Chapter 813

Will Li Li Chengliang become the An Lushan of the Great Ming dynasty?

This question filled every soul in the Great Ming with doubt, including the court's senior ministers; even when Hou Hou Yuzhao served as Provincial Governor of Zhejiang, he avoided mentioning Li Li Chengliang outright, instead tossing the question back to Li Li Chengliang himself.

Whatever choice Li Li Chengliang makes, he must bear responsibility for it—and for his legacy.

Even the Emperor himself had once pondered this question with no answer.

In the end, the Emperor abandoned his contemplation, for every man's choice shifts with the tide of circumstance; until the day arrives, not even the Emperor or Li Li Chengliang himself knows how he will decide.

In the thirteenth year of Emperor Wanli, he voluntarily returned to the interior, accompanying the Emperor southward—his first departure from Liaodong—when the Seven Tribes of Outer Khorchin, Haixi Jurchens, Wild Jurchens, and even Jianzhou Jurchens were still far from stable.

He had laid a fishing trap as a backup, achieving partial success: uniting these barbarians around King Li Yen of Korea, yet no one dared strike first to test the Great Ming's strength, and so the plot fizzled out.

At that time, Japan was pressuring the Korean king to travel to Kyoto, and Korea's situation hung heavy with stormclouds, the rain about to break.

Everyone knew clearly: Li Li Chengliang must return to Liaodong, whether as Regional Commander of the Expeditionary Force leading Liaodong troops into Korea, or as a strategic backstop supporting Korea's war effort—he would return.

But now, everything had changed: the former leader of the anti-Ming alliance, Korea, had been overrun by Japanese pirates in a single month, reaching Pyongyang, while the Great Ming army crushed the pirates like dry grass before a wildfire; the rebels beyond Liaodong's passes now lacked the courage to entertain any ambition, daring not to provoke the Great Ming lightly.

Fighting the Japanese in Korea strengthened Liaodong's unity and bound its people together.

The logic seemed odd, yet it was undeniably true.

This time, Li Li Chengliang's departure was final—he relinquished command of Liaodong's elite troops, resolved to emulate Wei Qing's later years, shutting his gates and refusing visitors, cultivating righteous qi, and retiring to the gentle south to spend his final days.

The true motive behind Li Li Chengliang's decision was his son's steady rise to power—he no longer feared being discarded after the millstone had turned; even if the Emperor proved cold and ungrateful, he would still hesitate to retaliate against Li Li Chengliang, given Li Li Rusong's unmatched martial prowess.

The Emperor was so young; merely waiting would outlive all these aging, high-ranking elders.

On the twenty-third day of the twelfth lunar month, afternoon, the north wind howled, sweeping cold air across the capital, scouring the gilded rooftops of Tonghemen Palace, frosting the golden glazed tiles, and making the bronze bells along the eaves chime in the wind.

A palace attendant stretched out a hand, felt the chill, saw the moisture on her palm, and exclaimed in delight—the snow had begun.

Soon, the entire palace grounds swirled with silver dust, the snow fine as salt grains, coating the frozen surface of the Dragon Pond with a translucent gauze.

At dusk, the fine snowflakes thickened into goose feathers, fluttering down with the north wind, tapping against the blue-brick floors of the imperial halls; the old man selling malt sugar packed up his bamboo clapper, wrapped in snow, headed home; the night watchman, bundled in sheepskin, clanged his gong to warn households to guard their lanterns, leaving trails of footprints swiftly buried beneath fresh snow.

This was the first snow of Emperor Wanli fifteenth year; palace attendants rushed to spread the news, offering congratulations to His Majesty—the snow again, a sign of bountiful harvest.

According to the astronomers' studies, because the Taihang and Yanshan mountains blocked the cold front, whenever snow fell in the capital, it meant heavy snow had also fallen across Shanxi, Gansu, Ningxia, Suiyuan, Henan, and beyond.

Next year might not guarantee a bumper harvest, but it would certainly not be a year of disaster.

