Chapter 66: One Punch Surpasses Another

Zhang Juzheng ordered the Censor of Military Affairs, Zhang Chucheng, to use an imperial golden edict to accuse Wang Chonggu and Yang Jun, son of Yang Bo, of overstepping their bounds—his aim was to distance Yang Bo from the scandal; Zhang Juzheng still did not wish to move against Yang Bo, for though Yang Bo spoke for the Jin Party, his actions had not been excessively egregious.

But Wang Chonggu and Zhang Siwei had become far too insolent.

They insisted on provoking Zhang Juzheng.

Ge Shouli, the censor who should have been charging forward for the Jin Party, now saw that this matter had nothing to do with Yang Bo and chose to remain silent.

Lin Shaohuai, Director of the Armory Bureau, and Wu Zhe, Assistant Military Advisor, had embezzled over seventy thousand taels of silver—how much silver had the Jin Party siphoned from Xuan and Da? How many more hidden schemes remained unknown? Who knew if Zhang Juzheng had further moves lined up?

To rush forward now would be to invite Zhang Juzheng to swat you dead with a casual flick of his hand.

Zhang Juzheng asked Wang Chonggu, former Viceroy of Xuanfu and Datong, whether he knew of anyone evading border inspections and construction oversight by bribing officials in the capital.

All twenty-seven court ministers clearly knew these were Jin Party members; Wang Chonggu could not possibly be unaware—this was Zhang Juzheng giving him a chance to extricate himself.

“I truly did not know,” Wang Chonggu said without hesitation, choosing to save himself.

Zhu Yijun, on the moon terrace, paused his pencil, a faint smile curling at his lips: Wang Chonggu claimed ignorance merely to evade blame, but everyone inside and outside the Wenhua Hall knew Wang Chonggu knew—yet he could still say he did not.

“If the Junior Protector does not know, then what does he suggest should be done about this matter?” Zhang Juzheng turned the question back to Wang Chonggu—this was clearly intended to force Wang Chonggu to clean house, but in truth, it was to incite infighting within his own faction, eroding his influence in the Jin Party and further dismantling its cohesion.

Factions prized cohesion above all; once the ship began leaking from the top, the crew’s hearts scattered—and then it was truly lost.

Zhang Juzheng ordered the presentation of Ma Fang’s bribe to the inspection officer to evade border oversight, demanding Wang Chonggu’s stance—this was another blow to the Jin Party’s cohesion, ensuring they could not again stand united against imperial inspections and construction reviews, and that surveillance authority could truly extend to Xuanfu and Datong.

This was the true purpose of Zhang Juzheng’s second offensive.

Wang Chonggu knew the pit lay ahead, yet he had no choice but to jump in; Zhang Juzheng’s moves were chained together, leaving him no alternative—he sighed helplessly: “It is only fitting to dismiss him and investigate.”

Yang Bo sat slumped in his chair, hollow-eyed and defeated—how many more secrets had the Jin Party hidden from him? Had Zhang Juzheng not first used the golden edict case to distance him, Yang Bo would have been forced to exit court prematurely under this assault.

Zhang Juzheng acted to ensure the smooth implementation of the Kaocheng Law, yet Yang Bo still thanked him for sparing his life—at least in these final years, Zhang Juzheng had preserved Yang Bo’s reputation.

Minister of War Tan Lun suddenly spoke: “General Ma Fang of Datong has fought over a hundred battles, sustained dozens of wounds, defeated larger forces with fewer men, and never failed to win decisively. He captured dozens of tribal leaders and slew countless enemies; his fame shook the borders. Having served long on the frontier, his merits are well established. Now in his twilight years, he deserves leniency, lest the empire’s soldiers lose heart.”

Ma Fang was Han Chinese, captured and taken north, where he became a horse-herder for Altan Khan. In the sixteenth year of Jiajing, he finally escaped the enemy camp and began as a common soldier, climbing step by step through military merit until he reached the rank of Left Commander of Datong.

During the prolonged standoff from Jiajing twenty-nine to Jiajing forty-five, the Jiajing Emperor, upon reviewing Ma Fang’s achievements, could only say: “No one is braver than Ma Fang!”

One sings the red face, the other the white—this ploy to win hearts was not merely the young emperor’s talent; Tan Lun mastered it too.

Tan Lun performed this act in coordination with Zhang Juzheng—they had already prearranged it.

Zhang Juzheng wrote his opinion on the memorial accusing Ma Fang, said nothing, and handed the memorial to Zhang Hong.

With no Jin Party member in the Grand Secretariat, no one had authority to attach a floating note to the memorial; unless the emperor had a better idea, the Grand Secretariat’s opinion stood as the default—this was the indirect decision-making power the Ming Grand Secretariat had formed during the Wanli era.

Of course, the emperor could ignore it.

Zhu Yijun studied the memorial for a long time, then stamped it and said: “Order General Ma Fang of Datong to return to his hometown and live in retirement.”

“Thank Your Majesty’s great grace,” Wang Chonggu said, relieved that the emperor intended to limit the punishment and not expand the purge; he bowed in gratitude.

Zhang Juzheng did not press further on this matter, seemingly granting the Jin Party a breathing space—but then he produced a third memorial, his expression grim: “According to inspection records, Deputy Commanders Ma Gui and Ma Jin, Assistant Commanders Jia Guozhong, Li Rujia, Li Guozhen, Yang Ergan, Wang Guoxun, Xue Bangqi, Zhao Chongbi, and Ge Chen—ten officers total—are to be stripped of their ranks. Xu Xing is to be interrogated, and new Assistant Commanders and Mobile Corps Commanders—Xi Yuan, Zhang Yuanbao, Pu Dongyang, Wu Kun, Ren Binggong, et al.—are to be appointed.”

