Chapter 976

Zhu Yijun, Zhang Juzheng, and Ling Yunyi discussed the recent visit of the Western envoys in the Tonghemen Imperial Study, noting that Spain, which had never missed sending an envoy since Wanli’s first year, had this time dispatched a noble from the Merca Wool Association named Pedro, who did not come to Great Ming.

According to rumors from the Portuguese envoy, Pedro vanished completely after returning to Madrid, and he was almost certainly executed—Felipe was never a merciful monarch.

Moreover, Pedro failed to bring back what Felipe desired: victory.

Felipe now desperately needed victory; even a whisper of it would have spared him, but Pedro brought back no victory, no narrative of triumph—only news of catastrophic defeat.

His chances of survival were negligible.

Pedro ultimately failed, unable to restore Felipe’s former wisdom.

Felipe was called a tyrant in the West; look at what he did to the Netherlands—he was far from merciful. Now, to fulfill his imperial ambitions, he launched an expedition against England, hollowing out the very foundations of his empire—including its most precious credibility—for personal desire.

After this bankruptcy of the gold bonds, even Felipe’s prestige could not revive the issuance of new gold bonds; no one believed him anymore.

War broke out between Spain and Portugal; Portugal won on the battlefield, but Felipe won outside it.

Everyone knew Felipe was treating a funeral as a celebration, chasing victory for victory’s sake, yet everyone humored him—“The Emperor’s New Clothes” was never merely a fairy tale, but a reflection of reality.

Zhu Yijun felt a pang of fear—that one day he might become lost in such false victories, unable to extricate himself.

Yet thinking of Hai Rui, Xu Chengchu, and Yuan Keli, upright ministers of iron backbone, he realized slipping into such delusions would be difficult.

Great Ming’s system was not the immature feudal structure of the West, but a highly mature commandery-county imperial system.

“Victory is a lie. Victory is a tool to soothe public resentment and divert conflict. If you cannot win, you die,” Ling Yunyi said, unsurprised by Felipe’s choices.

Ling Yunyi and Zhang Juzheng had both lived through the final years of Jiajing’s reign—the Tartar incursions, the Japanese pirate raids—when every report of defeat sent to the throne filled the court with dread, the air thick with fear that the old dragon locked in the Western Garden would unleash divine wrath.

But the Daoist Lord differed from Felipe; the Daoist Lord could accept defeat—whether in losses against the Northern Tartars, the rampant Japanese pirates, or Hai Rui’s “Memorial on Governance.”

Even in his old age, the Daoist Lord accepted defeat, then poured all his strength into solving problems on the basis of that defeat.

Generals like Ma Fang, Qi Jiguang, Yu Dayou, Tan Lun, and Wang Chonggu were all born in that era.

Qi Jiguang often said: “Winning and losing are common in warfare. Only by understanding this can one become a competent general. If one dares not face defeat, how can one ever achieve true victory?”

The Tartar incursions ended in the peace talks of Longqing’s fourth year, when Altan Khan was granted the title of king and forced to submit.

The Japanese pirate threat ended in Wanli’s second year, when Yin Zhengmao and Zhang Yuanxun crushed the Guangdong pirates.

Despite the tortuous path and immense difficulty, Great Ming ultimately prevailed—or rather, the Daoist Lord prevailed—in resolving these two existential threats to the realm.

Thus, the Daoist Lord was a monarch of mixed reputation, not a simple fool.

“When Wan Wengong, the Wan Zongbo, was in court, he always told me: acknowledge that some things in this world are incomprehensible. Today, watching Felipe’s decisions, I am truly moved.” Zhu Yijun spoke of the late Wan Shihé.

Zhang Juzheng and Ling Yunyi understood exactly what the emperor meant.

At the start of the sea-opening, the Ministry of Rites fell into an obsession: the stubborn belief that one could fully comprehend the barbarians’ thoughts, seeking some ultimate, eternal answer to explain everything—to interpret the ideas of these tribes and the colonized.

But Wan Shihé failed. After his failure, he proposed a radical view: ignore the colonized’s thoughts. Beat them once, and they will reconcile themselves. Those who cannot understand are already dead.

Some of Wan Shihé’s words seemed insignificant at the time, but when something unexpected happened, one realized his theory had already explained the phenomenon.