These past few years, Heaven had been kind to His Majesty, sparing him the need to pray at the Hall of Prayer for Good Harvests.

The next morning, snow still fell; the entire capital lay blanketed in white. Li Li Chengliang and Hou Hou Yuzhao rode in their carriage, crunching through the snow, arriving at Tonghemen's gates to request an audience with His Majesty. Soon, a palace attendant led them into the imperial study.

"Your servants bow before Your Majesty. May Your Majesty live ten thousand years, ten thousand years, ten thousand times ten thousand years." Li Li Chengliang and Hou Hou Yuzhao performed the full five prostrations and three kowtows.

Zhu Zhu Yijun smiled broadly. "Rise, rise. Sit, sit."

"I've tasted the fat-headed fish sent by the Marquis of Marquis Ningyuan—it was exquisitely delicious. But the journey is too long. Next time, send frozen fish instead; no need to burden the people. Winter keeps it fresh."

"If Your Majesty approves, the people of Chakan Lake will be eternally grateful. Your servant obeys." Li Li Chengliang grinned openly—he had sent the New Year gift precisely to get the Emperor to endorse it.

"If His Majesty enjoys it, then with those words, the flavor is extraordinarily delicious—the people of Chagan Lake are deeply grateful. Your servant obeys the imperial decree." Li Li Chengliang smiled broadly, not concealing his intent—he had sent the New Year gift precisely to get His Majesty to endorse it.

"I hear the Marquis of Marquis Ningyuan declined the post of Rector of the Military Academy. Why?" Zhu Zhu Yijun's tone turned serious—previous pleasantries were over.

Even if the Emperor was courteous, Chakan Lake would still send live fish to court; if not live, it would be seen as disrespectful—how could the Emperor eat dead fish?

Pleasantries concluded, the matter turned serious.

Zhu Zhu Yijun had appointed him Rector of the Military Academy, but Li Li Chengliang had firmly refused.

"Your Majesty, I am past sixty, and after the New Year I shall be sixty-two. Age has come. I plan to depart southward for recuperation when the Pole Star shifts and the Purple Microcosm glows—around the Spring Equinox." Li Li Chengliang answered, sparing the Emperor worry that he might emulate Tan Sima Yi.

Li Li Chengliang felt he had few years left; a lifetime of warfare had left him aching, wounded. In youth, he ignored it, but now, in old age, every winter felt like ants crawling over his entire body—numb, itchy, painful.

He went south to reassure the Emperor, to encourage greater trust in Li Li Rusong, to eliminate any fear that this old man might harbor ambitions to usurp the throne.

Tan Sima Yi cast a thousand-year shadow over all military commanders—his ghost brushed Zhuge Liang's brow, pierced Li Shanzhang's brow, and now approached Li Li Chengliang.

Li Li Chengliang believed: the farther south he went, the more secure the Emperor would feel—far from his power base, no longer fearing he might raise elite tiger guards and overthrow the throne during an imperial tour.

Zhu Zhu Yijun smiled. In the original timeline, Li Li Chengliang had simply lived too long. Had he died at sixty, like Qi Qi Jiguang, his unfulfilled ambitions would have drawn relentless attacks from censors, and he would have died in despair—far fewer controversies would have followed.

"Your Highness overthinks. The post of Rector of the Military Academy is yours." Zhu Zhu Yijun still offered the appointment.

Li Li Chengliang was an old fox; his eyes flickered—he instantly understood the Emperor wished him to remain in the capital for another purpose. After a moment's thought, he bowed low. "I understand. Your servant obeys."

Hou Hou Yuzhao watched the Emperor and Li Li Chengliang, puzzled—he could not fathom what game these two old foxes were playing, their words so veiled.

Zhu Zhu Yijun noticed Hou Hou Yuzhao's confusion and explained: "Hou, I keep Marshal Li in the capital to handle the dirty work—when I cannot directly punish censors or powerful elites, I must rely on Marshal Li to give them a beating."