“On what grounds!” Wang Chonggu leapt to his feet, aghast: “Grand Secretary, this is the Wenhua Hall—you yourself said every matter must be debated in court! How can you act so autocratically? His Majesty is watching you from the moon terrace!”

Zhang Juzheng slammed a list onto the table and roared: “According to the inspection records of Li Le, Censor of Border Oversight! You took the court’s silver—where are the fortresses? Where is the Great Wall? Where are the soldiers? Wang Chonggu, answer me—where are they?!”

“Where is the breached pass at Huyukou? There was no pass at all!”

“Yang Taizai, were you aware of these matters?”

Zhang Juzheng’s gaze held a flicker of hope—he did not wish Yang Bo to be complicit in these sordid deeds. Yang Bo was certainly a beneficiary, but he did not wish him to be the instigator.

“I knew last night,” Yang Bo replied with a bleak smile, looking helplessly left and right, seeing the horrified faces of the court ministers, and answered Zhang Juzheng with a voice heavy with pain.

Yang Bo realized he had been right again: Zhang Siwei should never have provoked Zhang Juzheng.

Corrupting Li Le had only enraged Zhang Juzheng; based on Yang Bo’s understanding of him, had they left Li Le alone, Zhang Juzheng would never have launched such a relentless, crushing assault—one punch after another, leaving the Jin Party utterly defenseless.

Hearing this, Zhang Juzheng finally exhaled—he was relieved that, after all these years of observing this paragon of virtue, the man had not, in his final years, become a complete parasite upon the state; at least, when speaking for the Jin Party, Yang Bo’s conscience had stirred.

It was not Zhang Juzheng who misjudged men—it was Lu Shusheng who had failed.

Zhang Juzheng turned again to Wang Chonggu, hands folded, his tone now calm: “Wang Chonggu, shall we, these twenty-seven court ministers, journey together to Xuanfu and Datong for an inspection?”

Zhu Yijun coughed lightly and said: “If you truly intend to go, I shall accompany you—and bring along the Marquis of Qian’an. Military affairs are better understood by General Qi.”

To summon Qi Jiguang meant summoning six thousand southern troops, which meant summoning a hundred thousand troops from the three garrisons—it was no inspection, it was a suppression campaign.

The Jin Party dared not overturn the table because they knew they could not win.

What was Zhu Yijun doing? Pouring oil on the fire, stoking the flames.

What good is shouting? Act!

Fight!

Let blood flow!

Zhu Yijun was standing by Zhang Juzheng’s side; with the emperor young and the realm uncertain, the imperial authority was vacant, and Zhang Juzheng lacked moral legitimacy for any action. Zhu Yijun could do little—but he would not let Zhang Juzheng fight alone.

Hearing the young emperor speak, Yang Bo instantly understood: the palace had long known of Li Le’s case; it was deeply, deeply displeased with Zhang Siwei’s corruption of Li Le. Yang Bo glanced at Wang Chonggu and whispered: “Son-in-law, watch your words.”

By mentioning his kinship with Wang Chonggu in the Wenhua Hall, Yang Bo did not seek to intimidate Zhang Juzheng—he sought to jolt the volatile Wang Chonggu back to reason, to prevent him from being provoked into reckless speech that would only lead to greater disgrace.

Zhang Juzheng had dared to strike because he had long prepared.

Feng Bao picked up the list and marveled: “Remarkable, remarkable! Look at this list: seventeen hundred and seventy-three beacon towers along the Xuanfu frontier—over seven hundred are long-neglected! The passes at Changgoukou, Sihaiye, Changshengkou, Guanbeikou, Duhukou, Shagoukou, and Sanchakou—still built in the eighteenth year of Jiajing!”

“For years, these passes have annually requested imperial funds for repairs. In March of Longqing five, Guanbeikou alone demanded seventy thousand taels for repairs—where are the passes? Wang Shaobao, you are nurturing bandits, weakening defenses, and indulging the enemy!”

“So, does Wang Shaobao mean these ten officers—Deputy Commanders Ma Gui, Ma Jin, et al.—should not be touched?” Zhang Juzheng closed the memorial, cut straight to the point, refusing to let Wang Chonggu evade or divert the issue.

Either you, Wang Chonggu, bear the cost of the Great Wall’s neglect.

Or let the two Deputy Commanders of Xuanfu and Datong and the dozen Assistant Commanders bear it.

Someone must shoulder responsibility when things go wrong.

After long deliberation, Wang Chonggu said firmly: “Under heaven, all land belongs to the Son of Heaven; along all shores, all subjects are his. Rewards and punishments must follow this principle.”

They had been caught this time; without shedding blood, Zhang Juzheng would never let the Jin Party off. They dared not turn hostile—so they could only surrender.

Zhu Yijun looked at Wang Chonggu, then at Yang Bo: Yang Bo’s face was filled with sorrow—this was a tragedy for the Ming; Wang Chonggu’s expression, however, was resentful—as if blaming the Grand Secretary for fixating on them.

Zhu Yijun found this strange: if you commit a wrong, punishment is only right—isn’t it?

When he, the emperor, erred, Empress Dowager Li made Zhang Juzheng write a self-censure memo and forced Zhu Yijun to recite it before the ancestral temple until he memorized it—so why should Wang Chonggu resent being caught?

Zhang Juzheng brushed his sleeve and pulled out a fourth memorial.

This was not the end.