An ultimate answer that claims to explain everything—like a god, or the classics clung to by petty Confucians, who insist on interpreting all modern contradictions through the words of Confucius and Mencius over two millennia—is akin to the nihilistic utopia sought by the Pure Bliss sect.

Zhu Yijun called this all-explaining ultimate answer “Big Dad.”

Some people, lacking a father above them, become anxious, unable to sleep or eat, desperately craving a father above them to feel secure—addicted to submitting, they hunger for all victories, real or false.

Acknowledging that some things in the world are incomprehensible is vital. Wan Shihé once said: “If you do not understand life, how can you understand death?” If you cannot grasp living, pondering death is pointless.

Death and the world beyond are forever beyond human experience; pursuing abstract, useless tales of gods and ghosts is meaningless.

Wan Shihé hoped the emperor could face the unknown, the inexplicable, the possible defeat, and all things with equanimity—and instill this equanimity throughout Great Ming, forging broad consensus.

Great Ming can lose. Losing is not terrifying—but dying is.

“Your Majesty, drought and flood are out of balance.” Zhang Juzheng arrived at the Tonghemen Imperial Study to stop the emperor from conducting loyalty tests—but they had already begun, so he could only proceed while observing; if necessary, he would use the Grand Secretariat’s power of rejection to halt the matter. Still, he had serious business.

The celestial imbalance of drought and flood continued, growing more severe.

But Heaven seemed addicted to the game, refusing to deliver a decisive blow.

This year, drought and flood remained unbalanced, but the damage was not severe; prior warnings had mitigated harm within acceptable limits. In Huguang, especially Hunan, several native chieftains stirred unrest, quelled by the patrol troops’ archers—small-scale, only one or two hundred men.

Zhu Yijun felt absurdity: the celestial imbalance had become a level-clearing game.

A malevolent demon, full of cruel whimsy, set trials just beyond Great Ming’s tolerance—annoying but not fatal—as if completing tasks and accumulating enough foundation would let one pass to the next level.

It was an illusion. Climate change never happens overnight; it grows gradually more severe, yet always leaves a sliver of hope. Whether Great Ming seizes it depends entirely on whether it can complete the Wanli Reforms and strengthen its resilience.

“The native chieftains of Guizhou have rebelled. Yang Yinglong, hereditary native magistrate of Bozhou, has committed unlawful acts,” Ling Yunyi said, his face grim. “At the beginning of this year, Guizhou Provincial Governor Ye Mengxiong summoned the native chieftains of Sichuan and Guizhou for a joint inspection. Yang Yinglong, citing illness, did not attend.”

The joint inspection was a triennial meeting convened by the governors of Sichuan, Yunnan, and Guizhou, gathering all hereditary native officials in Chengdu, Dali, or Guizhou.

The meetings typically addressed imperial edicts, mediated disputes among native chieftains, and punished unlawful conduct—similar to the Council of the Huan Tai Trade Alliance established in Liuqiu.

It was merely a place for quarreling, preventing conflicts from escalating into open warfare.

Gao Qi’s council had borrowed Great Ming’s experience managing native chieftains to create a similar inspection system.

The inspections were useful—at least they prevented bloody fights over water or a few logs—but ultimately had little real power, since some hereditary enmities could not be resolved even by the governor’s intervention.

When the court ordered them to stop fighting, the chieftains ignored it and continued their attacks. When things grew violent, local Han troops would suppress them—like when Liu Ting and Ceng Shengwu crushed the Jiusi rebellion and eradicated the Duzhang Man in Wanli’s first year.

Every so often, the court had to dispatch troops to destroy several native chieftains to make the others obey.

Sometimes, native chieftains simply could not understand Great Ming’s reasoning—they understood only fists.

Yang Yinglong was precisely such a hereditary chieftain who could not comprehend reason and wished to test the fist. Since his appointment in the Tang dynasty, he was the twenty-ninth hereditary ruler of Bozhou, wielding immense authority there.

“Yang Yinglong is ill. Are his sons ill too?” Zhu Yijun’s tone carried irritation.

The inspection did not require the chieftains themselves to attend; the Hongmen Banquet was too high a-level stratagem. The chieftains feared the court might suddenly strike during an inspection and slaughter them all, forcibly replacing native rule with direct administration.

If the chieftain did not come, his son could come instead.

But Yang Yinglong did not come. Neither did his sons.

“During the Duzhang Man affair, the chieftain refused to attend the inspection, even sending no son—acting like a local emperor,” Ling Yunyi said, thereby defining Yang Yinglong’s character.

