Chapter 572: Since Ancient Times, All Men Must Die; Let Loyalty Shine in the Annals

"Lin Lin Dashi, don't you usually ignore things you're not interested in?" Zhu Zhu Yijun frowned at Lin Lin Fucheng.

Others find it hard to think clearly in chaos, but Lin Lin Fucheng, upon learning that the Yellow Prince had assigned two hundred Embroidered Uniform Guards, didn't first count the number—he worried the silver wouldn't cover the security expenses!

Indeed, Zhu Zhu Yijun hadn't wasted the Five Classics Doctor title on Lin Lin Fucheng—this man's thinking was unlike anyone else's.

Lin Lin Fucheng said, bewildered: "Whether I care or not, with these two hundred men added, the silver still won't be enough."

The current discussion was about the expenses of this journey; the Guangde Bookshop had no funds. Lin Lin Fucheng even doubted whether protecting fifty students traveling to the steppe truly required two hundred Embroidered Uniform Guards.

From Songjiang Prefecture to the capital, then from the capital to Baoding Prefecture, Lin Lin Fucheng had never encountered a lawless world—even the weizhai merely oppressed their own people; when outsiders like Lin Lin Fucheng arrived, local weizhai leaders either killed them outright or escorted them out—no other options existed.

When a Embroidered Uniform Guard stood beside Lin Lin Fucheng, no weizhai leader, no matter how depraved, dared ignore the consequences of killing one.

Thus, Lin Lin Fucheng had stretched his imagination to its limit to envision the dangers of the steppe—but still underestimated them. Bandits and wild beasts aside, those lamaseries, without strong troops to protect them, could easily devour Lin Lin Fucheng's fifty men alive.

Zhu Zhu Yijun assigned two hundred Embroidered Uniform Guards based on the complex environment beyond the frontier.

Li Zhi longed to tell Lin Lin Fucheng right then: this man before him was the Emperor! The deployment of Embroidered Uniform Guards was never about silver—it was about the guards themselves.

In the Great Ming's capital garrisons, any movement of a hundred men required reporting to the Ministry of War and receiving the Emperor's vermilion approval!

Don't try to cut corners by splitting it into two fifty-man operations—that'll only become ammunition for civil officials to attack. The Emperor must consider whether his own head might be kicked around like a ball.

And Lin Lin Fucheng is haggling over funding?

"Don't worry about grain or silver," Zhu Zhu Yijun remarked, sighing. "Sometimes you understand clearly, but when it comes to things you don't care about, you miss the point. Lin Lin Fucheng, you're just like the Five Classics Doctors at the Academy of Investigation—when focused on one subject, you ignore everything else."

The expenses for deploying Embroidered Uniform Guards naturally come from the Inner Treasury—would you have them eat outside food? Could Emperor Zhu Zhu Yijun trust that?

"That's excellent, truly excellent!" Lin Lin Fucheng beamed, relieved to have saved a fortune.

Li Zhi said solemnly: "To abolish the people's pursuit of illusory blessings, you must give them real blessings—something to find peace in. To ask them to abandon illusions, you must first free them from the conditions that demand illusions."

"Only when reality brings peace will they cease seeking illusory peace. Only when reality is fulfilling and material wealth abundant can illusions be utterly discarded."

"To eradicate religion, to eradicate ignorance, you must first eradicate poverty—the root of all evil is poverty, the lack of material abundance."

Once one begins discussing how power, money, and religion alienate humanity, the court, standing above all forces and tasked with mediating contradictions, must find ways to reduce this alienation—and the solution lies within the question itself: if you don't want people chasing illusory afterlives, then guide them toward concrete, earthly happiness.

This is the fundamental purpose of discussing human alienation: to make the world a little better. Only when this purpose is clear does the discussion hold meaning.

It's exhausting—and profoundly romantic.

"Here is your Five Classics Doctor's official credential tablet," Zhu Zhu Yijun said, gesturing Feng Bao to bring it forward. "Last time, I said if you clarified the issue of human alienation, this title would be yours. Do well—even if you're old, offering useful advice is still excellent."

