Chapter 312: Zhang Tongchang's Confirmation Assignment

The last patches of snow on the official road had long been trampled filthy by the endless columns of troops and horses, churned into a morass of mud.

But the snow within the woods was still blindingly white, starkly interwoven with the bare winter branches.

Amid the dead silence, a figure crept in furtively.

"Anyone there? You all still here? It's me, I'm back!"

Wu Sangui recognized the newcomer, and his taut shoulders suddenly relaxed. He quickly led his horse out from behind a boulder.

At his movement, the other companions hiding in the shadows also poked their heads out one by one, every face etched with alarm.

"What's the situation?" Wu Sangui asked in a lowered voice.

The companion who had been scouting wore a bitter expression and shook his head repeatedly:

"Not good, Second Master. Those scouts haven't left — if anything, there seem to be even more of them now. They're working their way into the woods bit by bit, searching very thoroughly."

An older companion beside him swallowed hard and turned to Wu Sangui:

"Second Master, maybe we should stop hiding. Before they close the net, we could cut ahead of them and head east — make a dash for the pass and get back to the fort?" "No!"

Wu Sangui didn't even pause to think, rejecting it outright.

"There's something wrong with this government army! Haven't you figured that out yet? They've probably set pickets all the way to within twenty li of the pass!"

"If we really circle around to the pass gate, it's all open ground around there — not even a patch of dense woods for cover. When the time comes, we won't have anywhere to run!"

He paused, his gaze sweeping over these playmates who ordinarily followed him in hawking and coursing, and added:

"Even in the worst case, say I could barely get away by relying on my horse's speed and stamina — how would the rest of you escape?"

The group fell utterly silent at that; no one dared to say another word.

Horses, for the nomadic tribes beyond the passes, were the tools of their trade, the means of production on which their livelihoods depended.

But for the Han people of the Great Ming, they were a genuine luxury.

These fellows, though backed by the deep-pocketed Wu family, were ultimately just the teenage companions who fooled around with Wu Sangui — they didn't even count as formal household retainers of the Wu clan.

How could the nags they were riding possibly compare to those elite cavalry mounts?

If they were spotted on open ground with no cover, they'd likely be chased to exhaustion and death.

"Then... head west?" another companion ventured. "We find a town, lie low outside it for a couple of days, and go back once the heat dies down?"

Wu Sangui was about to nod, but the image of his father's face, black as the bottom of a pot, flashed through his mind, and he shuddered involuntarily. "Absolutely not!"

"This government unit operates so meticulously. If they start cross-referencing movements and checking identities afterward, Father will know immediately that we're the ones who stirred up this hornet's nest today."

"When that happens, getting a 'bamboo-shoot stir-fried pork' beating will be the least of it. If it brings trouble on the family, that'll be a catastrophe!" East was a dead end, and west was a dead end too.

As the cold wind blew, the faces of the youths all turned pale.

"Then what in the world do we do?"

"This is all your fault! Back then, someone just glanced our way — what were you so guilty about? Why did you have to run first!"

"Bullshit! Was I the one who ran first? It was clearly Second Master who turned his horse around first!"

Hearing this, Wu Sangui felt his face burn, and he couldn't help flushing red.

The matter, truth be told, was indeed humiliating.

Banking on his boldness, he had coaxed these companions into sneaking out beyond the pass, only telling them the truth afterward — that they were out to catch a glimpse of the imperial inspector.

In the end, they never saw the inspector, but ran headlong into the army's advance scouts clearing the route.

At the time, not knowing the gravity of it, they had reined in their horses at a distance and pointed and gestured at the troops.

Some had even compared this government army to the local Liaodong border troops, spouting arrogant nonsense like "their horsemanship is far inferior to the local veterans." But who could have imagined that this government army's conduct was utterly unlike any Ming army they had ever encountered before!

Marching through interior lines under their own control, and yet they still maintained such cautious tactical discipline.

Upon spotting their suspicious group, the opposing scouts showed not the slightest negligence, immediately fanning out at a distance.

