Chapter 84: Chapter Eighty-Four: Enrich the State to Secure the Realm, Strengthen the Military to Punish Disobedient Subjects (In Ce

The Emperor truly does not attend to his duties. Volume Eighty-Four: Enrich the State to Secure the Realm, Strengthen the Military to Punish Disobedient Subjects. Zhang Juzheng, upon hearing the Emperor’s inquiry, replied whether Xu Jie would honestly return the land.

“I do not know,” Zhang Juzheng said, shaking his head.

Zhang Juzheng played riddles with the young Emperor, who did not spare him—he flicked his sleeve, turned his back, and walked out of the Wenhua Palace, smiling: “To know what you know and know what you do not know—that is wisdom.”

“Your servant bids Your Majesty farewell,” Zhang Juzheng bowed low, seeing the Emperor depart from the Wenhua Palace.

He knew his own intentions could never hide from the Emperor; Zhang Juzheng had staged this grand spectacle not to confront Xu Jie, but to sharpen his blade—he held it up before Xu Jie, saying: You are not the only one who knows how to play the doubling game.

Zhang Juzheng’s grand maneuver was never merely about Xu Jie’s 240,000 mu of land—it was about the seven hundred thousand mu of farmland seized by the Southern Office; these seven hundred thousand mu of regular fields were the core of Zhang Juzheng’s design.

If Xu Jie returns the land, let him resist—let him resist with all his strength; then Zhang Juzheng may justly expand the scope.

The state’s finances are in dire straits; the court has no grain, no money—only solutions remain. Zhang Juzheng’s solution: whoever has grain and money, pay up.

In the afternoon, Zhu Yijun appeared at the Baqi Office in the Western Garden, passing the Chengguang Palace—the former power center where Emperor Jiajing received his ministers.

During the Jiajing reign, the empire’s center of power was not the Wenhua Palace, but the Chengguang Palace—this was the Ming system: the imperial seat shifted according to the Emperor’s whim.

The Taiye Bridge had eighteen bends, built of white marble arches; though over three hundred years old, it remained solid, while the Guanghan Palace had not been repaired in years—when the Baqi Office was being established, the Guanghan Palace collapsed amid gasps.

Zhang Jing and Xu Jue, two eunuchs, discovered one hundred and twenty coins inscribed with “Zhiyuan Tongbao” on the main beams.

These one hundred and twenty Zhiyuan Tongbao coins were small copper cash cast by Kublai Khan, the Yuan dynasty’s founding emperor, one inch in diameter, with fine rims and thick metal, properly sized holes, Han script on the front and Phagspa script on the back—Phagspa was Kublai’s living state preceptor, and the Phagspa script was his newly invented Mongolian writing.

By the Wanli era, no one used this Mongolian script anymore.

Emperor Jiajing had lived in this Guanghan Palace, built by Kublai Khan, from the twenty-first year of his reign until December of the forty-fifth year.

Before it collapsed, the Guanghan Palace was merely old and dilapidated—a three-hundred-year-old house whose main beams had never been touched.

From these one hundred and twenty coins, Zhu Yijun selected the six best-preserved and bestowed them upon Zhang Juzheng, the empire’s chief minister, and three more to Hai Rui, head of the imperial censorate.

After clearing the debris of the Guanghan Palace, major construction began on Qionghua Island—specifically, several new buildings were erected, the garden grounds leveled, and the greenhouse for seedling cultivation expanded.

The Guanghan Palace had fallen; the newly completed Baqi Palace bore a striking resemblance to Zhang Juzheng’s Quan Chu Guild Hall—more like a home. Zhu Yijun had often sneaked meals there and admired its layout, so he copied it directly.

After crossing the eighteen-bend Taiye Bridge, Zhu Yijun stood before the Baqi Office square and saw Qi Jiguang, Yu Dayou, and Ma Fang.

Yu Dayou had returned to the capital over fifteen days ago; besides serving as vice director of the Imperial Military Talent Selection, his crucial mission was to carry sweet potato seedlings to Songjiang and other regions to test cultivation—and he was granted free access to the Baqi Office to learn sweet potato seedling techniques.