"Not dirty at all! Your Majesty, I am eager to serve!" Li Li Chengliang readily agreed—beating down the base Confucians? Perfect!

"What?" Hou Hou Yuzhao stared at the Emperor, stunned—was this truly why the Emperor kept Li Li Chengliang?

How could one say it so bluntly!

Some censors spoke nonsense, but it didn't amount to slander—His Majesty could not punish them outright, for he must keep the flow of criticism open to hear the people's grievances. Yet these noisy censors were infuriating; without a beating, one's anger would never subside.

So when Li Li Chengliang encountered such offenders in the capital, he simply punched them—twice, hard—and they learned to repent.

The Emperor was pleased, Li Li Chengliang exercised his fists, and the capital's public opinion was subtly corrected—why not?

Moreover, the Military Academy trains officers—it's the Emperor's promise: as long as they cause no trouble, the Li family shall remain Marquis of Marquis Ningyuan, even rise to Duke.

"Old… Governor Hou, when I last returned to the capital, didn't I beat up a few foolish Censors?" Li Li Chengliang grinned. "Your Majesty, rest assured—I know how to beat people. Leave it to me!"

Beating censors was itself a severance from the civil official class—a self-defiling act. If he constantly beat civil officials, who would rally to him?

Thus, without even going south, he achieved the Emperor's goal of reassurance.

The court needed such a reckless man.

Qi Qi Jiguang was now Duke of Duke Fengguo and Grand General—he represented the will of the ten-thousand-strong Capital Garrison and two million troops; he simply could not do such a vulgar thing.

Li Li Chengliang didn't care. To the censors, his image was already fixed—he might as well live up to it, let them see.

"Ah, so it is." Hou Hou Yuzhao reluctantly accepted this outcome. Li Li Chengliang and Li Li Rusong deeply resented civil officials, rooted in the Ming's long-standing civil dominance over the military, its promotion of literature and suppression of martial affairs.

Li Li Rusong had openly defied Tan Lun when Tan commanded the Capital Garrison.

The term "civil official class" is imprecise; the accurate term is: the landlord-bureaucrat class.

This class had become a barrier to historical progress—a conservative wall blocking changes in production relations, a reactionary gatekeeping force in cultural consciousness, and an obstacle to social mobility and geographic circulation.

In production relations, it supported personal dependency and opposed free labor contracts; in political power, it upheld rigid hierarchy and opposed reform; in cultural consciousness, it endorsed distorted Confucianism and rejected new learning; in social mobility, it opposed education for the masses and restricted free movement.

This was not the opposition of Xu Xu Chengchu, whose resistance stemmed from concern for the Ming as a whole, the drastic effects of population suction, and a call for horizontal fiscal transfers to offset the immense investment in training talent inland, narrowing the gap between the prosperous coast and the underdeveloped interior.

The base Confucians opposed poor laborers achieving class mobility through education and rising to equality with them.

This is why the Emperor remained perpetually wary of the Ming's civil official class—or rather, the landlord-bureaucrat class.

"Hou, elaborate on your Liaodong Agricultural Reclamation Bureau plan." Zhu Zhu Yijun turned to Hou Hou Yuzhao's proposal.

Hou Hou Yuzhao immediately perked up—he understood nothing of social niceties, but he understood how to get things done. He pulled out a memorial and handed it to the Emperor: "The central Agricultural Reclamation Bureau must be in the capital, under the Ministry of War, jointly supervised by the Ministry of Revenue, with all personnel appointments under the Ministry of Personnel—it is directly subordinate to the court."

The memorial discussed six points: establishing regulations to clarify duties, opening fields to fill granaries, strengthening military readiness to deter barbarians, implementing new policies to settle displaced populations, enforcing performance reviews to eliminate corruption, and expanding tools to boost land productivity—hence the name "Six Strategies for Pacifying Liaodong."