Three riders swept directly toward them in a pincer formation, their movements so crisp there wasn't a single wasted motion.

One of the riders, without a word, directly drew his bow and nocked an arrow — a shrill whistling arrow shot straight up into the sky!

The whole sequence flowed like water, carrying an undisguised, bone-chilling lethal intent.

Most of the group were just supernumerary youths who had never seen blood. Faced with such a formidable display, they panicked on the spot.

As for who actually turned their horse and fled first... that rotten account was truly impossible to settle.

For all he knew, it really might have been Wu Sangui himself who led the flight.

The more they argued, the more frantic they became, dissolving into chaos there in the snow. One of the younger ones even had a tearful quaver creeping into his voice.

"All of you, shut your mouths! Stop arguing!"

Wu Sangui barked in a fierce undertone, finally making up his mind.

"We go north, then!"

"North?" The companions were all stunned, looking at him in confusion.

Wu Sangui drew a deep breath of the frigid air and nodded emphatically. "Today is New Year's Day; the border markets will definitely be open."

"We split up into two or three groups, find a few random crossing points to slip out, circle around outside the passes, and then loop back to Yong'an Fort from there."

"When we see Father, we stick to one story: say I originally wanted to go find my cousin-in-law, but you all talked me out of it at all costs. As for today's incident, not a single word is to be mentioned!"

The "cousin-in-law" he spoke of was named Bai Bi, none other than Zu Dashou's son-in-law.

This man worked under the chieftain Gongtu of the Dodoit tribe, with his grazing territory situated somewhat west of Jinzhou.

The Wu family originally hailed from Gaoyou, and had built their fortune precisely by operating a trade network linking Jiangnan and Liaodong, only later relocating to Zhonghou Garrison.

Zu Dashou, meanwhile, had lived for generations at Ningyuan Garrison and ran a vast enterprise on Juehua Island. He also maintained connections with the Mongols, and his business operations were on a far larger scale than the Wu family's. That magnificent mansion of Zu Dashou's inside Ningyuan city was not amassed merely by siphoning payrolls and bleeding the troops — the border trade network linking sea and land behind it was the real bulk of his wealth.

Thus, the marriage alliance between the Zu and Wu families was by no means just a power match among the Liaodong military houses; it was a perfect complement of their commercial empires. The Zu family used the Wu family's channels to move goods through Jiangnan, and the Wu family relied on the Zu family's connections to pave roads among the Mongols.

These companions, following the Wu family in daily life, had also made plenty of trips beyond the passes to knock about in Mongol territory.

Hearing Wu Sangui's plan now, far from thinking a detour outside the passes was dangerous, they instead felt it was truly an excellent scheme for deceiving heaven and crossing the sea. Relieved of their burden, they all nodded in agreement, briskly swung themselves onto their horses, and, using the tree line as cover, cautiously slipped northeastward along the border. A fifteen-year-old youth, with courage greater than the heavens, daring to point and critique an army;

yet with courage smaller than a rabbit's, frightened by a few scouts into a flock of startled birds.

After all that frantic scrambling and fuss, they had at least managed to find a way to escape punishment from their elders.

(Image attached, to give everyone a rough impression: the Duoduoluo tribe is affiliated with the Chahar Mongols, and were actually the losing side in the Battle of Qingcheng two months ago in this story. But Gongtu, however, is actually one of the Chahar tribes relatively close to the Ming dynasty, because his grazing lands are nearer and there is more trade between them. This is also one of the Ming army's important sources of intelligence on the Later Jin.)

Wu Sangui, baffled and fleeing with his tail between his legs, shall be set aside for now.

At this moment, within the endless marching column stretching along the official road,

a young man of nineteen had worries of his own.

The highest-ranking member of the pay-audit team on this Liaodong expedition — the Duke of Xingguo and Secretariat intern, Zhang Tongchang — slowly withdrew his gaze from the soldiers of the Valiant Guard Camp.

He looked at the few men beside him and continued the earlier topic:

"What Bureau Director Lu said just now is quite correct; the drill manual is not the key point."

