Chapter 347: Six Months Later

Provincial Military Command Headquarters.

“Master, these memorial slips are from scholars who recently sought to become your disciples.”

Lan Linjie pointed to the pile of memorial slips covering the desk.

Amid the flood of scholars flocking to him, Li Mu showed no smile.

The boundary between civil and military was clear; unless they were poor, powerless commoners, no scholar would join a military officer’s retinue.

As a powerful marquis, his situation was slightly better—but only just.

Though he could recommend men for office, those bearing his mark faced severely limited advancement after entering service.

Civil officials would tacitly suppress their progress.

Either they’d block promotions outright, or give hollow promotions while exiling them to meaningless posts.

If it were only that, it wouldn’t be so bad.

Just getting an official post was already a blessing—what more could one demand?

Even an official in a powerless post was still an official of the Great Ming.

Low upward mobility meant only that they could never enter the Grand Secretariat or hold key posts like Minister of the Six Ministries or Censor-in-Chief.

But reaching the rank of third or fourth grade was still possible.

Even if looked down upon, their official status was still far superior to that of pure commoners.

What truly deterred people was the extreme difficulty of securing a recommendation.

One needed not only sufficient ability but also to serve loyally for over a decade to qualify.

Capable men could thrive anywhere.

Serving as an advisor to a civil official was vastly superior to serving a military officer.

If one aligned with the right patron, they could virtually receive an imperial examination pass by default—effectively guaranteed entry.

The official path through the imperial examination offered far greater career prospects than any recommendation ever could.

“Do these bastards think I have so many posts that they can just show their faces without paying?”

Li Mu couldn’t help laughing and scolding.

High-ranking officials in court could recommend talent for office, but they bore political risk, and the number of slots was strictly limited.

Many spent decades of youth and effort only to end up with nothing.

The official posts sold by the court were different.

As long as one met the Ministry of Personnel’s criteria, anyone could buy them, and the seller bore no responsibility for what happened afterward.

“My Lord, not all are trying to get in for free—some are willing to pay dearly.

But their qualifications fall short of the court’s requirements.

The time required to complete the process of becoming a monitor student is too long; they fear the post will be sold before they finish.

So they’ve brought generous gifts, hoping you’ll hold the position open a little longer.”

Hearing Lan Linjie’s explanation, Li Mu immediately saw a systemic flaw in the Ministry of Personnel’s barrier to buying office.

Ordinary people couldn’t buy office directly, but monitor students could—and monitor student status in the Great Ming could be purchased with money.

All this effort was just to extract one extra payment.

“Fine. But their price for office must be increased by thirty percent.

Full payment must be made in advance.

Only after obtaining monitor student status will they be issued their official credentials.”

Li Mu spoke without expression.

It proved that there was no shortage of people desperate to become officials.

No matter how remote or backward a region, local magnates and merchants weren’t deterred.

These men might even have their clan pooling money to buy them office.

Even the poorest places had grease to squeeze—just a few quick grabs, and the cost was recovered.

Even without corruption, an official’s status was a shield.

Especially for wealthy maritime merchants, becoming a county magistrate along the coast was like gaining a legal smuggling port.

With his thoughts clarified, Li Mu silently took out the price list and began revising it.

Remote, poor inland counties could be sold for just a few thousand taels—but coastal counties with ports needed at least one extra zero.

What he was selling wasn’t office—it was the security merchants craved most.

Frankly, the Great Ming still lacked experience in selling offices.

If the Qing team were in charge, they’d sell provisional appointments outright.

The unit price might seem low, but the sheer number of candidates made up for it.

To secure a real posting, the bribes needed often exceeded the original purchase price.

Those unwilling to spend on maneuvering would wait in line for life.

Even if one fortunately secured a real posting, the location remained uncertain.

To get a desirable posting, one had to pay extra and wait for opportunity.

In comparison, the Great Ming was far more straightforward.

Positions were clearly priced, and the assigned locations of real posts were openly disclosed.

“My Lord, rest assured. I will inform them of your terms immediately.

I’m sure they won’t refuse your generosity.”

Lan Linjie replied at once.

Merchants held low political status; any chance to change their social standing, they would never let slip.

Merchants from Guangdong and Guangxi all looked to Grand Commander Li for favor.

He didn’t even need to target them directly—just instructing subordinates to enforce laws strictly would make them suffer greatly.

