Chapter 139: A Covenant of Five Pecks, a Reward of Duke and Marquis (6k)

Within the great hall, one could hear a pin drop. Over a hundred elite soldiers selected for this honor stood with heads bowed in solemn silence; the atmosphere was grave and stern.

Cao Bianjiao stood in the ranks, his mouth parched, the veins at his temples throbbing violently.

The last time he had felt this way was when he was sixteen.

"Bianjiao, go. Cut off the head." His uncle's voice was so calm it held not a ripple of emotion.

He obeyed the order, dismounted, walked over to the corpse, and drew his waist saber.

The first stroke only severed half the neck; the ghastly white vertebrae jammed the blade.

An old soldier standing nearby laughed. "Young Cao, turn the blade sideways and press down at an angle — that's the way. You don't use a chopping stroke!"

He pretended not to hear. His face flushed crimson, and with all his strength he struck again.

This time, the neck snapped through with a crack.

But the man had only just died; the blood inside the chest cavity spurted out with a splatter, drenching his face and body.

To this day he still remembered that smell.

It was like… like a salted watermelon rind, left out overnight after all the flesh had been eaten.

Sweet, salty, and carrying a powerful, rank stench of blood.

Later, that severed head was turned in by his uncle, who was then only a Platoon Officer.

Later still, when the victory report was sent up, that severed head became the battle merit of the Mobile Corps Commander.

And somehow, he — who had merely hacked off a man's head as a File Leader — was promoted to Platoon Officer, while his uncle became a Company Commander.

A few more years passed, and he became a Company Commander, and his uncle a Mobile Corps Commander.

As for that original Mobile Corps Commander, he was removed from his post by a single impeachment memorial from Master Xiong — Xiong Tingbi.

Everything seemed to have changed, and yet nothing seemed to have changed at all.

Lost in thought, he suddenly noticed a slight stir ripple through the ranks ahead.

Cao Bianjiao snapped back to attention and raised his head a fraction. From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed a flash of bright yellow dragon robe descending from the throne.

It was His Majesty!

His heart clenched, and he immediately lowered his head again.

Then he heard a clear, gentle voice ring out from the front of the formation.

"Sun Yingyuan, did you write these characters with your feet? Practice them at once — reading this is making my eyes go blind."

Suppressed laughter rippled around him, along with Sun Yingyuan's muffled, embarrassed reply: "Yes… yes… Your Majesty, this general will practice as soon as he returns, as soon as he returns!"

Cao Bianjiao nervously swallowed the sticky saliva in his throat; his heart beat even faster.

In the answer paper he had just submitted, he had written down practically every abuse he knew of in the army.

Some things he and his uncle had done — he had blurred the specific locations slightly and written those down too.

Empty pay slots, falsified battle merits, embezzling horse fodder, trafficking in military equipment, killing civilians to claim merit…

If he didn't write it down, what if someone else did?

And if no one else wrote it down, but he alone did?

Was His Majesty about to start investigating and interrogating them? Should he send a letter to his uncle tonight, warning him to be careful?

A jumble of chaotic thoughts churned and surged through his mind, making him unbearably anxious.

"Zuo Liangyu, that red face of yours is nearly a match for Lord Guan in the temple." His Majesty's voice was drawing nearer. "But Lord Guan could read the Spring and Autumn Annals. Out of ten of your characters, eight are missing an arm or a leg. That won't do, will it?"

"This general, ahem… will certainly study his characters diligently. Next time, for sure…" Zuo Liangyu was so mortified his face turned even redder.

Cao Bianjiao could not help raising his eyelids another sliver. Through the gaps between the men, he could only see a corner of the Emperor's dragon robe.

"Huang Degong, you've grown that great beard of yours quite nicely — and your paper was well written too!"

"Wu Fangrui, your ranking in the recent review has slipped a bit. Can you catch up before the monthly exam?"

"Xie Youpeng, I hear your wife has given you a big, healthy son? Companion Gao, bestow a few gold-backed coins on him — let me share in his good fortune!"

"Zhu Chengye…"

The Emperor's voice, unhurried and steady, drew gradually closer.

He exchanged a few cordial words with every man — teasing some, encouraging others, showing concern…

The oppressive atmosphere that had weighed on the great hall for over half a shichen dissolved in those brief exchanges, gradually turning relaxed and warm.

Every gaze followed that flash of bright yellow; expressions softened, and from time to time bursts of laughter rang out.

Suddenly, Cao Bianjiao felt the figures in front of him part.