"The Army Drill Manual was compiled based on the True Record of Military Training and the New Treatise on Military Efficiency. Before leaving the capital, I compared all three books character by character, line by line."

"Most of the regulations within are actually inherited from the system of the late Marquis of Pingbo (Qi Jiguang), with no fundamental changes." "It merely adjusts the various types of military equipment and personnel organization slightly, according to the differing battlefield conditions of the Mongols, Liaodong, and so on."

"And these adjustments, in His Majesty's words, still need to be tested on a real battlefield to verify their correctness; they are not yet truly fixed regulations. From this perspective, the drill manual is a sufficient condition for successful troop training, but not a necessary one."

After two months as an intern in the Secretariat, Zhang Tongchang had gradually been molded into the Emperor's shape, spouting all sorts of new vocabulary at every turn.

This whole "sufficient and necessary" argument made Lu Shanji and Yuan Chonghuan, two men far removed from the Emperor, turn the concepts over in their minds for quite a while before they caught on.

Before they could savor it carefully, Zhang Tongchang had already followed up with an even sharper question:

"So here is the question."

"Since the method of training troops has never been a secret, and everyone knows how to train troops and how to select generals,"

"then why is it that from the outbreak of the Liaodong crisis to this day, a full eight years, after exhausting the wealth and resources of the entire realm, the dynasty has been unable to produce another Marquis of Pingbo?" "Where exactly does the fundamental reason lie?"

"Gentlemen, do you have any insight for me?"

The moment Zhang Tongchang posed this question, the previously relaxed atmosphere instantly froze. Lu Shanji and Yuan Chonghuan both felt a chill in their hearts. They were positioned in the middle-rear section of the marching column.

The entire pay-audit team of over forty members, along with more than ten carts loaded with the Ming Times and silver, were all concentrated here. The identities of this group varied, but they generally followed the special-team dispatch principle of "ensuring diverse identities" since the New Policies began. Among them were nobles or noble scions represented by Zhang Tongchang;

there were Eastern Depot and Embroidered Uniform Guard elites represented by Assistant Guard Commander Wang Shide;

mixed in were also Secretariat interns, accompanying officials from the Ministry of War and the Ministry of Revenue, and so on.

All in all, a complete hodgepodge.

Countless pairs of ears were now pricked up, listening to the goings-on over here.

And the reason Zhang Tongchang's question made Lu and Yuan so jittery had an extremely deep political background.

The Duke of Xingguo, by official rank, was of the super-grade, yet after two months in the Secretariat close to the Son of Heaven, he was still merely an intern. Secretariat interns were mostly selected by recommendation or examination, drawn from noble scions, guard station officers, or juren scholars, and the entry threshold was relatively low. But to become full-fledged members and true close ministers of the Son of Heaven, they likewise had to submit five-circle official documents that struck at current ills.

But the difference was that their document topics were generally assigned personally by the Emperor, and they could not write freely on their own.

It was truly hard to say whether this was a good thing or a bad thing.

After all, while this basically locked in the lower limit of the topic's quality, how high the upper limit could reach depended on individual ability and one's grasp of the Emperor's spirit.

Of course, what was even more important was loyalty.

How much one saw was a question of ability; how much one chose to reveal was a question of loyalty.

And the internship confirmation topic Zhang Tongchang had received from the Yongchang Emperor was precisely the question he had just asked — the reason Lu and Yuan were slightly alarmed. "Taking the Liaodong Crisis as an Example, an Exploratory Discussion of the Fundamental Reasons for the Ming Army's Decline."

The occasional idle chatter that had been heard in the column vanished completely.

Only the crunching sound of horse hooves treading on snow and the dull noise of cart wheels grinding through mud remained.

The agents of the Embroidered Uniform Guard and the Eastern Depot, along with the various officials, all appeared outwardly unconcerned, but in truth, their peripheral vision was all glancing this way. Lu Shanji drew a deep breath, his mind racing as he struggled to weigh his words.

He had never imagined that Zhang Tongchang would throw out this question before the army had even entered the pass.