In Great Ming, if Yang Yinglong is a local emperor, then what status does the emperor himself hold?

The Duzhang Man’s disloyalty began precisely with their refusal to attend inspections. When a native official refuses to attend, it signals he has other intentions.

“Guizhou Provincial Governor Ye Mengxiong submitted a memorial detailing Yang Yinglong’s crimes, requesting the court dispatch troops to arrest him and execute him publicly in Chongqing,” Ling Yunyi said, presenting Ye Mengxiong’s memorial, which listed five capital offenses.

His residence carved with dragons and phoenixes—crime one.

Illegally employing eunuchs to build the Hai Long Palace—crime two.

Ruthlessly using executions to instill fear; his five clans and seven surnames suffered unbearable cruelty—crime three.

Favored concubine, murdered wife, killed mother-in-law, killed wife’s uncle, exterminated his wife’s entire family—crime four.

Secretly stockpiling powerful bows, crossbows, cannons, armor, and fortifying checkpoints—evidence of rebellion—crime five.

Yang Yinglong’s wife was from the Zhang family of Yongchuan in Chongqing. Her relative, Zhang Shizhao, served as county magistrate in Chongqing. Fearing Yang Yinglong, Zhang Shizhao fled back to Chongqing and submitted a blood-written petition detailing Yang’s atrocities; the Zhang bloodline was nearly exterminated.

“Sichuan Provincial Governor Li Shangsi petitioned to temporarily suspend investigation,” Zhang Juzheng presented Li Shangsi’s memorial to the emperor.

Yang Yinglong was guilty. Each of the five charges was a capital offense, each with irrefutable evidence. Over the past few years, Yang Yinglong repeatedly dispatched troops to raid Yusheng, Dahu, and Duba, committing arson, murder, and plunder without restraint.

Li Shangsi was aware of these acts. His recommendation to suspend investigation was not due to bribery or favoritism, but based on a fundamental fact: Great Ming was currently at war with the Taungoo. Sichuan’s Han troops were deployed into Yunnan and Burma, leaving Sichuan vulnerable.

Rebellions among native chieftains in Yunnan, Guizhou, Sichuan, and Guizhou had always been suppressed by Sichuan’s Han troops. The recent Dali campaign proved the so-called “tamed Miao” could not be trusted; only when the Prince of Kunming requested Sichuan’s Han troops did the crisis end.

With Sichuan’s Han troops all in Burma, arresting Yang Yinglong now would risk disaster. If Yang Yinglong allied with other chieftains in rebellion, it could unpredictably disrupt the Taungoo front.

Yang Yinglong was the twenty-ninth hereditary ruler of Bozhou, with deep roots in the region. The entire Bozhou area would rise in response. If the unrest grew large, it would be extremely dangerous.

Li Shangsi proposed steps: make Yang Yinglong produce a few scapegoats to be executed in Chongqing, primarily to appease the raided chieftains; make Yang pay silver to redeem his crimes; surrender his second son, Yang Kedong, as a hostage; and accept imperial reprimand without further provocation.

The raided areas were all native chieftain territories. Native chieftain conflicts, if not too large, the court had no interest in mediating—deep mountains and forests held little appeal for anyone.

Li Shangsi’s reasoning held some merit, for Zhu Yijun recalled the Qianlong-era wars of the Golden Mountains.

If war broke out in Bozhou, no one knew how long it would last or how far it would escalate. Pacification remained preferable.

Let big matters become small, small ones vanish—temporarily pacify Yang Yinglong, and continue the offensive against Taungoo.

Yunnan and Sichuan shared the same stance: continue fighting Taungoo to secure an outlet to the sea, making Yunnan a coastal province.

The Bengal region’s textile industry was advanced. If an outlet to the Western seas could be opened, it would be eternal fortune for Yunnan—and beneficial to the court, since Bengal’s saltpeter must be transported by sea, which remained unsettling; land routes were safer.

“Vice Minister Ling, I believe pacification is preferable to suppressing the Yang family of Bozhou. Wait until the court has the capacity, then punish severely,” Zhang Juzheng stated his view.

Ling Yunyi sighed helplessly: “Chief Minister Zhang! How can I make you understand? Li Shangsi’s reasoning is sound—but will Yang Yinglong listen? Watch: if the court pacifies him, he will see it as weakness.”

