Chapter 73: Ma Guocheng: Marquis of Linchuan, I Have to Be at Work at Eight

The gate guards, upon hearing Zhu Que say that the new Military Governor had arrived, didn't even bother to check, their faces changed, and they immediately cleared the road.

Jia Jing frowned, feeling in his heart the real laxity of discipline in Bashang Daying.

Leaving the camp gate open with only one guard was bad enough, but now they didn't even bother to inspect, just letting people in at will.

If we were enemy spies, this camp would collapse at the first touch.

As Jia Jing and the others advanced into the camp, they saw rows of earthen-walled houses, their mottled walls riddled with holes of various sizes.

The wooden window lattices were mostly broken, and there was hardly any window paper, making one doubt whether such barracks could keep out the cold or be lived in at all.

It was already mid-morning, yet many barracks still had their gates tightly shut, showing no signs of drills or training.

Though called a camp, there was hardly any military air to be seen, and even people were scarce.

The only indication that this was Bashang Daying was the Han Dynasty flag fluttering on the camp drill ground.

"Is this Bashang Daying, one of the two elite forces guarding Shenjing for the Da Han Empire? No organization, no discipline—how could such troops win battles?"

Jia Jing looked at the lifeless, spiritless camp, his brows furrowed and face grim, knowing that without a heavy-handed overhaul it would not do.

"My lord, the sixty thousand on the rolls are just paper strength; a portion of those slots are filled by the Jingnan Wuxun's household servants, who normally don't come to camp, only showing up at payday to collect stipends or when they have military merit to claim credit." Jia Jing asked in a low voice.

"My lord, the sixty thousand on the rolls are just paper strength; a portion of those slots are filled by the Jingnan Wuxun's household servants, who normally don't come to camp, only showing up at payday to collect stipends or when they have military merit to claim credit." Zhu Que replied with clasped hands.

"Moreover, some soldiers are conscripted to work for the noble mansions of Shenjing City!" Zhu Que replied with clasped hands.

The so-called conscription is a bad practice in the army.

Put simply, some nobles and powerful figures would transfer soldiers to their own estates to build gardens, repair mansions, or do other labor.

This is the same principle as local officials and gentry annexing the land of guard-post military households.

After all, Bashang Daying is stationed near Shenjing, with no combat duties in peacetime, left idle; the nobles of Shenjing City also feel it's a waste of resources, so they might as well put them to work on their own chores.

"Conscription" and "drawing empty pay" have long been traditions among the military nobles of Shenjing City.

In short, nobles, gentry, and officials simply want to squeeze the lower-ranking soldiers dry.

They deduct your pay, seize your land, and even make you do hard labor without compensation.

This is the current state of the lower-ranking soldiers of the Han Dynasty.

Jia Jing had thought that, although the Han Dynasty had been founded only a little over a century ago, Bashang Daying would still retain some combat ability, but now it seems even defending the city would be difficult with them.

Such soldiers, untrained, undisciplined, and without pay, where could any morale or fighting spirit come from?

Without a thorough overhaul, it's absolutely impossible; Jia Jing even thought of simply disbanding the whole army and raising a new one, which might save trouble.

At this very moment, in the main commander's quarters at the center of Bashang Daying, the Marquis of Linchuan and the Marquis of Zhongqin each held a flushed-faced girl in their arms as they drank.

This quarters differed from the other dilapidated barracks inside the camp; its interior was lavishly decorated, with precious gold and silver vessels reflecting brilliant light in the firelight.

The Marquis of Linchuan, in his forties, had hair half-turned gray, a gaunt face, yet a large belly, and a shallow scar on his right cheek that made him look somewhat fierce.

The girl in his arms looked a little frightened, with tears glistening in her eyes.

At that moment, a middle-aged officer in uniform stood below in the hall, frowning as he looked at the Marquis of Linchuan and the Marquis of Zhongqin and said:

"My lord, what do you summon this subordinate for?"

The Marquis of Zhongqin laughed and gave the order:

"Ma Guocheng, the Duke Zhao's household recently wants to build a new garden; take your men to help out!"

"I, your lord, offer a few words of advice: you came all the way from the Southwest with great difficulty to reach Shenjing; cherish this hard-won opportunity."

"Duke Zhao once served as Right Deputy Governor of the Five Military Governor's Office, high-ranking and powerful; although he has now resigned his post, he still enjoys the deep trust of the Retired Emperor, has wide connections in the military, and if you could gain his favor, it would be better than winning many battles—think it over yourself."

Beside him, the Marquis of Linchuan took a sip from his wine cup and then continued:

"You are someone who earned merit in the Southwest, recommended and promoted by the Duke of Ying; we, your lord and the Marquis of Zhongqin, see you as one of our own, which is why we gave you this chance—don't waste it!"

"I hear you've been complaining about the camp's administration; don't think that because Duke Cheng is absent we can't deal with you—Bashang Daying won't tolerate lawless people!"

Ma Guocheng felt his heart turn cold as he listened to their good-cop/bad-cop routine; he knew full well they were joining forces to pressure him.

The Jingnan lineage, as military nobles of Shenjing, long untested in battle, have forgotten most of military law and discipline, yet have learned plenty of court intrigue.

The two of them, instead of properly drilling troops in the camp, spend all day drinking and carousing, and now even openly consorting with prostitutes—where is any semblance of military nobility?

It's truly shameful to be associated with such people!

And now they want me to go build a garden for the Duke Zhao—this is utterly unreasonable!

I am a commander who leads troops, not a construction worker!

Marquis of Linchuan, I have to be at work early eight, the pay is delayed, and all you do is spout nonsense!

Ma Guocheng cursed silently, unable to hold back his temper, and retorted bluntly:

"I, as a colonel appointed by the court, know only how to lead troops in battle, not how to build gardens—my lord, please seek someone else!"

"As for punishing this subordinate, wait until you two become Military Governors before speaking—right now you likely lack the qualification!"

Ma Guocheng was by nature not one to swallow his anger; if he were still in the Southwest, he would have already erupted in curses.

He is simply a warrior who risks his life on the battlefield—what does he have to fear?

You two are merely deputy Military Governors—don't get too full of yourselves!

"Impudent!" the Marquis of Linchuan shouted in anger, slamming the table, his eyes flashing with a fierce light.

The Marquis of Zhongqin grabbed his arm, waved a hand, and said:

"I was just offering a few pointers—listen if you want, ignore if you don't. But I'll say the unpleasant part first."

The Marquis of Zhongqin's eyes flashed with a chill: "The waters of Shenjing run far deeper than those of the Southwest; many a colonel has lost his life here."

Ma Guocheng bowed with clasped hands, expressionless.

"My lord, if there's nothing else, this subordinate will take his leave."

The Marquis of Zhongqin waved his hand, unwilling to spare Ma Guocheng another glance, and said coldly:

"Go!"