Chapter 368: Quibbling

After leaving the Provincial Military Commander’s office, the pirates’ heads still buzzed.

Is that it? We’ve been pacified already?

It seems, apart from Xu Nuo, we got nothing.

To reappear under the sun, we must fight for it with our lives.

The government won’t spend a single coin in this process.

Any problems that arise are entirely their own responsibility, with no connection to the court.

Grand Commander Li bears no responsibility whatsoever for their actions.

“Brother Zhu, was our pacification too hasty?”

The middle-aged strongman voiced the doubt in everyone’s heart.

Though never pacified before, they’d heard stories of it.

Usually, such matters drag on for a long time, with a series of negotiations leading to an agreement.

They’d come to pay respects to the Marquis of Han River, fully prepared for a Hongmen Banquet.

They did meet him—but not at all as they’d imagined.

Li Mu simply presented the pacification terms, notified them, and ended it—giving them no chance to bargain.

The entire exchange lasted less than the burn of a stick of incense before they were dismissed.

“Master Duan, what more do you want?”

A man of the Marquis of Han River’s stature taking time to see us is already a favor.

Who among us is worthy to negotiate terms with him?

You’ve never served in the military—you don’t know how much power he holds.

Let me be frank: men like the Marquis of Han River, from the meritocratic faction, wield influence that never stays confined to one region.

With a single order, imperial troops from south to north will mobilize.

Of the Great Yu’s million soldiers, only a handful sit at the center of power.

Aside from the Emperor himself, none hold greater authority than they!”

Zhu Zhongxuan’s words, though exaggerated, were indeed true.

With the meritocratic faction regaining power, the authority of its senior figures has surged.

Besides their own loyal subordinates, other Great Yu armies must also show them deference.

Joining court factional struggles might make people hesitate.

But if it’s just about targeting a band of pirates, anyone can issue orders with eyes closed.

The gap in rank is simply too vast.

Those outside the bureaucracy have no direct sense of it.

Once pacified, it’s like a mayfly seeing the blue sky.

Unless something changes, they’ll never interact again in a lifetime.

The founding emperor executed his meritorious subjects not because he truly wanted to break the bridge after crossing, but because their military influence was too great, threatening imperial rule.

Facing the growing meritocratic faction, Emperor Yongning was deeply wary—but the Great Yu now needs these men to hold it together.

To reduce their power, he must wait until the realm is at peace, then proceed slowly.

The crude method of raising the blade outright no longer works in the middle or late stages of a dynasty.

History even has a specific term for it—self-destructing the Great Wall.

If the Emperor dares to act, the empire will collapse.

…

As soon as the pirates left, Guangdong’s officials came calling.

“Marquis, did you even consider the law when you secretly met with pirates?”

Kuang Xingxuan struck first.

As Censor-in-Inspection, he had suppressed himself too long—and finally found his chance.

Investigating local civil officials for misconduct carried enormous risk.

If you could topple someone outright, fine; if not, future coexistence in court would become a nightmare.

By contrast, targeting meritocrats offered better returns.

They weren’t in the same system—it was hard to find fault with them.

As long as you were in the right, just launch the attack.

If you angered them and got beaten, you’d earn a reputation for defying power.

“Censor Kuang, don’t rush. Sit down, let’s talk calmly.”

“Bring tea for the officials!”

Li Mu replied with a smile.

The Great Yu’s censors were a pack of self-destructive ranters.

Even the Emperor was often humiliated by them—he wouldn’t dare argue with such fools.

Win, and you lose dignity; lose, and you lose face entirely.

“Marquis, tea can wait, but this matter must be settled immediately.”

“Pirates are vicious, ruthless beasts—associating with them is no blessing for the empire!”

Kuang Xingxuan pressed on.

Compared to his initial accusation, his momentum had clearly weakened by a third after Li Mu diverted the topic.

Clearly, this Censor-in-Inspection wanted fame—but still had reservations.

“Censor Kuang, you can’t jump to conclusions based on hearsay.”

What are pirates? And what is my status?”

“Collusion? Do they even deserve the word?”

Li Mu shot back immediately.

He had conducted the pacification in secret.

The leak happening so fast was unexpected.

But it also proved, indirectly, that someone among the pirates had ties to Guangdong’s local officials—otherwise, the leak wouldn’t have spread so quickly.

Had the meeting lasted longer, they might have caught them in the act.

Though exposure wouldn’t shake his position, it would severely damage his personal reputation.

Since no one had caught him red-handed, he certainly wouldn’t admit it now.

For those in power, if you deny it, it never happened.

Besides, Li Mu wasn’t lying—he hadn’t colluded with pirates.

The pacification had already been reported to Emperor Yongning via secret memorial.

If it succeeded, he had nothing to fear from future accusations.

If it failed, it would be as if nothing had occurred.