(Detailed Memorial on the Six Strategies for Liaodong Agricultural Reclamation)

Four floating slips were attached: the Directorate of Palace Affairs had drafted one red-penciled comment; all Zhu Zhu Yijun needed to do was stamp it with the Emperor Wanli Imperial Seal, and it would proceed to court deliberation.

The Grand Secretariat's floating slip: 【Establish a dedicated Agricultural Reclamation Office to unify military and civilian colonization, deepen roots through new land systems, use sweet potatoes and iron plows to bolster frontier reserves, enforce strict performance reviews to eradicate entrenched abuses, and build a Han Chinese barrier beyond the frontier.】

The Directorate of Palace Affairs' red-penciled draft: 【This proposal is thorough and deeply resonates with My heart. Immediately implement as drafted. Allocate fifty thousand shi of grain annually from Shandong as support. The Minister of Agriculture shall promptly issue regulations, establish clear rewards and punishments, and the Eastern and Western Depots and Censorate shall rigorously investigate and severely punish any official who neglects duty.】

Being Emperor of the Ming was not truly difficult: understand the memorials, grasp each minister's stance, and even the reply was already drafted by the Directorate of Palace Affairs—your only task was to stamp and endorse.

The Ming's correction mechanism was powerful—though if an Emperor neglected affairs for thirty years, even the strongest mechanism could not function.

On this matter of the Liaodong Agricultural Reclamation Bureau, the Emperor did not even need Hou Hou Yuzhao to present it in person—the Grand Secretaries had already examined it in detail.

Zhu Zhu Yijun discussed the memorial's contents with Hou Hou Yuzhao in depth: some strategies had long been implemented, others were future plans, some had always existed but lacked formal codification—now they were written into law.

In sum, Hou Hou Yuzhao's memorial was hammering nails and shoeing horses for the Ming—ensuring it did not walk on one leg.

"Your proposal is excellent. I am deeply satisfied. Proceed as planned." Zhu Zhu Yijun ordered Feng Bao to bring the imperial seal and stamped the memorial, formally establishing the Great Ming Liaodong Agricultural Reclamation Bureau, operating alongside the Three Boards of Liaodong.

"Your Majesty, the Northeast is vast. I suggest dividing it into three: Liaoyang, Jilin, and Heilongjiang. Beyond Heilongjiang, across the Lesser Xianbei Mountains, lies the frozen north—desolate and uninhabited." Li Li Chengliang offered his view.

Liaodong was too large for one province; three was about right. The Northeast stretched vast: from the capital to Liaoyang was twelve hundred li; from Liaoyang to Heilongjiang was two thousand li—distances Li Li Chengliang had measured by horse hooves.

From the capital to Guangzhou was only four thousand li.

"The Marquis of Marquis Ningyuan speaks wisely, but this cannot be rushed. First, complete the Agricultural Reclamation Bureau's work." Zhu Zhu Yijun endorsed Li Li Chengliang's idea but deferred action—step by step, it would eventually be done.

"Will Li Li Yashi be the first to get beaten?" Li Li Chengliang was already itching to strike.

Zhu Zhu Yijun asked in surprise: "Even in Liaodong have you heard Li Li Yashi's jokes?"

"Your Majesty, Liaodong is not isolated. Official bulletins, unofficial reports, and even storybooks spread widely there." Hou Hou Yuzhao answered. Liaodong was no mountain village; since the imperial highway reached Jilin in Emperor Wanli ten, its distance to the capital was shorter than to Sichuan.

Wherever the highway reached, the Ming's civilizing frontier extended.

"Li Li Yashi need not be beaten. He consistently offers another perspective—a different form of remonstrance." Zhu Zhu Yijun considered, then decided against it.

The Ming's rapid development had masked many problems—when the court noticed them, it hoped development itself would erase them.

Rigid structures meant rules and constraints lagged behind progress.

The Ming had many talents, even more clever minds—they saw the problems and proposed good solutions, yet due to rigidity and other reasons, lacked the courage and momentum to implement them.