“His raids on other chieftains are tests of the court. If the court pacifies him, he will believe the court lacks strength to control him and will seize the chance to continue his attacks.”

Ling Yunyi had dealt with these chieftains in Guangdong. When the Yao of Luoding’s three counties rebelled, Ling Yunyi’s ruthlessness had not yet hardened; he tried reasoning with them, but the more he reasoned, the worse things became—until he finally slaughtered them all.

Now the Yang family of Bozhou was the same: they were restless, their ambition no longer containable!

“What are these hereditary chieftains thinking? If they provoke the court’s wrath, how can they survive? Why not accept the court’s offer to negotiate and remain loyal native rulers?” Zhang Juzheng looked perplexed, utterly baffled by their mindset.

If they truly defied Great Ming, the court would send troops—and their heads would already be severed.

Zhang Juzheng lacked local governance experience and had never dealt with native chieftains; he simply could not comprehend.

“Wan Zongbo said: acknowledge that some things in this world are incomprehensible,” Zhu Yijun sat upright and said: “Master, stop thinking. Even if you ponder for ten days and nights, you will never understand why he has the courage—but he did it anyway.”

“He is testing the court. Testing me. Testing whether I will mobilize troops.”

“Then let us proceed with courtesy first, then force. Follow Li Shangsi’s proposal to pacify him first. If he interprets our goodwill as weakness, mobilize Sichuan’s Han troops to crush him. Meanwhile, have the Ministry of War deliver the new-style cannons to Sichuan’s Han army.”

Zhu Yijun had not immediately launched a campaign because mobilizing troops, transporting equipment and grain required time. Had Sichuan not been empty, he would never have given Yang Yinglong this chance.

“Yang Yinglong has backers,” Zhu Yijun continued. “Since Wanli’s tenth year, Great Ming has intensified its policy of replacing native rule with direct administration. Naturally, hereditary native officials resent this. Yang Yinglong has seized this resentment, and other hereditary chieftains are backing him.”

“If Yang Yinglong refuses to repent and continues his defiance, this war must not only destroy Yang Yinglong—it must crush the disloyal hearts of all native chieftains!”

Great Ming’s policy of replacing native rule with direct administration had been formulated when Hai Rui was alive. Hai Rui’s imperial examination graduates were among those willing to serve as direct administrators in native territories, as one of the rewards granted.

Replacing native rule with direct administration was about distributing the achievements of the Wanli Reforms to the native chieftains and tamed Miao of Yunnan, Guizhou, Sichuan, and Guizhou. This process could not be gentle—otherwise, these chieftains would simply swallow all the distributed benefits for themselves.

Zhu Yijun did not immediately launch a military campaign because mobilizing troops, deploying equipment, and transporting grain and supplies required time; had Sichuan not been weakly defended, he would not have given Yang Yinglong this opportunity.

“Yang Yinglong has backers,” Zhu Yijun continued. “Since Wanli Ten, the Great Ming has undertaken a larger-scale policy of replacing hereditary chieftains with imperial officials; these hereditary chieftains naturally resented this change, and Yang Yinglong exploited this resentment, while these hereditary chieftains lent him support from behind.”

“If Yang Yinglong refuses to repent and shows no restraint, this war must not only crush Yang Yinglong, but also shatter the disloyal ambitions of all the chieftains!”

The Great Ming’s policy of replacing hereditary chieftains with imperial officials was already formulated during Hai Rui’s lifetime; Hai Rui had passed the imperial examination through special merit, and this was one of the rewards offered to those willing to serve as imperial officials among the chieftains.

The policy of replacing hereditary chieftains with imperial officials was meant to distribute the fruits of the Wanli Reforms to the chieftains and assimilated tribes of Yunnan, Guizhou, Sichuan, and Guizhou; this process must not be gentle, or these chieftains will swallow all the distributed benefits for themselves.

Since the tenth year of Wanli, Yunnan and Guizhou have developed about 350,000 mu of tea plantations, which was originally a benevolent initiative, but these plantations have been encroached upon to varying degrees by these hereditary native chieftains.

Tea farmers toil hard but receive no fair compensation, while these hereditary native chieftains sell the tea along the Tea-Horse Road to Sichuan and Tibet for enormous profits.

The policy of replacing native chieftains with imperial officials is imperative; using Yang Yinglong as a sacrificial offering to launch this reform, even if he truly submits, the Great Ming will not spare him once it regains its freedom.