He looked up sharply and met a pair of smiling eyes.

It was the Emperor!

Cao Bianjiao's heart felt as if it would leap out of his throat; his hands clenched into fists by instinct.

Zhu Youjian merely stepped forward, reached out a fist, and thumped him once on the chest.

— His Majesty's archery might not be much to speak of, but he certainly had strength.

"Not bad, Cao Bianjiao."

The Emperor's voice carried a smile.

"That paper of yours today — truly well written. I have read it all. But your review scores are still a little weak; you'll need to push harder for the monthly exam. Don't get yourself kicked out of the Valiant Guard Camp."

— No problem! No problem at all! His Majesty said I wrote it well!

A surge of intense relief and joy left Cao Bianjiao lightheaded. He broke into a somewhat foolish grin and modestly replied with a few words.

But his ears were ringing so loudly he could not even make out what he himself was saying.

Zhu Youjian merely smiled, patted him on the shoulder, and moved on to the next man.

"Kong Youde…"

"Zhou Yuji…"

After talking through every one of the hundred-plus officers one by one, Zhu Youjian let out a long breath.

Later generations have a legend that Napoleon could remember the name of every soldier under his command.

Zhu Youjian strongly suspected this was a rumor, or at best a political propaganda device to win hearts.

The Valiant Guard Camp had now swollen to nearly six thousand men; even if he drilled names every day, he could never memorize that many.

But the names, native places, family backgrounds, performance records, and even the small, mundane changes in the recent lives of these hundred-plus core officers of the Valiant Guard Camp — on those, he had genuinely put in bitter effort.

Every day during inspection, he would have Gao Shiming compile the latest information for him, and then came the cycle of reciting, memorizing, and reciting again.

Fortunately, this young body had a reasonably good memory.

He had no idea whether ancient generals and commanders ever practiced this kind of cramming the way he did.

But he figured — it ought to be useful, right?

By now, the originally rigid ranks had unconsciously dispersed entirely; everyone had gathered around Zhu Youjian, forming a somewhat irregular circle.

Zhu Youjian looked at the faces before him — some excited, some reverent, some still a little constrained — thought for a moment, and simply waved a hand.

"Don't all stand there. Sit down where you are."

The men hesitated briefly, then one after another obeyed, somewhat uncertainly settling themselves cross-legged on the ground.

Zhu Youjian nodded with satisfaction. Yes, this had a bit of the flavor of sitting on the ground during later-era military training.

— Military training was one of the few pieces of direct military experience he had from his past life.

With his hands clasped behind his back, he paced slowly among the crowd, his gaze sweeping over faces young and weathered.

Suddenly, he stopped, raised a hand, and pointed.

"Liu Qicai, stand up."

The soldier whose name was called jolted as if shocked, scrambled to his feet using both hands and legs, and stood nervously with his hands at his sides.

Seeing him like this, Zhu Youjian laughed heartily and waved a hand. "Don't be afraid. We're just chatting casually."

In a gentle tone, he asked, "I recall you are from the capital — your home is right at the foot of the southern city wall. You have two children at home, one seven and one three, correct?"

The man called Liu Qicai immediately relaxed, a simple, honest smile spreading across his face. He quickly replied, "Yes, Your Majesty's memory is excellent. My oldest is seven, and the little one just turned three."

Zhu Youjian nodded and asked again, "For a family of five like yours, living in the capital, roughly how much silver does it take to get by each month?"

Liu Qicai scratched his head, counted on his fingers, then cupped his hands and answered, "Replying to Your Majesty, not counting big expenses like clothes or seeing a doctor, just for food, drink, and daily necessities, it takes at least two taels of silver a month to make do."

At these words, the officers and soldiers newly transferred from Xuanfu, Yizhou, and other places all clicked their tongues in astonishment.

They had entered the Valiant Guard Camp as soon as they arrived in the capital and had not yet gotten a feel for capital prices; this gave them quite a shock.

The officers from Liaodong, on the other hand, felt it was nothing special — that wretched place Liaodong had an extremely high cost of living too.

Zhu Youjian raised a hand and pressed it down in the air; the slight stir instantly subsided.

He looked at Liu Qicai again and continued, "Then, as things stand now, is the monthly grain ration from the Valiant Guard Camp still enough?"

At this, the smile on Liu Qicai's face grew even more genuine. He said loudly, "Enough! More than enough! I'm a File Leader now, so I get two dan and five dou of grain each month. Converted at the market price, that's a full two and a half taels of silver — enough for my whole family to eat their fill! We thank Your Majesty for your boundless grace!"