“Your servants pay homage to Your Majesty—may Your Majesty live ten thousand years, ten thousand years, ten thousand ten thousand years,” the three generals bowed five times and kowtowed thrice.

Zhu Yijun signaled them to rise, and Feng Bao brought three seedling boxes—each contained only one lush, green sweet potato sprout. The boxes were mere formalities, symbolizing their duty to spread the seedlings; the true value lay in each receiving three thousand jin of seed tubers, processed by pinching tips and heat-treated to sterilize.

These sweet potatoes were the essence of the seedling method.

Qi Jiguang would take the sweet potatoes to Jizhou, Yongping, and Shanhai Pass for military farming; Yu Dayou would carry them to Songjiang; Ma Fang would bring them to Xuanfu and Datong.

Zhu Yijun leaned slightly forward, gazing at the lush fields behind him, and after a long silence said: “Our dynasty secured its Jiangshan through martial strength, establishing military colonies across the realm—ten thousand men united, invincible. Today, I wish to spread sweet potato seedlings to relieve famine. I entrust this military farming to you, generals.”

Ming military farming was primarily carried out by the military colony system; the garrisons in the empire’s heartland had long decayed, leaving only frontier garrisons still practicing farming.

“We dare not refuse,” the three generals saluted and received the seedlings.

Zhu Yijun kept Yu Dayou behind, entering the newly built Baqi Palace, which replaced Guanghan Palace, and studied the seventy-year-old man before him—Yu Dayou, born in the sixteenth year of Hongzhi under Emperor Xiaozong, was now seventy.

His white hair bore the storms of seventy years of Ming history; his lined face reflected the dynasty’s rises and falls.

To prove he could still fight, in Longqing six, Yu Dayou wrote to Tan Lun: “My sword is still sharp—I am sixty-nine and can still make women pregnant.”

Is Lian Po old? Can he still eat?

Lian Po said he could still eat five bowls!

Yet Yu Dayou, the Dragon of Ming, to prove he could still fight, uttered such a thing—and still could not secure command.

Now the Dragon stood before the Ming Emperor. On the surface, he was sent to Songjiang to spread seedlings—but Yu Dayou sensed something unusual.

This land return was no simple matter.

“General Yu, Hai Rui recommended you to court. I wished to keep you close to discuss military strategy, but the state is in turmoil. Songjiang’s opening to sea trade concerns the empire’s vital interests—thus I send you to Songjiang to rebuild the Ming navy.” Zhu Yijun signaled Feng Bao to bring a celestial sword—he handed it to Yu Dayou: “Execute the disobedient.”

Only a strong dragon like Yu Dayou could manage Songjiang, could stand as the ballast stone that silenced the monstrous customs office no matter how fierce the storm.

Only a strong dragon can crush the local snakes.

The Songjiang customs office was Yu Dayou’s paramount mission.

Qi Jiguang commanded the capital garrison; only Yu Dayou could be sent to Songjiang to crush resistance. Xu Jie’s land return would not be easy.

Zhu Yijun pulled out Hai Rui’s memorial and explained in detail his plan for opening Songjiang to sea trade—Xu Jie was not the focus; opening the sea was.

“Lian Po is old, yet he can still eat. Your Majesty’s grace is immense—I shall brave fire and water to repay Your Majesty’s favor.” Yu Dayou took the celestial sword, bowed low, and said: “I have three requests—may Your Majesty grant them.”

If Yu Dayou had sung high-flown praises, Zhu Yijun would have been disappointed; but asking for conditions proved he had anticipated his return to court and planned ahead.

A great general is a great general—talking with a sensible man is so easy.

“Speak freely,” Zhu Yijun smiled.

“I request three thousand southern troops to accompany me south to Songjiang,” Yu Dayou stated his first condition—without trusted officers, even a strong dragon cannot cross the river or crush the local snakes.

This echoed Qi Jiguang’s view: military organization is the bedrock of combat power.

“Granted,” Zhu Yijun nodded. “General Qi will transfer three thousand southern troops to you.”

“My second request: appoint Chen Lin, Assistant Regional Military Commissioner of Guangzhou, as my deputy. Chen Lin is strategic and skilled in command.” Yu Dayou named a specific man—Chen Lin, a third-rank military official.