But under the gaze of so many eyes, he had no choice but to answer.

"The Marquis of Pingbo's achievements back then were certainly due to his own great talent, but also to the support of the court."

Lu Shanji stroked his beard and began slowly, his voice steady. "When the source is clear, the stream runs pure; when the root is strong, the branches flourish. If the central authority is like the North Star dwelling in its place, the localities will naturally bend like grass before the wind."

"At that time, Jiangling (Zhang Juzheng) held the reins of power, the entire administration was clean, and all offices were awed and disciplined. Only thus could the Marquis of Pingbo achieve the military feats of sweeping away the Japanese pirates and overawing the northern frontier. Therefore, this humble official believes that whether the central authority of the court is clear and upright is the fundamental reason."

On the surface, Lu Shanji's words were perfectly balanced and beyond reproach, but they implicitly revealed an extremely deep cunning.

On one hand, he had subtly flattered Zhang Tongchang, giving the Duke of Xingguo full face.

But on the other hand, he had completely avoided the most fatal key issue.

Since the end of the Wanli era, the situation in Liaodong had festered, with Military Commissioners, Governors-General, and Governors rotating endlessly like a lantern show. Yang Hao, Xiong Tingbi, Yuan Yingtai, Wen Qiu, Xue Guoyong, Wang Xiangqian, Sun Chengzong, Gao Di, Wang Zhichen, Yan Mingtai...

And among them, the one with the longest tenure was none other than Lu Shanji's own old patron — Sun Chengzong.

He alone, relying on his status as the Tianqi Emperor's Imperial Tutor, had forcibly spanned the period from the second year of Tianqi to the fifth year of Tianqi amid the raging torrents of factional strife. He was the Military Commissioner responsible for Ji-Liao affairs for the longest time, and also the person who should bear the most responsibility for the question of "why a strong army could not be trained." Lu Shanji had loftily tossed the answer upward, attributing it to factional strife and court politics, while perfectly evading the crux of the matter.

Having taken on this topic, Zhang Tongchang had pored over who knows how many case files and historical records in recent months, and naturally saw through this history with perfect clarity.

Upon hearing this, he merely shook his head gently.

"Bureau Director Lu, that statement is somewhat biased."

"At the time of the Japanese pirate crisis in the southeast, my great-grandfather was merely a junior attendant in the Hanlin Academy. Where does the idea of him promoting the Marquis of Pingbo come from?"

"To be honest, the matter of the northern frontier might have some connection..."

"But the Marquis of Pingbo's ability to train troops and suppress the pirates in the southeast initially relied on the patronage of Hu Xiangmao (Hu Zongxian), and even Yan Song... What does that have to do with my great-grandfather?"

His gaze swept unobtrusively over the faces of those around him:

"From this perspective, whether the court is clear and upright or not actually does not seem so important."

"What is important is unity of purpose from top to bottom. As long as everyone, high and low, wants to accomplish this one thing, then it can certainly be done."

"In this way, even if men like Yan Song sit high in the court, those below can still get things done."

Zhang Tongchang was clearly not buying this sanctimonious official rhetoric of "all the righteous men in full array."

He corrected the flaw in Lu Shanji's words but did not delve deeper into that matter, merely pressing on with his questioning:

"If we speak of unity of purpose from top to bottom, in the affairs of the Tianqi era, the first four years belonged to the Donglin faction, and the latter four years to the Qi-Chu-Zhe faction."

"But no matter how the court situation shifted, the Liaodong matter was always regarded as the top priority by the entire dynasty. Money was given when money was needed, grain was given when grain was needed, and there was never any shortage."

"Why was it that decades ago, the Japanese pirate menace could be quelled, yet now, this Liaodong affair cannot be brought to an end?"

"Is it that in these few decades, the men of the realm have changed? Or is it that the affairs of Liaodong are different from those elsewhere?"

Lu Shanji's brows snapped together, his heart skipping a beat.

What exactly did Zhang Tongchang mean? Did this relentless, pressing line of questioning represent the Emperor's own intent?