A fifth-rank official position ensures Li Zhi won't starve while attacking the base Confucians.

Li Zhi had already lost two daughters and three daughters to hunger; regardless of anything else, his integrity as an official deserves recognition.

Lin Lin Fucheng wore an expression of utter normalcy, but Li Zhi's eyes filled with tears. Since his retirement in the ninth year of Emperor Wanli, too much had happened—this official credential tablet was his future security.

He wanted to thank the Emperor for his grace, but doing so would shatter the Emperor's playful detachment. After a moment's deliberation, he said solemnly: "Thank you, Yellow Prince, for your great kindness. I shall never betray your trust."

"Just do your work well," Zhu Zhu Yijun said with a wave of his hand, smiling.

Li Zhi and Lin Lin Fucheng had different roles: Lin Lin Fucheng conducted social science research and field investigations; Li Zhi's role was to become the nightmare of the base Confucians—just hearing his name would make them lose sleep and appetite.

Historically, Li Zhi was the madman denounced by the base Confucians; now, with the Emperor's backing, he was like a tiger with wings.

This assault on religious alienation targeted the very essence of Confucianism becoming Confucian religion—it was the clarion call to attack the base Confucian rites.

In the short term, little may seem apparent, but over ten or twenty years, the seeds will take root, sprout, and bear fruit.

Zhu Zhu Yijun sat upright, his expression grave: "Li Zhi, you said the stronger one's faith, the more severe one's self-alienation becomes."

"Look at this man—his name is Chen Mo. He served as a distant watchtower commander on the steppe for five full years. Look at his hands—all scarred by frostbite. He endured exposure, hunger, and faced brutal northern barbarians. What did he gain?"

Few distant watchtower commanders last more than three years—some die, some flee, some simply collapse. Yet he endured five years, through heat and cold.

Chen Mo had already escorted confiscated assets back to the capital—these were funds for the Tianjin to Mizhou expressway—and now he served directly before the Emperor.

"Chen Mo," Zhu Zhu Yijun asked, "tell me—why do you do this? What do you believe in?"

Distant watchtower commanders and coastal inspectors also have beliefs—have they, too, become alienated through faith?

This question must be clarified—cannot be left vague.

"Yellow Prince," Chen Mo thought for a moment, then smiled, "I must do this. If I don't, these northern barbarians will break through the passes and burn, kill, and plunder my family." He paused. "Looking back, I can't say exactly why—it's hard to explain."

"Someone has to do it. Why not me?"

Chen Mo didn't speak of loyalty to the monarch—distant watchtower commanders never saw the Emperor; they didn't even know what he looked like. To speak of loyalty now would be hypocritical. The Emperor favored honesty, not flattery.

"Someone has to do it. Why not someone else?" Zhu Zhu Yijun immediately countered.

"Because I'm better than others!" Chen Mo said firmly. "Since childhood, I've always been better than others!"

"You're good! Distant watchtower commanders and coastal inspectors are all good!" Zhu Zhu Yijun nodded approvingly, smiling brightly—no pretense, utterly sincere.

Zhu Zhu Yijun turned to Lin Lin Fucheng and Li Zhi: "So, Li Zhi—do you think he's self-deceiving, self-alienated?"

"Yellow Prince, this isn't self-alienation—it's righteousness, it's benevolence. Confucius said: 'To die for benevolence.' One must sacrifice one's life to uphold virtue. Benevolence means defending justice, defending noble interests—the common interests of the Great Ming. Mencius said: 'Life is what I desire; righteousness is also what I desire. If both cannot be had, I choose righteousness over life.' This is the same principle." Li Zhi answered thoroughly.

No need for Emperor Wanli-era grand debates—two thousand years ago, the ancients had already deeply pondered this: What is benevolence? What is righteousness? Protecting the collective interests of the state is great virtue, lofty righteousness.