Zhu Youjian smiled faintly, but the smile gradually faded.

He fixed his eyes on Liu Qicai and asked slowly, "Then what if I docked you five dou of grain?"

The smile on Liu Qicai's face froze in an instant.

The officers sitting on the ground around them also keenly sensed the shift in atmosphere; the warm mood of a moment ago suddenly tightened.

Zhu Youjian paid no attention to their reactions, only pressing on with his question. "And if, out of the remaining two dan of grain, your Platoon Officer and your Company Commander each took another five dou every month?"

"How much would you have left? Would your wife and children still have enough to eat?"

Liu Qicai stammered, fine beads of sweat seeping from his forehead, unable to utter a single word.

Writing it in that dog-scratch handwriting of his on paper was one thing — perhaps His Majesty would not even have the patience to read it.

But to speak the abuses aloud, right to the face of authority — in the end, he did not have that much courage.

Zhu Youjian sighed softly and waved a hand. "Sit down."

He turned around to face them all, and his voice dropped low.

"I have already read every one of your answer sheets."

"I am very satisfied."

"Satisfied with this loyalty you hold toward me. Every line on that paper came from the heart — it is clear you truly regard me as your sovereign and father, to dare speak so freely and hold nothing back."

"But I am also deeply pained!"

His voice suddenly rose, echoing through the great hall.

"It pains me that the realm of our Great Ming, the armies of our Great Ming — how have they rotted to such a state!"

The officers were silent as the grave; many had even begun to feel uneasy, shifting their bodies unconsciously.

Zhu Youjian's gaze was like a blade, sweeping over the crowd once more, then settling on Cao Bianjiao.

"Cao Bianjiao, you answer."

Cao Bianjiao's heart tightened. He immediately stood and said loudly, "Your subordinate is here!"

Zhu Youjian pointed at a rough-featured officer beside him and asked, "If Kong Youde, sitting right next to you, embezzled five dou of grain from the army provisions every month, would you join him in the embezzlement?"

Kong Youde, whose name had been called, blinked unnaturally. Seeing the Emperor's gaze sweep toward him, he hurriedly forced out an honest-looking smile.

Cao Bianjiao did not hesitate for an instant. He puffed out his chest and said with absolute finality, "Your subordinate would never associate with such a man!"

Zhu Youjian nodded, seemingly very satisfied with this answer.

"Then what if — Zhu Chengye, Chen Quanmeng, Zhou Yuji beside you…"

In one breath, he named more than a dozen men sitting around Cao Bianjiao.

"…what if every last one of them was willing to embezzle those five dou of grain? What would you do?"

Cao Bianjiao hesitated.

He remembered the things he and his uncle had done back in Liaodong.

He clenched his fist, knuckles whitening from the force. He wanted to say, "This humble officer still does not covet," but the words simply would not come out.

Zhu Youjian swept his gaze around the great hall, his finger tracing past every man present.

"What if every one of the hundred-odd colleagues here all coveted those five pecks of rice?"

"Could you still hold fast to your original heart?"

His voice rose steadily:

"What if the entire Capital Camps! The entire Nine Borders! The entire realm—all coveted those five pecks of rice!"

"Who among you, gentlemen, could refrain from coveting?!"

Question after pressing question struck like hammer blow after hammer blow, slamming hard into Cao Bianjiao's heart, and into the hearts of all present.

Cao Bianjiao clenched his jaw tight, the veins on his neck bulging one by one, his fists balled so fiercely his nails nearly bit into his own flesh—yet he never uttered a single word.

Zhu Youjian looked at him, the sharpness in his eyes slowly receding, turning into a long, drawn-out sigh.

"You, sit down as well."

He looked at these men before him—some heads bowed in silence, some faces full of unease—and suddenly waved a hand.

"All of you, sit closer. Closer still. Gather round."

The officers rustled and shuffled forward. The already scattered circle now squeezed into a tight cluster, nearly shoulder to shoulder, man pressed against man.

Zhu Youjian stood among them, his voice not loud, yet reaching every man's ears with perfect clarity.

"We have read your examination papers. In every garrison of the Nine Borders, monthly grain rations vary—higher here, lower there—and the skimming varies—more here, less there. But exploitation is everywhere. No man is spared."

"We ask you: is this right?"

No one answered.

Everyone looked at him, their eyes complex. Most were hesitating.