Even local clans now had to tread carefully when dealing with the military.

The old social order had shattered; in the newly built grassroots power structures, military influence was everywhere.

There had been no backlash, mainly because the rebels had terrified them.

…

After the Battle of Wuchang, the situation in the southeastern provinces gradually stabilized; after a month of fierce fighting, the northern frontier troops halted at Xuzhou.

Except for the still-intense war in Sichuan, the Great Ming entered a rare period of calm.

After finishing his official duties, Li Mu returned to his pursuit of fatherhood.

More people than expected cared about his heir.

Beyond the Li clan’s pressure, the Jing family also showed intense interest.

This heir directly affected whether the political alliance between the two families could endure.

His subordinates watched eagerly, hoping he would produce an heir soon.

It wasn't that they wanted anything specific—just that this bond allowed them to continue sticking together in court in the future.

Even Emperor Yongning joined in, bestowing numerous medicinal herbs.

Whether he cared for his subordinate, wanted another lever over him, or had other motives—no one could say.

Yet Li Mu used none of the herbs, choosing instead to let nature take its course.

Time flew; before long, half a year had passed, and Guangzhou’s weather entered its scorching summer phase.

“My Lord, good news!”

“Madam is pregnant!”

Hearing the news, Li Mu ignored the maid’s brazen intrusion.

“Take me there at once!”

He couldn’t help being nervous—this was his first time becoming a father, across two lifetimes.

Jing Yaqing’s pregnancy, regardless of gender, carried immense political significance.

As long as both their bodies remained healthy, they could keep trying until a legitimate son was born.

In an era that prized many children and much fortune, a lawful wife never used contraception if her health permitted.

The more children she bore, the higher her status within the clan.

Only when legitimate sons were scarce did families produce numerous illegitimate ones.

The main reason was the low infant survival rate—no one could guarantee a child would grow to adulthood.

The best strategy was to bear many; even if one or two died young, it wasn’t a major loss.

…

Nanjingcheng.

After absorbing Chu’s legacy, Wu’s overall strength increased further.

Yet none of Wu’s high officials could feel joy.

Without Chu as a shield, they now faced the imperial army’s encirclement alone.

With autumn harvest approaching, everyone knew another major war was imminent; Nanjingcheng’s atmosphere grew heavy.

“Your Majesty, we’ve just received word: the false emperor in Beijing has flayed King Chu alive.

The execution lasted three days, with over three thousand cuts—the body…”

Yang Jingren spoke hesitantly.

As he spoke, the sorrow of “when the rabbit dies, the fox grieves” surged in his heart.

Prince Chu Wang Weijiarui died too horribly—his body was stripped to bare bone, proving just how much the scholar-officials hated him.

The court dealt brutally with Prince Chu; they likely won’t spare them either.

If the rebellion fails, everyone here will meet a terrible end.

“Brother Wei, you died so tragically!”

“I swear here before all, I will use the traitor emperor’s head to honor your spirit.”

……

Fu Haoxuan performed a display of deep brotherly affection before the entire court.

No matter past grudges, with Wei Weijiarui’s death, all was swept away.

This scene before us was half staged for Chu’s former ministers, half genuine grief.

Before the uprising, as high-ranking members of the White Lotus Sect, they had been close personally.

Even when they occasionally clashed, it was only verbal disputes.

Under the Patriarch’s mediation, it was usually settled with a single drinking session.

In the early days of the uprising, they were utterly loyal to each other.

Only after the White Lotus Holy State was established did they gradually drift apart over conflicting interests.

“Your Majesty, please control your grief!”

The ministers all urged together.

Some of Prince Chu’s former officers wept uncontrollably.

With Wei Weijiarui dead, they no longer feared the emperor suspecting them of loyalty to the old regime.

Since the emperor led the performance, the more deeply they showed their sorrow, the more they proved their loyalty and righteousness.

The psychological barrier of betraying Chu to join Wu now vanished like wind.

“Ministry of Rites, bury Prince Chu with the rites befitting a prince and marquis.”

First erect a ceremonial tomb with his robes and hat; once his body is recovered, conduct the proper burial.”

“Order the palace attendants to prepare the sacrificial offerings—I will personally mourn Brother Wei.”

Fu Haoxuan immediately ordered.

Granting honors to the dead is respecting the living.