"Since ancient times, all men must die; let loyalty shine in the annals," Lin Lin Fucheng said immediately. "Yellow Prince, this is moral integrity—not self-alienation, not self-deception chasing illusory afterlives. Without self-deception, there is no self-alienation."

"You're young, Yellow Prince. Don't learn the selfishness preached by base Confucians—if everyone were like them, the empire would have collapsed long ago."

"Since you used Chen Mo as an example, let's use Chen Mo as an example." Lin Lin Fucheng looked at Chen Mo and said thoughtfully: "Chen Battalion Commander, I have a few questions—answer as you truly think."

"When you served as a distant watchtower commander, was it hard?"

"Hard," Chen Mo said, extending his hands—covered in frostbite scars, palms deformed, fingers thick with calluses from drawing bows and years of horseback riding.

One glance at his hands told the whole story.

Lin Lin Fucheng said earnestly: "Yellow Prince, we previously said illusory afterlives are escapes from real suffering. But Chen Mo knew full well the hardship of his life. We can speak freely here only because of them—these soldiers, through tireless sacrifice, have given us the peace to debate."

"Chen Battalion Commander, was being a distant watchtower commander dangerous?"

Chen Mo thought, then said: "Dangerous."

Two simple words—he knew the danger intimately: infiltrating enemy camps to deliver intelligence, battling brutal weather, fighting deadly foes, wrestling wild beasts. Each year during the burning season, northern barbarians sent countless scouts to ambush them.

"When we traveled to Baoding, I saw Chen Mo washing in the courtyard—his body was covered in scars. The longest ran from his left shoulder blade to his lower back. I didn't know how he survived that wound," Lin Lin Fucheng said, frowning. "Avoiding harm is human instinct—but he overcame it. Only the weak could not do this."

"Since its founding in the second year of Emperor Jingtai, the distant watchtower commander corps has always remained fully manned."

"Religious alienation begins with self-deception. Clearly, Chen Mo knew exactly what he was doing, why he did it, and what he faced—but he did it anyway, to protect all of the Great Ming."

"Er…," Chen Mo looked left and right, helplessly: "I have nothing else to do. I used to farm, but I've forgotten how. No land left to farm. If I don't be a distant watchtower commander, what else can I do? And I'm afraid—I'm terrified—I want to run."

Chen Mo meant to say: he wasn't noble. When comrades left the watchtowers, they never returned. He'd found the torn clothes and iron name tags of comrades torn apart by wolves. He'd feared. He'd even considered defecting to the northern barbarians—but ultimately, he couldn't.

Surrendering to the barbarians was, for men like Chen Mo, worse than being killed outright.

"Then why go? Why not just desert? That's easy," Lin Lin Fucheng offered another option.

Chen Mo waved his hands frantically: "No, that's too shameful."

He wouldn't join the barbarians, wouldn't desert—he could only fight heaven, fight earth, fight men. Who is higher than heaven?

"See? Those who know shame are the bravest." Lin Lin Fucheng ended his questions. Chen Mo was ten thousand times better than the base Confucians—because for them, shame itself was a monumental challenge.

"You scholars really can talk," Chen Mo gave up. He couldn't argue with scholars. Back then, he thought simply: there was a job to do. If he didn't do it, people would die. Nothing complex—no alienation, no lofty virtue—he never thought about any of that.

Li Zhi concluded: "Indeed, choosing to live miserably or to die for lofty virtue are different paths. Living miserably—crawling through life, mean, shameful, timid, sneaking, stained with vice, despised by all—is one path. Choosing to die for lofty virtue—your heart is bright, radiant, upright, glorious through the ages."

"Looking at the base Confucians' words and deeds, our Great Ming's history would be too pale."

"Excellent," Zhu Zhu Yijun said, smiling warmly at Chen Mo.

Zhu Zhu Yijun thought of Hong Hong Chengchou—who gave everything for the Qing dynasty, only to be branded a traitor in the Qing's "Biographies of the Double-Hearted."