This "mediocrity-born, day-to-day" mindset was widespread.

At such times, "friendly foreign astonishment" could provide the necessary courage and momentum.

For example, the Ming's maritime opening: everyone knew the court was broke, and opening the seas would bring profit—but no one had the will to act. Then Western sailing ships arrived at Ming ports demanding trade, striking the most sensitive nerve of the Celestial Empire.

Western barbarian states had become empires where the sun never set, yet this Celestial Empire still rolled in the dirt. The court, inside and out, had to ask: Is this what a Celestial Empire should look like?

The Ming Emperor refused to pretend ignorance—he could not ignore the arrival of the Western ships. To lead was to lead; Zhu Zhu Yijun could not shut his eyes, cover his ears, and shake his head pretending the Ming was still the Celestial Empire.

For instance, Li Li Yashi constantly criticized the Ming's moral disadvantage in colonization: colonization cannot be morally lofty; treating barbarians as human beings is the Celestial Empire's arrogance. Yin Yin Zhengmao only changed after being struck by his own boomerang, crafting policies to protect core interests.

This is the positive significance of such "friendly foreign astonishment."

The petty foreign states of the West have become empires where the sun never sets, yet you, this Celestial Empire, still roll in the dirt—every official inside and outside the court must ask: Is this the proper sight for a Celestial Empire?

The Ming Emperor was unwilling to pretend ignorance; he did not turn a blind eye to the arrival of the great ships. Being ahead is being ahead—he could not shut his eyes, cover his ears, shake his body, and pretend Ming still ruled as the Celestial Empire.

For instance, Lí Yáshí constantly spoke of Ming's moral disadvantage in colonization—colonization cannot be morally lofty; treating barbarians as human beings is the arrogance of the Celestial Empire. Yin Yin Zhengmao, too, was struck by his own boomerang, and only then began to change, instituting policies to protect the interests of his core base.

These are the positive significance of Lí Yáshí's kind of "friendly state's astonishment."

A doctor cannot cure himself; one often fails to see one's own problems, and even when seen, laziness and stubbornness make one unwilling to fix them.

The shock of a foreign perspective allows one to precisely locate the illness; as long as the Great Ming does not change, the shock of a foreign perspective can strike again at the very point that infuriates the entire court.

With courage, drive, and determination, coupled with the efficient court Zhang Zhang Juzheng forged through his purge of official corruption, a decree can be executed with the resolve of a warrior severing his own arm, accelerating change.

The shock of a foreign perspective spurs reform—this is why Zhu Zhu Yijun permitted Li Yashih to repeatedly denounce the imperial carriage.

The shock of a foreign perspective can also propel the Emperor Wanli Reforms to change and preserve the Great Ming's status as the Celestial Kingdom, just as Philip preferred to grant concessions to the Western nations to uphold his empire's status as the one where the sun never sets.

The narrative of the Celestial Kingdom, this claim of global superiority, is the Great Ming's core interest; if this myth shatters, the fall of the Great Ming is not far off.

"Oh, then don't beat him," Li Li Chengliang said with slight disappointment. He didn't understand these grand matters of the Emperor Wanli Reforms; he only knew he must beat those glib, scheming scholar-rascals to earn himself a bit of infamy.

This is a severance: between soldiers and literati. When military meritocrats grow too close to civil officials, the Emperor should lie awake at night.

Zhu Zhu Yijun turned to Hou Hou Yuzhao, frowning. "Minister Hou, didn't I order you yesterday to select several foreign beauties? I heard from Feng Da that you refused."

Hou Hou Yuzhao took a deep breath and replied solemnly: "Your Majesty, perhaps you might grant me some silver instead? These foreign barbarians truly disgrace our civilization."

Li Li Chengliang immediately sneered: "Old Zhao, you're dishonest—a hypocrite in a scholar's robe."

