Chapter 38: Open a Military Academy! Open a Military Academy! Open a Military Academy!

(Begging for monthly tickets)

(Begging for monthly tickets)

At the Battle of the Wei River, Han Xin attacked Long Ju…

After a period of deliberation, Zhu Youjian's thinking gradually became clear.

In his view, the crux of this battle came down to four points.

First: organizational discipline.

The tactic of feigned retreat demands extremely high discipline and organizational capacity from an army.

The slightest misstep, and a feigned retreat will turn into a real rout.

Only a well-trained army that obeys orders without fail can advance and withdraw freely on a chaotic battlefield.

Take Li Su's night raid on Caizhou in the snow — it sounds utterly romantic, but behind it lay an absolutely explosive level of organizational discipline.

"A great blizzard, banners torn, horses freezing to death one after another… every man believed he would die, yet they feared Li Su, and none dared disobey."

If you asked today's Ming guard stations, or even the Liaodong elite, to carry out such a near-certain-death tactical order, they would likely have disintegrated on the spot long before.

Second: feasibility.

Could damming the upper Wei River with sandbags truly store up enough water?

Could removing the sandbags one by one, by manpower alone, instantly generate a devastating, all-sweeping impact force?

Could the choice of battlefield, the consideration of the season, or changes in the weather lead to unforeseen circumstances?

Presumably, after Han Xin settled on his plan, he must have sent men ahead to conduct thorough surveys and drills before finally selecting the Wei River as the battlefield.

Third: exploitation of victory.

Using a flood to cut off the enemy army can certainly create a localized numerical advantage, but it also means giving up the chance to annihilate the enemy completely.

If one wishes to maximize the fruits of victory, cavalry units must be deployed on the opposite bank in advance.

Only then, when the enemy collapses, can pursuit and envelopment be carried out, escalating a battle of rout into a battle of annihilation.

Fourth: contingency plans.

The art of war says: before considering victory, first consider defeat.

What if Long Ju did not take the bait?

What if the water volume was too small and failed to effectively split the enemy army?

For all these unexpected situations, there must be corresponding contingency plans.

For example: a reserve force ready to provide support, stockades and fortifications pre-built along the retreat route, agreed-upon contingency protocols with the river-crossing troops, and so on…

Zhu Youjian turned these four points over and over in his mind, and once he felt certain there were no omissions, he confidently opened the answer sheet that had been acclaimed as a "matchless masterpiece."

On his first glance at the essay, an appreciative smile involuntarily spread across Zhu Youjian's face.

What a fine piece of writing!

The Military Zhuangyuan Wen Zhi clearly possessed a deep understanding of military principles, and his logic was clear, building layer upon layer.

At the opening, Wen Zhi set forth the core thesis of "the mutual generation of the orthodox and the extraordinary."

He held that the way of using troops lay in the interplay between "emptiness and solidity" and "the orthodox and the extraordinary."

Those skilled in assessing the enemy always strike where he is empty and avoid where he is solid.

Those skilled in defeating the enemy base the extraordinary on the orthodox.

Immediately following, the essay used several classic battles — those of Han Xin, Emperor Guangwu, Zhou Yu, Li Su, and others — to deeply dissect the essence of extraordinary stratagems.

— Which is precisely: knowing the enemy and knowing oneself, and penetrating the enemy's situation.

Whether it was Han Xin's sandbag dam or Zhou Yu's fire at Red Cliffs, the root of their success lay in a precise grasp of the enemy's psychology and the overall situation, not merely in reckless gambles.

Reading up to this point, Zhu Youjian could not help but feel a slight admiration.

This ancient fellow truly had ability; his own answers had focused too much on practical execution, and lacked the elevated conceptual vision of this opening.

However, as he continued reading, the smile on his face gradually faded, and his brow furrowed along with it.

After finishing its discourse on extraordinary stratagems, the essay shifted its focus and began to grade "the extraordinary" into tiers.

Wen Zhi argued that the extraordinary stratagems of men like Han Xin and Zhou Yu ultimately relied only on precise calculation to achieve victory.

This was no more than "the extraordinary of wisdom."

A level higher than this was "the extraordinary of virtue."

He took Guo Ziyi riding alone to dismiss the Uyghurs as an example, arguing that Guo Ziyi's success was not merely the result of cunning.

It was even more because his usual conduct was marked by loyalty and righteousness, his prestige deeply winning the hearts of men; he subdued others through virtue — this was a higher form of the extraordinary.

And the highest tier of the extraordinary was "the extraordinary of the divine."

For instance, when Wang Ba was at the Hutuo River, he steadied the army's morale with the lie that the river ice had frozen solid — and the river water actually did freeze.

Wen Zhi held that this was already a matter of Heaven-man resonance, beyond human capability, approaching the divine.

Zhu Youjian's feeling at this moment was as if he had swallowed a fly.

The divine my ass!

How was this any different from those novels that lure you in with a golden three chapters and then start padding the word count?

Frowning, he read on, until at the very end of the essay, Wen Zhi's true purpose was finally revealed with the dagger drawn.

At the essay's conclusion, Wen Zhi began to expound at length on the current court situation.

He held that our Great Ming, under Heaven's sheltering blessing, was firmly resurgent, its might awing the four seas.

The various government offices and provincial authorities were linked by orderly networks, the frontier fortresses and garrison farms were strict and clear — it was already a perfectly arranged chessboard.