Even the Qing barbarians knew traitors were to be despised.

"Your writing on religious alienation is excellent, your understanding precise. Go to the steppe," Zhu Zhu Yijun waved them off.

Moral integrity is moral integrity—completely opposite to religion's escape from suffering.

After Lin Lin Fucheng and Li Zhi left, Zhu Zhu Yijun held the "Xiaoyao Yiwén" and said: "It's time for the Great Ming to separate scholar from official."

Zhu Zhu Yijun was encouraging public opinion, permitting controversial publications—effectively encouraging resistance to oppression, including the tyranny of the Imperial Academy and Hanlin Academy.

In the Great Ming's bureaucracy, scholar and official identities were fused. This ambiguity led Confucianism to become Confucian religion—a religious form of oppression.

Zhu Zhu Yijun had been steadily desanctifying Confucian religion: toppling the Kong family of Yanzhou, liberating Confucius, was the first step; the theories of contradiction, public-private distinction, production diagrams, and class struggle were the second; distinguishing identities is the third.

Return scholars to their true identity—strip them from the official class. The fusion of scholar and official ensured power would always alienate humanity, for officials held both real authority and the power to interpret the illusory afterlife.

This step was difficult—since ancient times, it had always been so—but Zhu Zhu Yijun had already quietly taken it.

"The Five Classics Doctors of the Academy of Investigation?" Wang Qian was an official, his father a vice-premier—he understood this well. At the Emperor's mention, Wang Qian immediately realized the Emperor had already begun long before Lin Lin Fucheng and Li Zhi started pointing fingers.

Zhu Zhu Yijun looked at Wang Qian with a complex expression, sighing: "Wang Qian, you're clever, quick-witted—but use your wit wisely. Don't follow Yan Yan Shifan's path. Your father's rise to this position was no easy feat."

"Only now, with Altan Khan's execution, have we finally shed the historical burden of our peace accord with him—and begun anew."

"Don't ruin your father's reputation."

"Isn't my father's greatest burden his crime of usurpation?" Wang Qian asked blankly.

Zhu Zhu Yijun laughed bitterly: "You're a filial son indeed!" The Emperor hadn't mentioned usurpation because Wang Wang Chonggu's reforms were beneficial to the state and people. He didn't bring it up—but Wang Qian brought it up himself.

Wang Qian shrugged: "My father says the same to me."

Wang Qian believed himself filial. In families like his, who wasn't a wastrel? He wasn't just not a wastrel—he passed the imperial examination, devoted himself daily to serving the state and easing the Emperor's burdens, acted with clear boundaries. In eleven years of Emperor Wanli's reign, had Wang Qian ever done one truly ruinous, family-destroying act?

Even if you step back a thousand paces—he was better than Yan Yan Shifan, who never even passed the imperial exam!

After a brief rest, Zhu Zhu Yijun went directly from the Taibai Pavilion to the Northern Garrison to inspect the troops.

"General Qi, why come out to greet me?" As Zhu Zhu Yijun's carriage arrived at the Northern Garrison, he saw Qi Qi Jiguang. Since returning to the interior, Qi had grown refined and gentle—without armor, he looked more like a scholar, steeped in literary grace.

When Zhu Zhu Yijun first met Qi Qi Jiguang, he'd been puzzled: could this gentle scholar really be a general who won every battle?

General Qi, like when he first met the Emperor ten years ago, now had streaks of white in his temples, his bearing unchanged, yet his gaze—kind yet calm, steady as a mountain, commanding as ever.

Behind Qi Qi Jiguang stood the young officers, mostly common soldiers from the Military Academy who, after studying tactics there, became common officers. These common officers had no conflict with hereditary military nobles—those who couldn't endure the capital garrison's hardships had all moved to the old camp in Nanhaizi as noble troops.

The young officers stood as straight as pine trees, radiating strength and ferocity—they were the backbone of the Great Ming.

Zhu Zhu Yijun didn't face Zhu Di's dilemma; the Military Academy systematically trained common officers, many of whom would become the army's pillars through constant warfare.