A great battle looms; unity of heart is essential.

The newly absorbed former Chu troops must be stabilized, or future battles cannot be fought.

“Your servant obeys!”

Minister of Rites Hu Yuzhe immediately replied.

Though this traditional scholar-official had no fondness for Wei Weijiarui, a rebel leader, now that he was among the rebel army, he had to forcibly change his views.

Since the emperor had spoken, every ritual must be observed without the slightest lapse.

“Your Majesty, the traitor regime is sharpening weapons and polishing armor; after the autumn harvest, a great battle will surely erupt.”

Our preparations are still insufficient.

Once fighting begins, we may suffer heavy losses.”

Minister of War Fan Xiwen reported anxiously.

While Wu inherited Chu’s legacy, it also suffered heavy casualties.

The hundred-thousand-strong army that fought at Wuchang was shattered by imperial troops; survivors numbered barely one or two in ten.

Later, Yin Mufeng barely filled the ranks by gathering Chu’s routed soldiers and conscripting civilian laborers.

For the sake of the greater cause, Fu Haoxuan chose to pretend he saw nothing.

Deceiving oneself was acceptable.

But deceiving the enemy would bring disaster.

The absorbed Chu troops, though numerous, had little real combat strength.

Their morale had been shattered by imperial forces; even after months of rest, they had not recovered.

Leading such troops into battle to defeat imperial forces was simply too difficult.

“Minister Fan speaks truly—our preparations are indeed insufficient.”

“My ministers, do you have any brilliant strategies to defeat the enemy?”

Fu Haoxuan asked.

Unlike past battles, this one concerned Wu’s very survival—they could not afford to lose.

“Your Majesty, the imperial army is not a unified block; we can exploit their internal divisions.”

Li Mu has accumulated too many military achievements; other Yu generals may not speak of it, but they surely resent him.”

There are also corrupt civil officials in the traitor regime who envy success—we can use them too.”

Previous attempts to spread rumors failed because they were too absurd.”

Li Mu is a scion of the nobility; accusing him of conspiring with the Holy State to rebel would never be believed.”

Instead, let us lower our aim: send men to exaggerate his achievements, to praise him to his ruin.”

Great merit that intimidates the sovereign—few are not afraid of it.”

Intelligence gathered from Guangdong and Guangxi shows Li Mu’s wife has recently become pregnant.”

Once public opinion stirs, to avoid suspicion, he may choose to remain in Guangzhou.”

With this great enemy gone, our chances in the coming battle increase by at least fifty percent.”

Moreover, the discord between Liaozhen and the court can also be exploited.”

As the only frontier vassal of Great Yu, they fear most being discarded once the prey is gone.”

A small trick can make them preserve their strength during battle.”

……

Hu Yuzhe calmly presented his solution.

Having spent half a lifetime in the Great Yu bureaucracy, he knew its inner workings too well.

The measures he proposed targeted the enemy’s weaknesses precisely.

“Minister Hu’s strategy is excellent, but it can only weaken the enemy; defeating them decisively remains extremely difficult.”

To destroy Great Yu, we need more allies.”

The envoys we sent out have returned from various regions with notable results.”

Great Yu’s neighbors have all pledged to deliver a grand gift after the autumn harvest.”

Especially the Annan—they harbor the deepest resentment toward Great Yu.”

The traitor emperor once beheaded an Annan envoy over a trivial matter, enraging them further.”

They long for revenge at every moment—perfectly giving us an opportunity.”

Chancellor Xie Ruiyu said without expression.

Inviting wolves into the house is deeply unpopular.

A single misstep could trigger great chaos.

But there is no choice; even knowing it is drinking poison to quench thirst, sometimes one must drink.

Only after surviving this crisis can we consider the aftereffects.

“Hmm!”

“Both your suggestions hold great strategic value. Does anyone else have objections?”

Fu Haoxuan asked again.

Their proposals matched his own thoughts.

He had not immediately decided to implement them, mainly to avoid bearing the blame.

If he did not voice them himself, he could later clear his name.

The ministers who participated in the discussion were naturally the best scapegoats.

“Your Majesty, the situation in Sichuan is shifting—the imperial army will likely fail to hold Chengdu Prefecture.”

“If necessary, we can ally with the Eastern King and strike Huguang from two sides.”

……

(End of Chapter)