This… we should say it's not right, shouldn't we? That is what His Majesty means, isn't it?

Zhu Youjian raised his voice a notch and asked again: "We ask you: is this right?!"

"…It's not right."

"…One supposes it's not right."

"…How could this be acceptable…"

From the crowd, at last, came a few sparse and scattered replies.

Zhu Youjian shook his head, clearly dissatisfied.

He drew a deep breath and asked in a deep voice: "Tell Us loudly: is this right?!"

This time, the voices were finally somewhat more together.

"Not right!"

Zhu Youjian still shook his head. "Too quiet. Damn it all, have you not eaten?! We ask you one more time: skimming army rations, exploiting the rank and file—is it right, or is it not right?!"

"NOT RIGHT!!!"

This time, it was a hundred fierce officers roaring in unison with every ounce of strength in their bodies!

The wave of sound surged through the great hall, shaking dust from the beams and rafters until it sifted down in flurries.

Only then did Zhu Youjian nod with satisfaction.

He pressed both hands slightly downward, and that tempestuous force instantly subsided.

"Very good. It is enough that you all feel this matter is not right."

He strode out of the circle and tossed out another question:

"Right now, some of you are File Leaders, some are Platoon Officers, and the highest among you are no more than Company Commanders. How long do you think it will take you to become a Regional Commander?"

At these words, the officers who had just moments ago been somewhat uneasy instantly burst into a hubbub of chatter.

"Regional Commander? That would take… ten years?"

"If you're quick, five years is enough!"

"Impossible. Making it to Assistant Regional Commander in a lifetime would already be impressive…"

"I seem to recall someone who did it in two years…"

Zhu Youjian did not interrupt them. He merely waited patiently until the buzz of discussion gradually died down and every gaze had once again focused on him. Only then did he slowly raise three fingers.

His voice was low and deep, yet it seemed to carry a strange, bewitching power.

"Three years."

"Three years at most. From among you, there will emerge at least five Regional Commanders, a dozen or more Assistant Regional Commanders and Mobile Corps Commanders. As for Battalion Commanders and Company Commanders—too many to count."

Inside the great hall, it fell so silent in an instant that only the sound of heavy breathing could be heard.

Every man's eyes went wide as they gazed fervently at their Emperor.

Zhu Youjian met their gazes and spoke, weighing each word: "Why?"

"Because you are the Son of Heaven's own personal troops—handpicked by Us personally, reviewed daily, and drilled by Us personally!"

"We can call out every single one of your names. We know every single one of your backgrounds. We have even stepped onto the field and competed in archery against many of you!"

At this, Zhu Youjian suddenly gave a light laugh and pointed at Sun Yingyuan:

"At first, when you competed against Us, you didn't dare give it your all."

"Then later on, that scoundrel Sun Yingyuan actually had the nerve to shoot down the arrow We had only just managed to plant dead center in the target."

A low ripple of laughter spread through the crowd, and the atmosphere eased once more—but every man's eyes burned brighter and hotter than before.

Zhu Youjian's laughter ceased, and his tone shifted again.

"And among you—is there anyone who can be enfeoffed as a marquis?"

The moment these words left his mouth, it was as if a single drop of water had fallen into a wok of seething oil!

Every man's breathing turned ragged and heavy in an instant, and their eyes blazed with a light never seen before!

Enfeoffed as a marquis!

To a military man, what glory — what an impossibly distant dream!

Yet this time, no one dared make a sound. Every man fought to master himself, only staring fixedly at their Emperor, waiting for his next words.

Zhu Youjian's gaze slowly swept across their faces, flushed crimson with agitation one by one.

Zuo Liangyu, Huang Degong…

In his memory they had been made marquises — only he had not brought an encyclopedia along and could not recall which marquis titles they had received.

Kong Youde was even more extraordinary: he had been made a king…

Except it was a king of the Manchu Qing.

Royal titles are merely bait dangled by the sovereign on his fishing line — use them when they are needed.

Even if he granted a stipend of a hundred thousand shi, so long as Liaodong could be pacified, what would that amount to?!

Zhu Youjian sighed inwardly, then shook his head.

"In truth, We do not know either."

At these words, a hint of disappointment passed through the assembly — yet they also let out a collective breath of relief unbidden. The sound was so perfectly synchronized that in the silent great hall it rang out with startling clarity.

Zhu Youjian watched their disappointed faces and suddenly smiled.

"But Our noble titles are already prepared."

"Three dukedoms, eight marquisates, thirty earldoms!"