“He is Yin Zhengmao’s prized general. If you take him, Yin will be furious—he is Master Zhang’s man. I will speak with Master Zhang,” Zhu Yijun smiled.

Yin Zhengmao, Viceroy of Guangdong and Guangxi, was a jinshi of the twenty-sixth year of Jiajing, same cohort as Zhang Juzheng, serving as Nanjing Minister of War and concurrently Viceroy.

A great wind begins at the tip of a green Ping —politics, once stirred, shakes the whole system.

Li Qian, a disciple of Gao Gong and Viceroy of Guangdong and Guangxi, had failed repeatedly in suppressing the Miao rebellions of Wei Yinbao and Huang Chaomeng. Li Qian showed no caution, repeatedly mismanaged military affairs, grew arrogant and idle, lost battles, and within months lost several counties—he was a minister who lost territory.

Zhang Juzheng’s rupture with Gao Gong began over the appointment of the Viceroy of Guangdong and Guangxi.

Gao Gong appointed Li Qian, who failed miserably; Zhang Juzheng, as vice minister, recommended his cohort Yin Zhengmao. The two clashed fiercely over the appointment.

Zhang Juzheng won decisively—in late Longqing five, Yin Zhengmao became Viceroy.

At a critical moment, Li Qian lost again—Emperor Longqing ordered him to retire on the spot, return home without coming to court to apologize.

Li Qian’s defeat was unsurprising—he began embezzling the payroll as soon as he took office. Qingyuan reported fifty thousand troops; when Yin Zhengmao arrived, he found only three thousand old, weak, sick, and disabled.

That is, Li Qian began embezzling the payroll the moment he became Viceroy.

When Yin Zhengmao arrived in Longqing five, he found the region complex: internal Miao rebellions, external Japanese pirate raids.

It took Yin Zhengmao three years to restore stability—his method was simple: win.

Wherever conflict arose, Yin Zhengmao won there.

Chen Lin was Yin Zhengmao’s top general, repeatedly earning military merit, now serving as Assistant Regional Military Commissioner. Given his prowess, he would soon command independently. Yu Dayou requested him as deputy for Songjiang—clearly with intent.

This was a very strange phenomenon in the decaying southeast: whenever land survey began, pirates erupted.

Whether there was causality, no one had proof—but the fact held: whenever the court initiated land survey, pirates immediately rose in chaos. Yu Dayou was preventing disaster before it struck.

He was old; if he fell ill suddenly, or if someone harmed him to obstruct state affairs, there must be capable military leadership to hold the line.

Second, he needed a bold, frontline general—Chen Lin was clearly an excellent choice.

Third, Chen Lin was a fierce general; mentioning him before the Emperor would give him visibility and familiarity.

The injustices suffered by Hu Zongxian, Qi Jiguang, and Yu Dayou must not be inflicted on the new generation of generals—victories erased by a few words from censors must end.

Enrich the state, strengthen the military—this “strengthen the military” is not achieved overnight—it requires water dripping through stone, quantitative change leading to qualitative transformation.

“I need at least five years: three to train troops, two to stabilize—only then will the Ming navy be effective.” Yu Dayou gave a clear timeline: five years. He asked only for that time.

“No problem. Extendable,” Zhu Yijun replied vaguely—if five years is too short, then ten, twenty. Zhu Yijun was ten—he could wait. But this must be done.

Those lands belonged to the court! More precisely—they belonged to me!

Zhu Yijun spoke solemnly: “I am young and inexperienced, relying on you, General Yu, as the empire’s pillar. I hope you will hold up the southeast sky for me, for Ming, for the people of the realm!”

Yu Dayou bowed again: “I thank Your Majesty’s boundless grace—I shall give my life, serve as Your Majesty’s vanguard.”

After receiving his orders, Yu Dayou sought out Hai Rui, Zhang Juzheng, and Tan Lun, consulted with them, and without spending a night in the capital, rushed south to the Southern Office.

Wang Daoqun, Zhang Cheng, and others would depart on a set date.