Out of the corner of his eye, he cast an imperceptible glance at Yuan Chonghuan beside him.

Toward this man who had betrayed trust, trampled over his old superior to climb upward, Lu Shanji's heart was filled with wariness and loathing.

Taking the foundation Sun Chengzong had painstakingly built over four years, winning the Battle of Ningyuan, and then turning around to viciously attack the defeat at Liuhe in order to rise — did His Majesty even know of this case? And why, with Sun Chengzong already in command, had this man been dispatched to replace Wang Zhichen as Governor of Liaodong?

What sort of imperial statecraft lay hidden within this?

Lu Shanji hesitated for a moment.

He had been about to follow Zhang Tongchang's question, still sidestepping the crux, and expound on Liaodong's geography, finances, officers, and military readiness — that would count as an answer.

Then, by subtle influence, he could work in the achievements of Sun Chengzong's four years of governance — that would be even better.

After all, this exchange was taking place under the eyes of all; it might well end up laid before the Emperor's desk, and he could not afford to be anything less than cautious. But to his surprise, Yuan Chonghuan spoke first, his tone utterly resolute!

"The error in Liaodong's affairs lies precisely in staging a grand ritual inside a snail shell! Precisely in failing to carve out a new heaven and earth!"

"Two hundred years of our dynasty — all things are like ancient trees, withered and gnarled, riddled with rot and worm; like kindling piled beneath a fire, the hall crumbling, the pillars broken!"

"On this utterly rotten foundation, any patchwork reform is nothing but compromise, nothing but papering over the cracks!" Yuan Chonghuan's gaze flashed like lightning as he swept his eyes over the assembly, his words fierce:

"When the Marquis of Calming Waves drilled his troops back then, why did he not use the original guard-station officers and men, but instead go to recruit miners from Yiwu? Was it not precisely because he saw through this principle?"

"Without drilling troops anew, what use is any effort under the old guard-station camp system?"

"Without cleanly starting a new stove, how can one reopen heaven and earth?!"

He drew a deep breath and elevated the topic directly to the person of the reigning Son of Heaven.

"Therefore! The decay of the Liaodong affair is precisely because past actions were never thorough enough, never decisive enough, burdened by too many misgivings!"

"Now His Majesty, by the great Way of 'self-cultivation, family regulation, state governance, and world pacification,' first purges the chronic ills of Northern Zhili; then by the same principle first drills the Valiant Guard Camp, then the Liaodong demonstration camp — this is precisely conforming to that principle!"

"Only by starting a new stove, by cleanly and clearly reordering those rotten accounts from scratch, can this foul morass of decline be thoroughly broken!" The words ended, but the meaning lingered on.

These ringing words of Yuan Chonghuan's carried an equally profound political purpose.

During the near month he had lingered in the capital, he had long since keenly scented the political winds of the new reign and decisively revised some of the notions he had held before entering the capital.

That wild boast of "pacifying Liaodong in five years" — now he would absolutely never utter it again.

And the radical, wholesale transplantation of a New Deal for Ji-Liao that he had initially proposed — he now treated it as though he had never spoken of it.

His political stance now was crystal clear:

He must maintain a high degree of alignment with His Majesty's "New Deal," must deeply embrace His Majesty's whole theory of "self-cultivation, family regulation, state governance, and world pacification." Under this broad premise, he must also establish a wholly new path, distinct from Sun Chengzong's.

That path was the image of "thoroughness," "leaving no room," "the hardliner"!

Only by establishing such an image could he, in the future, when His Majesty considered who should take up the burden from Sun Chengzong's hands, seize a greater opportunity.

Yes, Sun Chengzong was too old; the Liaodong affair could never wait for a final resolution in his hands.

And who, in the end, would pluck this peerless merit of pacifying Liaodong?

He, Yuan Chonghuan, was determined to claim it!

As these deafening words fell, the reactions among those around him varied.

Lu Shanji's face was expressionless; only within his wide sleeves did he clench his fists, sneering coldly in his heart.