Zhu Yijun discussed numerous state affairs with Zhang Juzheng; busy days remain busy, and on the fourth day of the seventh month, Zhu Yijun opened the Huangji Hall to hold a grand court assembly, summoning the three Eastern Pacific Viceroys.

In addition to the three Viceroys, there were a total of nine secretaries and twelve city governors from the three Viceroyalties.

“No need to bow,” Zhu Yijun gestured for all to rise, then smiled and said: “You have all come from afar for the vital task of establishing the Pacific Trade Alliance; today, I open the Huangji Hall to receive you, to demonstrate the Great Ming’s sincerity.”

“The Great Ming has both the will and the capacity to ensure the stable operation of the Pacific Trade Alliance; all established terms are expected to be fully implemented by you.”

“The Great Ming always keeps its word; promises made and agreements signed will not be treated as waste paper. I hope you too will strictly adhere to every clause of the charter.”

Zhu Yijun opened the Huangji Hall to show his seriousness, but his words were not gentle.

The consequences of violating the charter go without saying—the Great Ming’s wrath is certainly beyond the capacity of these Viceroyalties to bear.

Zhu Yijun spoke individually with each of the three Viceroys and answered questions regarding the charter; these were not pre-scripted by the Ministry of Rites, but rather precise responses based on Zhu Yijun’s own understanding of the trade charter.

“Viceroy Petto, I know you—your three pirate bands must cease being pirates. Commander Luo Shangzhi of Jinshan has reported that, starting this year, the Great Ming will, per the Security Clause of the charter, hunt down pirates across the entire East Pacific and conduct regular patrols; if you are harmed in the process, it will only damage amicable relations.” Zhu Yijun warned Petto: continue pirating, and you will be beaten.

You used to be wild dogs, biting anyone you pleased—that was fine. Now that you can eat at the Great Ming’s table, don’t do such things anymore.

“I will follow Your Majesty’s decree: upon returning to Mexico, I will halt these actions. If they ignore my advice and continue raiding, and are destroyed by the Great Ming’s invincible navy, the disaster that follows will be entirely their own fault,” Petto hastily bowed again in reply.

The Great Ming is a civilized empire that respects order and naturally despises pirates; granting him this chance is solely due to the value of Mexico’s silver mines.

In truth, Petto understood his own position clearly—he had been pacified.

The Great Ming has two methods for dealing with pirates: pacification or annihilation. Refuse the offer of pacification, and you will face the 36-pound cannonballs of the navy.

The Great Ming’s overall strategy for opening the seas revolves around “trading with the sword”; its overseas merchant ships are never gentle, for behind every merchant vessel stands the Great Ming navy.

Who would choose to be a pirate if they could be respectable? Even Xie Ruixiang, that desperate outlaw, does not wish to be a pirate.

The three Viceroyalties each have different circumstances; Peru and Chile lean more toward being fence-sitters, since Felipe did not strip them of all their interests, leaving them a little.

Petto, however, is nearly cornered; rumors even say Felipe plans to recall Petto to Spain for trial, because Petto’s pirate bands have plundered Felipe’s treasure ships.

The twelve city governors also received the opportunity for audience; they came to pay homage to the Emperor and confirm that the Pacific Trade Alliance had the Emperor’s approval.

“We take our leave, Your Majesty,” Petto and the others performed another deep bow and departed the Huangji Hall.

Zhu Yijun continued receiving envoys from various nations in the Huangji Hall.

The Mughal envoy was Shah Mahmud; after paying twenty thousand taels of silver for a new group of about twenty students, the Great Ming Emperor agreed to continue the cotton, cotton cloth, and saltpeter trade.

Shah Mahmud also brought news: Emperor Akbar’s conquest of southern India was proceeding smoothly; aside from a few city-states holding out in resistance, this meant even more cotton fields could be opened.

Akbar worried the Great Ming could not absorb so much cotton and sought the Great Ming’s opinion.

After consulting the Ministry of Revenue, Zhu Yijun replied: the more, the better.

Before the Pacific Trade Alliance was launched, the Ministry of Revenue lacked such confidence; but now that the Alliance has been established, the Great Ming’s supply of cotton cloth has become almost insufficient.

While preparing to advance southward, Akbar also intends to press northwestward, reclaim his homeland of Afghanistan, and find the answer to his old question: “Who am I?”