That night, in the Qianqing Palace, the young Emperor, hearing Yu Dayou had already left the capital, remarked thoughtfully: “He expanded territory with heaven-spanning merit, unmatched in history; he possessed the talent to lead armies and govern the state, peerless in both civil and military affairs—General Yu is truly a commander, decisive and swift.”

Zhang Hong hesitated before speaking: “I believe that without Your Majesty, Generals Yu and Qi—even with boundless ambition—would merely be tragic figures, their grand dreams unfulfilled.”

Zhang Hong understood the court’s games: the more capable a general, the more he was impeached; battlefield achievements could be erased by a few words from censors.

After the Japanese pirate threat faded, Yu Dayou gradually vanished from public view—the commander who wrote the “Continuation of the Military Canon” ultimately died in despair.

“You are skilled at flattery. Never do it again. Those around me should not utter such sycophantic words.” Zhu Yijun gave Zhang Hong a clear, unambiguous directive: Well said. Never say it again.

Zhang Hong wanted to say he spoke truth—but the Emperor had given a clear order. He bowed: “Your servant obeys.”

“Bring me General Yu’s ‘Jian Jing.’” Zhu Yijun had received a martial arts manual.

The true martial arts manual: “Jian Jing,” written by Yu Dayou.

Zhu Yijun opened it and found it was a case of “hanging a sheep’s head to sell dog meat”—the manual contained no sword techniques, no short weapons—it taught staff, bow, and formation tactics.

It was called “Jian Jing” because Yu Dayou’s entire skillset derived from the long sword of Jingchu—the “Jian Jing” taught the method of using short weapons as if they were long: Yu Dayou’s signature technique.

Of course, Qi Jiguang had included this in his “New Treatise on Military Efficiency.” Zhu Yijun had read it before—but this copy was Yu Dayou’s own annotated version. After reading it, he gained greatly.

Ming military men, especially infantry, seemed to disdain short weapons. For example, Commander Zhu Xixiao believed “one inch longer, one inch stronger,” while Qi Jiguang held “my length is my strength.” Yet in the “Jian Jing,” a treatise on short weapons, Yu Dayou wrote entirely of staff, bow, and formation.

“Excellent. Excellent.” Zhu Yijun was highly satisfied with the “Jian Jing.”

The “Jian Jing” covered four weapons: hook, dao, spear, and pa.

The next afternoon, Zhu Yijun sparred with Luo Sigong using a staff. Luo Sigong fled in panic. Zhu Yijun, still new to long weapons, had no technique—but under equal strength, Luo Sigong could not match him.

“Luo Sigong! You lack deference! You lack martial virtue! You cheated!” Zhu Yijun leapt three feet in the air as a wooden dao struck his leg—he grimaced in pain. Each blow left a bruise; it would take at least fifteen days to heal.

Luo Sigong, wielding short weapons, though at a disadvantage, struck back several times, closing in and making the young Emperor cry out.

Luo Sigong dropped his wooden dao and knelt: “Your servant deserves death.”

The last men who touched the Emperor’s head—Wang Zhanglong, Chen Hong, and others—had been sent to the Dissection Hall.

Luo Sigong, with his wooden dao, could draw bruises on Zhu Yijun every day.

If he were to be flayed alive, Luo Sigong would have been reduced to dust long ago.

Seeing Luo Sigong kowtow in apology, Zhu Yijun sighed, walked over, pulled him up, and said: “Oh come now, you’re so dull. Get up, get up. I was just joking. Fight as you will. Luo Sigong, you’re only ten—be lively, be like me—cheerful!”

"Yes, yes, yes, just like that."

Wang Zhang’s being touched by the Emperor was an assassination attempt; Luo Sigong and Zhu Yijun sparring was for mutual martial improvement—and to avoid worrying Empress Dowager Li, Zhu Yijun never let her see his injuries, though Chen Shigong, the imperial physician, knew every scar on the young emperor’s body.

Martial skill is forged through taking blows.

"Come on, again." Zhu Yijun picked up his short weapon, training with it just as Luo Sigong did.

Long weapons are effective in formation; short weapons are essential against assassins and traitors.