"Your Majesty, I am guilty," Qi Qi Jiguang said, expression complex. "Li Li Rusong has caused trouble. I failed to teach him well."

"What trouble did Li Li Rusong cause?" Zhu Zhu Yijun said gravely. "Come inside and tell me."

Zhu Zhu Yijun was also a member of the young reformist faction; beneath his loose everyday robes lay a body of hardened muscle. He indeed lacked military talent, but through diligence he had become a qualified Great Ming elite soldier—a promise he made to all troops under heaven, and one he kept by relentlessly drilling, even if only once every other day, for he always appeared at the North Camp on his days off.

"What's wrong with Li Li Rusong?" Zhu Zhu Yijun asked, having changed into his military uniform, his gaze fixed on Qi Qi Jiguang's furrowed brow.

"The urgent report is here," Qi Qi Jiguang handed the report to His Majesty.

Only Qi Qi Jiguang and Zhang Zhang Juzheng could submit memorials directly to the throne without relying on Feng Bao to deliver them—these two were the only outer ministers granted such privilege.

"I thought something major had happened—just one dyke fortress destroyed? That's exactly what I sent him to do." After reading the report, Zhu Zhu Yijun exhaled in relief; he'd feared some crisis, but it was merely a rebellion suppressed.

Is suppressing a rebellion a crime?

Qi Qi Jiguang shook his head. "It need not have been so brutal. Negotiated surrender was still possible. He leveled the entire dyke fortress to the ground. Now the dyke lords of Baoding Prefecture are truly terrified and dare not resist."

"Ah."

"I want their lives, yet they refuse to let me take them—how can I persuade them to surrender?" Zhu Zhu Yijun said helplessly. "General Qi's blade never turns inward—that's why court ministers once dared to bully you."

Qi Qi Jiguang always refused to fight his own men, refused to waste strength on internal strife. But the question was: did others see him as one of them?

Not at all. They longed to eliminate him.

Qi Qi Jiguang was truly a gentle man. Even now, with tensions at their peak, he still clung to the belief that surrender could be negotiated. To defy the imperial command was treason; suppressing rebellion required only one thing: a position.

Qi Qi Jiguang insisted firmly: "Li Li Rusong went too far. He deployed thirty cannons weighing nine jin each and blasted the dyke fortress flat."

Literally leveled to the ground—the dyke walls, demolished by artillery. The dyke lords refused to tear them down; Li Li Rusong generously helped them do it.

"What else could he do? If he didn't fire those gunpowder charges, they'd get damp and become useless," Zhu Zhu Yijun still saw nothing wrong with Li Li Rusong's actions.

"Your Majesty, violence must never spiral out of control—that is the path to the collapse of the realm," General Qi Qi Jiguang held fast to his position.

Of course, force must be used when necessary. But in the matter of dismantling dyke walls in Baoding Prefecture, the Great Ming court already held absolute superiority—there was no need for such extreme measures.

Those who rely on force perish; those who rely on civil means perish.

Solely depending on warriors leads to the Five Dynasties and Ten Kingdoms, where black-market politics bring suffering to all living things. Solely relying on scholars leads to the Northern and Southern Song dynasties, where the mighty emperor of the Central Plains bowed before foreign barbarians—and yet they claim literature reached its zenith in the Song era? If bowing to barbarian chieftains, losing territory, and destroying the state is the pinnacle of culture, then let that pinnacle be cast aside.

Li Li Rusong's brutal suppression of rebellion easily paints the emperor as a tyrant and enemy of the people.

"General Qi speaks wisely. Li Li Rusong acted improperly—but not wrongly," Zhu Zhu Yijun pondered, then partially affirmed Qi Qi Jiguang's view. "He should have moved faster. A single dyke fortress took him thirteen days—too slow."

Li Li Rusong's suppression of the rebellion was correct, but the method could have been swifter. After blowing up the dyke wall on the first day, he merely surrounded it without attacking. Once he cut off the water supply, he sent men inside to set fire to the grain stores, then withdrew—and waited until the thirteenth day, when the people inside finally surrendered.