The Siamese envoy came to explain why Siam had failed to aid Laos.

It was not that Siam did not wish to, but that it dared not; both the Toungoo and Annan kingdoms had sent envoys demanding Siam not interfere.

The Toungoo had been crushed by the Great Ming and could not raise its head; Annan was desperately avoiding being fully ruled by the Great Ming again. To the Great Ming, both were minor, weak states—but on the Indochinese Peninsula, both were little tyrants who could attack whomever they pleased.

The Toungoo and Annan demanded Siam join them in joint military action; Siam ultimately chose neutrality.

Only now did Zhu Yijun learn the full details: Annan punched and kicked everyone—it had no equal.

Annan also sent an envoy to the Great Ming, but he failed to gain an audience with the Emperor.

Since the Jiajing reign, Annan has been a tributary state; it should not send envoys but rather dispatch officials to the capital for official reporting, and must not utilize the Honglu Temple's diplomatic channels. Annan's dispatch of envoys was a deliberate assertion of its independence.

But previously, Annan had always sent envoys, and the Honglu Temple had never before blocked Annan’s envoys from audience.

The main reason was that Annan’s envoy’s demands were ones the Great Ming could not accept; so they simply refused to let him ascend the throne.

Annan demanded the Great Ming prohibit its merchants from purchasing Annan grain, prohibit Annan people from being sold as barbarian slaves to the South Seas, and prohibit the Guangzhou Provincial Governor from extorting Annan under the pretext of debt collection.

The Great Ming could not accept any of these demands.

The grain sellers were Annan merchants; the people enslaved were captured by Annan themselves; nearly all the grain and barbarian slaves seemed to grow inside the ship holds—how could the Great Ming regulate this?

Annan brought this suffering upon itself; the Great Ming merely conducts trade. Many Great Ming merchants refuse barbarian slaves because they are inconvenient to liquidate.

As for the final demand: debt must be repaid—it is natural justice. If Annan merchants owe money to Great Ming traders, the Guangzhou Provincial Governor acts on behalf of the people by collecting promissory notes and pursuing debts—is that wrong?

The Ministry of Rites directly blocked Annan’s envoy, refusing to let him ascend the throne and offend His Majesty.

Zhu Yijun approved the Ministry of Rites’ request: Annan people are ugly, yet they imagine themselves beautiful.

Imported grain affects grain prices around several Maritime Customs offices, especially in Songjiang and Guangzhou prefectures, where arable land is rapidly shrinking; Songjiang’s remaining land is planted with cotton. Without imported grain, grain prices cannot remain stable.

Even if Zhu Yijun agreed, officials from Huguang, Jiangxi, Jiangzuo, Jiangyou, and Zhejiang would not agree—they rely on their offices in Songjiang to buy imported grain to pay part of their land taxes to the court.

Heaven’s changes hang high; droughts and floods are unbalanced. Every additional shi of imported grain purchased reduces the likelihood of civil unrest.

This year brought a special envoy: Wenda, the Xianbei Wanhu from the Xianbei Plains.

This Wanhu looked exactly like a Tartar: extremely robust, somewhat fierce, with straight black hair, pale yellow skin, and light brown eyes—indistinguishable from the Tartars Zhu Yijun had met.

Wenda, the Xianbei Wanhu, came to the capital not only for fur trade, but primarily to thank the Great Ming court.

Some escaped Japanese laborers from road construction projects had run amok on the Xianbei steppe, gathering about a thousand men to plunder indiscriminately.

The Great Ming’s beacon-tower reconnaissance teams, cooperating with Xianbei tribal warriors, crushed these Japanese marauders, bringing peace to the Xianbei Plains.

Zhu Yijun learned from the envoy that each reconnaissance team led by a beacon-tower scout now had three to five Xianbei servants, who were notably fierce.

“This Wanhu’s visit to court is to request that I enfeoff the Xianbei Great Khan Wuerhan as a vassal monarch?” Zhu Yijun said with puzzlement: “Without my enfeoffment, is he not a monarch?”

“Most High and Supreme Emperor of the Great Ming, without your enfeoffment, we cannot establish our own state,” Wenda bowed again, sincerely saying.

"O Supreme Emperor of Great Ming, without your investiture, we cannot establish our own nation," said Wenda, the Xianbei myriarch, bowing deeply and speaking with sincerity.