"Tell Us — among you, who can take these seats?!"

In that instant, every man's mind detonated!

Some gaped in disbelief; some unconsciously drove a savage pinch into their own thigh — only to make the companion beside them wince and bare his teeth in pain.

Some looked left and right in a daze, as though searching for the future dukes and marquises, or as though searching for their own future rivals.

Throughout the great hall, though plainly no one spoke a word, a buzzing clamor instantly filled the air.

Zhu Youjian clapped his hands together with a crack!

The crisp report silenced every murmur in an instant.

He jabbed a finger, pointing straight at Cao Bianjiao.

"Cao Bianjiao — do you wish to be a duke?"

Cao Bianjiao shot to his feet, utterly at a loss, opened his mouth, yet could not produce a single word.

A duke?

In Liaodong, he had been nothing more than a petty Company Commander.

And here in the Valiant Guard Camp, he was merely a Platoon Officer commanding sixty men!

Never mind a dukedom — he was not even certain he could seize the Company Commander post ten days from now…

Among these hundred-odd men, crouching tigers and hidden dragons emerged in endless succession.

In the assessments these past days, hampered by poor coordination, his results had even been lingering at the very bottom!

A duke's seat was more remote to him than the moon in the sky.

Zhu Youjian observed his callow bearing, let out a hearty laugh, and waved him back to his seat.

Cao Bianjiao sat down as bidden, yet his heart was instantly flooded by a vast, aching disappointment and despondency.

Zhu Youjian then pointed at Sun Yingyuan.

"Sun Yingyuan — do you wish to be a duke?"

The iron-tower of a man rose to his feet, yet he too was oddly constrained; his usual forthright swagger had vanished entirely. Like a fidgeting monkey, he hemmed and hawed for a long moment, still not daring to answer.

Zhu Youjian furrowed his brow and said with feigned impatience, "Since you do not wish it, then let the matter rest. We shall seek another for Our dukedom."

"I do!"

Sun Yingyuan instantly panicked and bellowed at the top of his lungs.

"Your Majesty! I want it! I want it even in my dreams!"

The voice was so shrill it nearly cracked, yet not a single snicker arose.

Every man's gaze was fixed rigidly upon the supreme and sovereign Emperor.

Zhu Youjian burst into ringing laughter; the sound echoed through the great hall.

"To want — that is a good thing!"

"A soldier who does not want to be a general is no good soldier! A commander who does not want to be enfeoffed as duke or marquis is no good commander of Ours!"

His laughter ceased abruptly, and his expression hardened into solemnity.

"But We cannot bestow a dukedom upon you out of thin air!"

"Ten days from now — the first monthly assessment. Those who excel shall be appointed Company Commander!"

"Forty days from now — the second monthly assessment. Those who excel shall be appointed Battalion Commander!"

"Seventy days from now — the third monthly assessment. Those who excel shall be appointed camp commander!"

"In another one to two years, you shall be dispatched to the various garrisons of the Nine Frontiers. When that time comes, Regional Commander, Assistant Regional Commander, Mobile Corps Commander — what obstacle will those be!"

"And when that day arrives…"

Zhu Youjian smiled faintly, yet his eyes turned piercingly sharp.

"Should any among you forget this 'five dou of rice' covenant of today, forget the words We have spoken this day —"

"— then do not blame Us for disregarding old ties!"

The commanders, whose hearts had just moments ago surged with excitement at the prospect of dukedoms and marquisates, instantly felt a chill climb their spines. They stiffened as one, awed and alert.

"As for the seats of duke, marquis, and earl…"

Zhu Youjian did not continue. He turned slowly, step by step, and ascended the dais to the imperial throne once more.

Every gaze followed his figure as it moved upward.

At last, he slowly seated himself upon the dragon throne, that chair which symbolized the supreme power over all under heaven.

By now, the sky had dimmed to dusk. The last rays of the setting sun slanted in from outside the hall, but were blocked by a gilded pillar, leaving the Emperor's face shrouded in shadow, impossible to see clearly.

A moment later, they heard the Emperor's voice drift out from the shadows:

"Then bring me the heads of the Tartar barbarians in exchange."

"He who slays a thousand of the barbarian slaves shall be enfeoffed as a Count; he who slays ten thousand of the barbarian slaves shall be enfeoffed as a Marquis…"

"And he who can sever the heads of the Four Great Beile to serve as my drinking vessels — he shall naturally be enfeoffed as a Duke!"

Begging for monthly tickets!