A waist saber can be carried at all times, drawn instantly in combat—he couldn’t possibly carry a long weapon two heads taller than himself wherever he went! He was still shorter than the Qi family waist saber, which measured five feet; Zhu Yijun was only four feet two.

When Jing Ke stabbed the Qin King, the Qin King circled the pillar—there was the classic scene of the king drawing his sword while holding it against his back. So long weapons must be trained, and short weapons too.

As they fought, Zhu Yijun realized the T-shaped counter-slash was truly effective: simple in motion, fluid as flowing water; if the opponent so much as slipped, a single opening would be ended by two blades.

"Ow!" Luo Sigong cried out in pain, frantically shaking his hand, hopping and jumping.

"Luo Sigong, are you trying to catch blades with your bare hands?!" Zhu Yijun burst into laughter. Just now, the young emperor had deflected Luo Sigong’s wooden saber, spun, and brought his blade down—but fearing injury, he changed the cut to a slap. Luo Sigong instinctively raised his left hand to block—and the heavy blow landed squarely on his palm.

Luo Sigong’s face turned pale, sweat pouring from his forehead; he crouched on the ground, clutching his hand, his expression agonized.

Zhu Yijun realized something was wrong and shouted loudly: "Physician Chen! Someone’s been injured!"

Zhu Yijun rushed forward, pacing anxiously beside Luo Sigong. Chen Shigong, thinking the Emperor was hurt, sprinted over at top speed, opened Luo Sigong’s hand, pressed on it—and Luo Sigong howled in tears.

After examining it, Chen Shigong sighed in relief: "Thank heaven, the bones aren’t broken. Your Majesty, these sparring sessions are far too dangerous—even wooden sabers can kill."

"Thank heaven, thank heaven." Zhu Yijun exhaled deeply. He’d held back as much as he could, yet the blow had still landed hard—Luo Sigong’s palm was swollen three inches high. Then, from relief, he turned to anger: "General Qi has warned many times: never catch blades bare-handed. You can’t even catch a wooden saber!"

"Let me see."

Zhu Yijun crouched down, inspecting Luo Sigong’s injury with a teasing tone: "You won’t be able to join training for ten days, maybe half a month. Don’t think you can slack off—though you’re injured, you still must report for roll call on time, or people will talk."

Hand injuries affect other parts too.

Zhu Yijun had once been struck on the shoulder by Luo Sigong—luckily, it hit a tendon. For half a month, the young emperor could stand his post, but couldn’t run or jump; every step sent searing pain through his entire shoulder.

That pain was so intense it woke the sleeping emperor if he rolled onto his shoulder—like a hand reaching inside and squeezing, throb after throb. For those days, Zhu Yijun moved like an old man on his last breath—any slight motion made his hand twitch.

It was these pains that made Zhu Yijun and Luo Sigong the two most skilled martial partners in the Emperor’s training cadre.

Luo Sigong rose from last place to become the second-best martial artist among the twenty-one.

Of course, everyone assumed Luo Sigong fought fiercely but held back, letting the Emperor remain the strongest.

"Go get a roasted goose after this—it’ll cover your medicine costs," Zhu Yijun pulled Luo Sigong up.

Luo Sigong stubbornly said: "I won’t take it. Last time I injured Your Majesty, you never made me pay."

Zhu Yijun didn’t press him, saying: "Fine. Listen to the physician—rest fifteen full days. No training. Don’t risk permanent damage—you’ll cry too late when I need capable men and have none at hand."

"Your servant obeys." Luo Sigong was obedient—whatever the Emperor ordered, he did, even if it meant striking the Emperor himself.

This was the daily reality of a ten-year-old sovereign: taking blows and delivering them.

Qi Jiguang returned to the capital as Regional Commander; Ma Fang became Deputy Regional Commander; Ma Gui and others were Assistant Regional Commanders. The Great Ming’s new capital garrison was in full swing.

Zhang Siwei was busy lobbying everywhere, but his return to court remained unacknowledged—he was desperate, for Ge Shouli, the current leader of the Jin Party, was gaining overwhelming momentum.

If Zhang Siwei returned on schedule, Ge Shouli could never defeat him.

But events unfolded as Ge Shouli steadily solidified his position as party leader.