The foreign beauties the Emperor offered had been carefully chosen: none were hairy, none stank. Hou Hou Yuzhao had glanced at them twice, but ultimately refused.

"Speak carefully before the Emperor," Hou Hou Yuzhao warned as Li Li Chengliang acted foolishly, then bowed his head. "Your Majesty, I am no longer young, and truly unworthy of such favor. I have a fierce wife at home—if I accepted, my household would be thrown into chaos."

"Hah! Afraid of your wife!" Li Li Chengliang now understood why Hou Hou Yuzhao had looked twice but declined—having a fierce wife indeed made it unwise.

Zhu Zhu Yijun laughed and said: "Very well. Feng Da, bring one hundred silver coins. Also, behind the Marquis Ningyuan Marquis's mansion, there's a three-court courtyard standing empty—I bestow it upon Minister Hou."

"Your servant kneels to thank Your Majesty's imperial grace," Hou Hou Yuzhao said, stunned. One hundred silver coins were already generous, but the courtyard behind the Marquis Ningyuan Marquis's mansion—such a location could not be bought even with gold.

The Marquis Ningyuan Marquis's mansion adjoined the Duke Fengguo Duke's residence, not far from Tonghemen Palace—this was the most valuable real estate in the capital.

"Your reward for your reclamation work in Liaodong is only just," Zhu Zhu Yijun said solemnly. "You are appointed Governor of Zhejiang and concurrently Minister of Revenue. Proceed with utmost caution. When your task is done, return to court."

Rewards as clear as sun and moon illuminate the loyal and virtuous; punishments like thunder and lightning strike the wicked and corrupt.

Faithful rewards and punishments cleanse the realm; every sage ruler of past dynasties first established justice in reward and punishment before he could achieve great order.

When an emperor loses balance in reward and punishment, chaos is born.

The Liaodong Agricultural Reclamation Bureau Hou Hou Yuzhao established in Liaodong has utterly resolved the Great Ming court's greatest threat. If Liaodong truly became a warlord domain, the Great Ming would have to expend its entire national strength to eliminate the danger—no courtyard or ministerial post could solve it.

Once the Zhejiang land reclamation is complete, Hou Hou Yuzhao will be promoted; henceforth, he shall be called Minister Hou.

"We take our leave," Li Li Chengliang and Hou Hou Yuzhao said together, departing Tonghemen Palace.

"Old Zhao, don't stubbornly hold out in Zhejiang. I still have a few good years left—if things become unbearable, write to the capital and I'll come at once—I'll storm Zhejiang and turn it upside down!" Li Li Chengliang's voice carried clearly enough for Zhang Hong, who had come to see them off, to hear.

Li Li Chengliang's severance from civil officials was not a severance from Hou

Hou Yuzhao—they had been comrades for fifteen years, bound by friendship forged in back-to-back combat; Li Li Chengliang could not, and would not, cut it.

The land reclamation task was no simple matter. Though it seemed merely farming, Zhejiang's situation was worse than Liaodong's. In Liaodong, the enemy was clear: the barbarians beyond the pass. One fought them with unified strength.

In Zhejiang, the enemy lurked beneath the surface; one could lose one's life without warning.

"Relax. If I can't outmaneuver them, can't I summon the clouds and ascend to Heaven's Gate like Sun Sun Wukong calling upon the Buddha? Don't worry—I can swallow my pride." Hou Hou Yuzhao was unfazed; in Liaodong, he had called for reinforcements often. As a member of the Emperor's faction, the Emperor was his shield!

"Hah! Come on, Old Zhao, let's go to Qianmen Tower." Li Li Chengliang laughed loudly, rolling his shoulders.

"What for?" Hou Hou Yuzhao frowned, sensing something was amiss. Li Li Chengliang loved brothels and music—he'd opened a flower house in Tie Ling and been scolded by censors. But Qianmen Tower was a teahouse for storytelling—what did Li Li Chengliang want there?