Under such circumstances, the enemy had no opening to exploit whatsoever, and thus there was no need to deliberately pursue so-called "extraordinary stratagems" any longer.

Zhu Youjian was speechless. Are you talking about the Jiajing reign in this timeline?

Finally, Wen Zhi laid bare his heart, declaring that the person he admired most was Guo Ziyi, and that he hoped to act as Guo Ziyi did — proceeding by "virtue," cherishing loyalty and righteousness in his heart, and rendering meritorious service to the state.

"Slap!"

Zhu Youjian had finally reached his limit. He slammed the examination paper in his hand heavily onto the imperial desk.

Zhu Youjian gave a cold laugh. What sort of military discourse was this? It was plainly nothing more than a jinshi essay with slightly weaker literary polish.

The entire piece was filled with heaven-man resonance, moral edification, and the Mandate of Heaven — sounding profoundly abstruse but in truth utterly vague and insubstantial.

His face ashen, he flipped open the second question.

In Zhu Youjian's view, the second question was far more valuable — and far harder to answer.

The war chariots and naval forces of antiquity endured for a thousand years — wherein lay their advantages?

In later ages, the designs of chariots and ships have varied — which are beneficial, and which are harmful?

Consider Li Ling at the Battle of Junji Mountain, who formed his ox-carts into a camp and was ultimately broken by the Xiongnu's armored cavalry; and Cao Cao at Red Cliffs, who chained his ships together with iron links and ultimately met with the calamity of Zhurong's fire.

Discuss whether our dynasty's two strategies — using chariot warfare to resist the barbarians, and using naval warfare to guard against the Japanese pirates — are feasible.

This was a true matter of military and state importance, pointing directly at the Ming dynasty's actual military predicament.

But to answer this question well, one absolutely needed solid, practical experience on the frontiers and coastlines. He himself certainly could not answer it.

And how, he wondered, did this Zhuangyuan intend to answer?

Zhu Youjian swiftly scanned the second answer.

As expected, this Zhuangyuan's answer was yet another bowl of stale old broth — a different vessel, the same medicine.

On the merits and drawbacks of chariot formations and naval forces, he merely skimmed the surface like a dragonfly touching the water.

Then he veered off once more into lofty declamation — "Whether a tool is sharp or dull depends on the man who wields it; whether a method is good or bad lies solely in finding the right man. Thus we know that the sage-king's response to the world is only a matter of the right time and the right man."

Zhu Youjian felt a surge of stifled anger rush straight from his chest to his head.

These grand principles, applicable anywhere and everywhere — in the end, they were nothing but excuses for his own ignorance!

He slowly raised his head. His gaze, sharp as a blade, swept across the three military instructors standing below the dais, silent as cicadas in winter.

The instant he looked at those three men, he understood!

How could such empty talk that harms the state win the unanimous praise of the Hanlin examiners?

Because the judges were those civil officials who understood nothing of military affairs and were fond of empty rhetoric!

Because the teachers were those sour pedants who had grown white-haired poring over classics, plucking phrases and picking apart passages!

They themselves did not understand military matters, did not understand the blood and fire of war.

The only thing they could appreciate was this sort of elegant, highbrow, refined and flowery essay — affecting culture and sophistication!

In name, selecting generals; in reality, selecting prose!

In name, testing military skill; in reality, testing virtue!

When the vessel does not match the label, there must be falsehood!

When the name does not accord with the substance, there must be calamity!

Selecting men like this — how is it any different from Zhao Kuo, who talked of war on paper?

Was the Great Ming truly using such standards to select the generals and commanders who would guard the nation's frontiers?

Laughable!

Lamentable!

Deplorable!

This was not selecting military talent at all — it was plainly breeding a flock of Zhao Kuos!

How exactly alike it was to the eight-legged essay selection of officials!

Use a fixed template, select a group of "clever men," and then let these clever men govern the entire nation with virtue and moral integrity.

And now, was the Ming army truly using the same standard to screen its officers?

Zhu Youjian felt a wave of absurdity.

He waved his hand wearily, signaling the three to withdraw.

The three instructors, still trembling from Zhu Youjian's earlier inexplicable fury,

acted as though they had been granted amnesty. They bowed in unison and slowly retreated out of the hall.

Inside the hall, only Zhu Youjian and Xu Yingyuan remained.

Xu Yingyuan cautiously stepped forward and said in a low voice,

"Your Majesty, there are still over three hundred File Leaders outside who possess a rough grasp of letters. How does Your Majesty wish to proceed with them?"

Only then did Zhu Youjian recall this matter.

He closed his eyes, drew a deep breath, and slowly exhaled, as if to expel all the pent-up frustration from his chest.

These rotten Confucians — he could place no hope in them.

When the military arts decline, it begins with the contempt of the literati.

This military academy, rotten to the bone — unless it was torn down and rebuilt, it seemed beyond cure.

Earlier, out of caution, he had been unwilling to act the part of that bald-headed Chiang. But now it seemed that however foolish that bald man might have been in a thousand ways, opening schools was never one of them.

When he reopened his eyes, the disappointment in them had already receded. In its place was a bone-chilling calm and resolve.

He looked at Xu Yingyuan and spoke, weighing each word:

"Go and deliver Our decree."

"In the great hall, set up three hundred desks for Us."

"We shall personally set them questions and put them to the test!"