Recently, the Emperor’s inspection of the capital troops sparked controversy; under Ge Shouli’s maneuvering, Zhang Juzheng finally agreed to inspect the troops only every five days—a major victory for the Jin Party over the Zhang Party!

This dealt a heavy blow to the Grand Secretary’s arrogant dominance over the throne; Ge Shouli gained immense prestige.

Zhang Siwei was desperate—desperately so—because the Emperor had drawn a clear boundary: the day the breach in Xuan and Da was sealed.

But building the Great Wall took three to five years; by then, the Veritable Records of Emperor Shizong would be complete. If Zhang Siwei returned then, it would be too late—cold leftovers.

On the fifteenth day of the ninth month, after his martial training, the Great Ming Emperor Zhu Yijun rode his carriage to Beitu Cheng and, per protocol, inspected the capital troops.

Qi Jiguang, Yang Wen, Ma Fang, Ma Gui, Li Rusong, and others met the Emperor at the Wuying Tower in Beitu Cheng and reported on the selection and organization of the new capital garrison.

A messenger rushed in, gasping: "Report! Wu Dui, Assistant Military Advisor of Jizhou, sends urgent dispatch: the Northern Barbarian prince and Dong Huli, taking advantage of the autumn grass and fat horses, have gathered thirty thousand troops and are poised to breach the pass southward—they’ve reached forty li beyond Beigukou!"

Zhu Yijun frowned, stood up, and said: "General Qi, accompany me back to the capital. All others, stand ready with weapons at hand."

Zhu Yijun’s carriage waited outside the gate; he ordered Qi Jiguang to join him, and they set off for the capital.

"Your Majesty, this matter is strange," Qi Jiguang said, observing the Emperor’s worried expression.

Zhu Yijun asked: "What’s strange?"

Qi Jiguang’s face grew grave: "I have two concerns. First, I received no reports from the beacon towers, the distant scouts, or the night riders. Moreover, this dispatch bears neither the signature nor the seal of Chen Dacheng, the Jizhou Regional Commander—it was submitted solely by Assistant Military Advisor Wu Dui."

"The beacon towers, distant scouts, and night riders were first established by Yang Hong, Viceroy of Xuan and Da, during the JingTai era—there are now over three thousand, all our empire’s elite scouts. For over a century, they’ve infiltrated enemy camps to gather intelligence. As Three-Territory Chief of Intelligence, I’ve received no report from them. How could an Assistant Military Advisor know before our own beacon towers?"

Beacon towers were the watchtowers along the Great Wall; distant scouts were spies deep in the steppe; night riders were those who stayed out all night, operating in the grasslands.

The beacon tower, distant scout, night rider system had operated for over a century—a complete, well-functioning intelligence network, divided into roles: capturing prisoners, sending reports, guarding posts, supervising scouts, probing, delivering messages, relaying orders, maintaining towers, monitoring ponds, sounding alarms, and overseeing intelligence.

"Ofshan" was the chief of this system in each frontier region, usually held by the Regional Commander of the Nine Borders.

Qi Jiguang was Ofshan of the Three Territories; Liang Menglong and Chen Dacheng remained in Jizhou.

How could thirty thousand barbarians possibly slip past the eyes of the beacon towers, advancing forty li beyond Beigukou without detection?

Previously, Qi Jiguang had defeated Dong Huli at Beigukou and Xifengkou by sending night riders deep into the steppe to confirm the enemy lacked strength to advance—only then did he return to the capital for rewards, delaying his arrival.

Qi Jiguang frowned: "My second concern: Beigukou has hurt the Northern Barbarians—Dong Huli’s nephew was captured by our troops. Dong Huli must rest and regroup before raising more men. Offense and defense have intervals—where did he get so many men?"

"Thirty thousand troops, over a hundred thousand horses—if they truly marched, refugees and rumors would already flood the capital region. Why is it so quiet?"

Zhu Yijun, a ten-year-old sovereign with no battle experience, thought long before speaking: "Are you saying, ‘Outside the bamboo, a few peach blossoms bloom; the ducks know first when spring waters warm’?"

When the weather warms, the water’s warmth is first known by the peach blossoms outside the bamboo and the wild ducks in the water.