Yuan Jixian, the head of the accompanying pay-audit team, however, stroked his beard and smiled faintly, as if finding it rather amusing.

Wang Shide, the Assistant Guard Commander from the Embroidered Uniform Guard's Dian system, on the contrary, had eyes shining brightly, nodding his head vigorously in profound agreement.

The conduct, methods, and regulations of their Dian-system Embroidered Uniform Guard were utterly different from the old Embroidered Uniform Guard.

In a sense, was their Dian system not the very best proof of the Emperor "starting a new stove"?

Just like those colleagues purged last month for embezzling the Dian lookout runners' wages.

Had they still been within the old mold, how could such a minor offense of corruption ever have been used for a sweeping purge?

Zhang Tongchang, having heard Yuan Chonghuan's impassioned declaration, nodded slightly.

He pondered for a moment, then spoke again:

"Governor Yuan's words are indeed reasonable."

"But on closer listening, what the Governor has spoken of is 'how it should be done,' yet he still has not answered 'why no one has done it.' What I am puzzled by remains that very first question."

"The drill manuals and tactical codes have always existed; the methods of drilling and selecting troops — one could say everyone from court to countryside knows them."

"With the precedent of Qi Shaobao in the past, and the dynasty's unparalleled emphasis on Liaodong,"

"one could say that so long as one truly set one's mind to it with ruthless resolve, it seemed certain to succeed."

"But why, over these seven or eight long years, through so many Military Commissioners and Governors of astonishing brilliance, with generals and brave officers transferred from every corner of the realm more numerous than carp swimming upstream, has not a single person ever attempted to replicate this in Liaodong?"

As this question was posed, the atmosphere within the column grew heavier still.

Some began to earnestly ponder the answer to the question itself; others were still speculating on the deeper meaning behind the Emperor having Zhang Tongchang ask it. For a moment, silence fell simultaneously across this marching column.

Zhang Tongchang observed every man's expression without betraying his own, striving to divine the stances and misgivings behind them.

In a daze, the Emperor's gentle eyes flickered through his mind.

"Rengao, everyone argues their own case, always accustomed to standing upon their own position, to prettify themselves and attack others."

"The civil officials say it is a matter of the military officers fearing death."

"The military officers say it is a matter of the civil officials skimming pay and giving reckless commands."

"Or else they push it onto factional strife, onto the eunuchs, onto the collapse of finances and taxes, onto rampant corruption."

"Ask a thousand men, and you will get a thousand different answers."

"These answers cannot be called wrong, yet neither can they be called entirely right."

"But — what is the most fundamental reason?"

"Why, in the end, has the Liaodong campaign failed again and again? Why, in the end, does our dynasty decline day by day?"

"And how should we ensure that the reforms we undertake today do not sink into decay again in the future?"

"Renggao, carry this question with you, and try to find its answer."

"If you truly can find it, your achievements may perhaps surpass those of your great-grandfather..."

The cold wind howled; everyone sank into silent, deep reflection.

Yet beside them, Wang Shide, the Assistant Guard Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, had already arrived at his own answer in his heart the very instant Zhang Tongchang posed the question. To him, this question was no question at all.

Why has no Qi Shaobao appeared in eight years?

The question was simply too easy.

One — of course it was because Qi Shaobao had not yet appeared!

But now things are different.

He, Wang Shide, has arrived!

This rotten land of Liaodong, these civil officials and military officers each harboring their own schemes — all of them shall become stepping stones for him to prove his ability!

Qi Shaobao... no!

My own illustrious career as Wang Shaobao shall begin today, right here in Liaodong!

"Gentlemen, look!" The nineteen-year-old Wang Shide, the potential future Wang Shaobao, pointed into the distance from horseback.

Following the line of his riding crop, on the horizon ahead, backed by the rolling Yan Mountains to the north and cradling the vast Bohai Sea to the south, a frozen Shi River cut across like a jade belt. At this desperate choke point where mountain, sea, and river converged, a colossal, imposing pass, just like a crouching tiger, was gradually revealing its ferocious outline on the horizon.

"Yuguan — we have arrived!"