This was pure cat-and-mouse torment. Li Li Rusong did this to show the dyke lords of Baoding Prefecture: against the elite troops of the capital, any resistance is futile.

Zhu Zhu Yijun declared firmly: "Are they Great Ming subjects? Merely bandits seated on their lands. General Qi, with your benevolent heart, still see them as part of the realm. But when these dyke lords piled the poor laborers into fertilizer, traded five catties of grain for a daughter, seized property through pawnshops and gambling dens—did they ever think themselves Great Ming citizens? Were they ever the virtuous gentry? The court granted them tax and legal privileges so they might pacify the land and care for the people."

"I suppose I've grown old," Qi Qi Jiguang sighed helplessly. "Li Li Rusong's actions will surely provoke a storm of court criticism. A lax teacher bears blame for a wayward student."

"Wait—that's your real concern, isn't it?" Zhu Zhu Yijun paused, then understood Qi Qi Jiguang's true intent. "Say first what the court ministers will say—so they'll have nothing left to say." The broad-featured, stern-faced Qi Qi Jiguang had learned to play politics.

The court ministers won't care about Li Li Rusong's difficulties—they'll only slap labels like "butcher" and "executioner" on him, making the emperor wary of military men. This wave of attacks is hard to face. In the past, even when Qi Qi Jiguang and Yu Yu Dayou won battles, they were lucky not to be punished, let alone rewarded.

Clearly, Qi Qi Jiguang's true fear was not uncontrolled violence, but the court ministers' attacks on Li Li Rusong.

Moreover, Qi Qi Jiguang was unsure of the emperor's intentions. After the campaigns against the steppe, the capital troops had no immediate plans for further expeditions. Yet the capital troops consumed two million taels of silver annually—twice the amount of the Golden Flower Silver—and their yearly expenditure was double what the court allocated to the imperial household.

Qi Qi Jiguang had to wonder: was it time to let horses graze on the southern hills?

This was no test. Whether His Majesty intended to let horses graze or not, Qi Qi Jiguang would support it. He risked his own reputation to shield and protect young reformists like Li Li Rusong—so that when His Majesty needed capable men, none would be lacking.

"Your Majesty is wise," Qi Qi Jiguang admitted outright, realizing his motives had been so easily seen.

"Don't worry. Li Li Rusong didn't massacre or loot the dyke fortress—he merely leveled it. He didn't raise his blade, didn't let heads roll or rivers run red." Zhu Zhu Yijun smiled. "If the court ministers truly can't tell right from wrong, I'll send them to Baoding Prefecture—to face those lawless dyke lords themselves."

"Li Li Rusong's temper has improved greatly. In the past, he would have slaughtered them all."

Zhu Zhu Yijun wasn't exaggerating. When Li Li Rusong first joined the capital troops, his temper was ferocious. Now, that rage had become fearless courage, unwavering advance—once mere brute fury, now the bearing of a true commander.

Such Li Li Rusong could not have been shaped by Li Li Chengliang. Only under the command of the Empire's Grand General could such growth occur.

This small dyke fortress in Baoding Prefecture took Li Li Rusong thirteen days—not because he couldn't crush it quickly, but to intimidate and demonstrate power.

Qi Qi Jiguang, Yu Yu Dayou, Chen Lin, Ma Fang, Li Li Chengliang, Li Li Rusong, Liu Zhang Xian, Liu Ding, Yin Yin Zhengmao, Zhang Zhang Yuanxun, Deng Deng Zilong—all were among the fiercest of generals. Zhu Zhu Yijun had no shortage of capable men.

And there was the fierce little bear, Xiong Xiong Tingbi—fourteen years old, already roaring to head to Suiyuan, and throwing tantrums with Zhang Zhang Juzheng when denied.

Compared to the abundance of military talent, the pool of civil officials appeared strikingly thin.