If the Northern Barbarians truly mustered such force, the thunder of a hundred thousand hooves forty li beyond Beigukou would have already driven border villagers fleeing inward, spreading rumors everywhere.

"I request to go to Beigukou and investigate," Qi Jiguang bowed. Only by seeing it himself could he know the truth.

Zhu Yijun shook his head: "Not yet. Let’s return to the capital and deliberate in court first."

After returning to the capital, Zhu Yijun went straight to the Wenhua Hall, bypassing even the Qianqing Palace and the two Empress Dowagers, and ordered Feng Bao to summon the Grand Secretariat and the civil-military ministers for a court assembly.

Zhang Juzheng and Lu Diaoyang arrived first—they worked in the Wenyuan Pavilion, directly across from the Wenhua Hall.

The dispatch had reached the Ministry of War; Minister Tan Lun arrived second at the Wenhua Hall. After speaking with Qi Jiguang, both were deeply puzzled.

The two Empress Dowagers, hearing of the Northern Barbarian advance, also arrived at the rear hall of the Wenhua Hall, awaiting the court assembly.

Zhu Yijun sat calmly on the moon terrace, even reading a book with leisure.

In the capital, Qi Jiguang commanded a hundred thousand troops trained in Jizhou, Yongping, and Shanhai Pass. Zhu Yijun didn’t believe the Northern Barbarians could storm into the Wenhua Hall and cut off his head!

Zhu Yijun was utterly calm; only Ge Shouli appeared anxious.

"First, send fast horses to Beigukou to verify," Zhang Juzheng said after exchanging views with Qi Jiguang and Tan Lun. "No lockdown yet—better to confirm the truth of the report first."

"I’ll go," Qi Jiguang said. He preferred to go himself—if it was truly a barbarian invasion, he could immediately assume command and direct border defense, sparing the capital undue panic.

Since arriving from the south in Longqing’s second year, Qi Jiguang had served five years—he didn’t underestimate the Northern Barbarians, nor was he careless. In his eyes, they were no different from the Japanese pirates: easily defeated.

Qi Jiguang never underestimated any foe; he gave every battle his all—that was why he never lost. A general must first consider how he might lose, before thinking of victory—only then can he remain invincible.

In every battle, Qi Jiguang first asked himself: "How could I lose?" And in every battle, he won.

From a strength perspective, Qi Jiguang saw no superiority in the Northern Barbarians; from a victory perspective, he never dismissed any opponent.

"General Qi, calm down—it may be mere rumor-mongering," Zhang Juzheng said with a strange expression. "When you were still away, in Longqing’s second year, someone fabricated a dispatch to sabotage the peace treaty with Altan Khan, deceiving the Provincial Governor and Assistant Advisor, triggering a month-long capital lockdown, costing hundreds of thousands of taels—only to turn out a farce."

"That’s precisely why you were sent north to train troops."

Zhang Juzheng spoke of the past, his expression complex. State affairs hinge on war and ritual—and yet, dispatches were forged, the capital locked down for a month, the people terrified, farmland abandoned, defenses cleared—all for nothing. The forger? Now the Viceroy of Datong, Fang Fengshi.

Emperor Longqing had finally recognized the problem, which is why he approved Qi Jiguang’s northern deployment.

This wasn’t unusual—during the Jiajing era, the Ministry of War’s official seal had been stolen.

Zhu Yijun and Qi Jiguang exchanged glances—Qi Jiguang’s eyes were filled with shock.

This pool of court politics couldn’t be stirred so recklessly.

Even dispatches could be forged to frighten the court—how bold! And now, was Wu Dui’s report a lie?

Reading The Sword Classic: Long Weapon Proficiency +20, Short and Long Weapon Sparring Proficiency +100, Slingshot Fishing: Accuracy +20, Dynamic Targeting +10, Standing Post and Training: Stamina +0.3, Farming: Promoting Sweet Potato, Great Ming Stability +3, Population Estimate +2. Thank you to the reader "Little Flying Carpet" for the tip, deeply grateful—congratulations to the patron "Little Flying Carpet"!! Thank you for your support and recognition, deeply grateful.