"Beat that scholar-rascal! Zhao Zhao Nanxing!" Li Li Chengliang strode toward the great teahouse.

When he fought on the frontlines, he had to endure these scholar-rascals again and again. Even if his heart burned with rage, he dared not vent it—he had to remain humble, lest he lose his supplies and earn the reputation of a rebellious general, making the court wary.

Now, at last, he could unleash his inner fury—it was imperial permission!

Li Li Chengliang did not go alone. As the second-ranking military meritocrat after Qi Qi Jiguang, he commanded two hundred Iron Forest soldiers—all Embroidered Uniform Guards—who protected his safety while also monitoring him to prevent him from harboring assassins, ensuring mutual dignity.

The group stormed through the capital and burst into Qianmen Tower.

"Sir, are you here for storytelling or discussion? Our shop isn't open yet—perhaps come back at noon?" The waiter, terrified by the sight, bravely stepped forward to block them, unsure if these burly men would draw blades next.

"How much do you earn a month?" Li Li Chengliang asked with a smile.

The waiter replied, puzzled: "Fifteen hundred cash."

"For so little, why risk your life? I'm looking for Zhao Zhao Nanxing. Tell me where he is." Li Li Chengliang tossed down three silver coins. Harassing such minor folk wasn't worth his strength.

"In the back courtyard, Yi Building, Room Three," the waiter snatched the coins and beamed. He pointed lowly: "Zhao Zhao Nanxing got drunk yesterday and brought back a courtesan. We don't allow prostitutes to stay here, but he refused to leave, flew into a rage—we dared not oppose him, so we let him in."

"Zhao Zhao Nanxing hasn't risen yet, sirs—please go ahead!"

Upon hearing they sought Zhao Zhao Nanxing's trouble, the waiter immediately

stopped blocking them. Their storytelling hall dared not provoke scholars or military meritocrats.

"Fine, I'll find him myself." Li Li Chengliang led the Iron Forest soldiers straight to Yi Building, Room Three. One Embroidered Uniform Guard knocked—no answer.

Li Li Chengliang kicked the door open and lunged at Zhao Zhao Nanxing, still dressing, grabbing his collar and barking: "Are you Zhao Zhao Nanxing?"

"I am Zhao Zhao Nanxing," Zhao Zhao Nanxing trembled violently—he couldn't recall offending such a fearsome man.

"Remember my face—I am Marquis Ningyuan Marquis Li Li Chengliang." Li Li Chengliang clenched his fist and delivered a cannon punch straight to Zhao Zhao Nanxing's face. The punch angled inward, its force striking before the fist arrived—the blow was precise and brutal.

Zhao Zhao Nanxing, a frail scholar, had never endured such violence. Li Li Chengliang had spent a lifetime in battle; even in old age, that single punch nearly killed Zhao Zhao Nanxing.

"Old Li, Old Li! Hold back! Don't kill him!" Hou Hou Yuzhao rushed to intervene.

"I know. I used only one-third strength—he won't die." Li Li Chengliang shook Zhao Zhao Nanxing until he regained consciousness, then delivered another heavy punch to his face before tossing him onto the bed.

Li Li Chengliang had killed countless men in his life—he knew exactly how much damage to inflict. The wounds looked severe, but his real aim was to humiliate Zhao Zhao Nanxing.

These scholars valued their honor more than their lives.

"Why did you burst in and attack me?" Zhao Zhao Nanxing cowered in the bed's corner, terrified—more frightened than the courtesan.

"I am Li Li Chengliang. Do I need a reason to beat you?" Li Li Chengliang clapped his hands, grinning. "You're a scholar-rascal. While I fight on the frontlines, you stir up trouble behind my back, whispering lies. If I threw you to the Japanese pirates, you'd understand why we must strengthen our martial spirit."

"Home!" Li Li Chengliang departed Qianmen Tower's great teahouse, triumphant and swaggering.

His choice was right—he gained honor and beat a scholar-rascal. Far more exciting than anything in Liaodong.