The core purpose of this operation was to use the pirates to purge the entrenched interests of Annan.

He could have done it himself without their help.

But personally wielding the blade would stain him with too much blood, harming future rule over Annan.

“Marquis, so you never met the men who just left the Provincial Military Commander’s office?”

Seeing Kuang Xingxuan was no match, Provincial Surveillance Commissioner Wu Qiyu joined the fray.

His seemingly simple question hid sharp intent.

If Li Mu had never met the pirates, then someone in the Provincial Military Commander’s office had colluded with them.

As Provincial Surveillance Commissioner, he had the duty to investigate such matters.

Once a case was opened, the nature of the matter changed.

At best, a Daomei subordinate would be sacrificed as a scapegoat; at worst, it would become a collective political scandal of the Provincial Military Commander’s office.

“Of course I met them!”

“These men bear grudges against the King of Annan. Hearing I planned to campaign against Annan, they wished to join the war.”

“But given their unknown origins, I politely declined.”

“By the way, before leaving, they donated a sum of military funds to the Provincial Military Commander’s office.”

“Does Great Yu law forbid accepting private donations?”

Li Mu’s sophistry left the officials feeling like they’d swallowed flies.

They’d hoped to seize his weakness to gain the upper hand later.

They never imagined he’d been ready all along, waiting for them to jump.

What could they do? Li Mu was Acting Viceroy of Guangdong and Guangxi—their superior.

One phrase—“unknown origins”—dismissed the pirate issue entirely.

What exactly was discussed? Unless Li Mu spoke, they had no right to demand answers.

Merely meeting pirates was not evidence of a crime.

Even if they captured the pirate chieftains and obtained confessions, it would be useless.

The rank gap was too vast. Not even pirate confessions could touch Li Mu—nor could their own official denunciations.

With Annan’s invasion imminent and the Two Guangs on the brink, Li Mu was the only one fit to clean up the mess.

During this period, as long as it wasn’t a matter of principle, the court pretended not to see it.

The character for “official” has two mouths—whichever side holds greater authority wields greater Huayuquan .

Pirates don’t give gifts; those are their contributions to military pay.

The Provincial Military Commander’s office accepted the donations, representing the Great Ming court, not Li Mu personally.

“Marquis, please calm down!”

“Accepting donations is naturally no problem.”

“We came primarily because we received reports from merchants, fearing pirates might harm you.”

Nothing has happened so far; it seems the informants had ill intentions, aiming to stir up conflict within the bureaucracy.”

“Marquis, rest assured—we will interrogate the informants strictly and uncover the masterminds behind this!”

Realizing the situation was turning against them, An Qingfeng quickly stepped in to define the nature of the incident.

Subordinates challenging superiors is a major taboo in officialdom.

If they could prove they were in the right, it might be manageable—but if they lost even the moral high ground, it would become a major political event.

The Censor was sent to lead the charge because censors have the authority to report misconduct based on rumor and are exempt from liability.

The Provincial Surveillance Commissioner who later joined also holds supervisory authority over local officials.

Both acted within their official authority to question Li Mu, their superior, without yet escalating to political struggle.

But theoretically aside, they still lost face today.

Such incidents can only happen once.

In the future, should similar events arise, no one will dare launch such an attack again.

The defeat in the civil-military conflict was undoubtedly a major blow to Governor An Qingfeng.

Everyone’s unconditional support stemmed from their identity as civil officials, needing to declare their political stance.

But such maneuvering can only happen once; now that they realize this governor lacks the power to counterbalance the Viceroy, they must reconsider their alliances.

When the Marquis of Wuyang first served as Viceroy, the two sides clashed once before.

At that time, Guangdong had not yet been fully reclaimed; leadership positions were mostly vacant, and the region was under military rule.

As soon as the conflict began, the governor was immediately sidelined.

Only after the Marquis of Wuyang departed for the frontlines did local authority return to the governor’s office.

Unfortunately, An Qingfeng’s luck ran bad—he had just gained real power when another “mother-in-law” appeared above him.

After months of careful planning, he had barely taken his first step when he walked straight into a trap.

After today, many local officials will surely gravitate toward Li Mu, the acting Viceroy.

“Your Excellency, you’re too modest!”

“We are all serving the empire; a minor misunderstanding can be cleared up easily.”

The Annamese, with their ambitious designs, will not limit themselves to military action—they will likely stir up discord in the rear as well.”

Dozens of battles have erupted along the Guangxi frontlines; only the soldiers’ fierce determination has thwarted the enemy’s schemes.”

The more critical the moment, the more cautious we must be.”

Before long, I shall depart for the frontlines to oversee military affairs; the rear must rely on all of you.”

“In the days ahead, I ask you all to keep your eyes open—do not let Annamese spies exploit any opportunity!”

Li Mu warned, his expression unchanged.

Blaming the Annamese served both as a face-saving gesture for everyone and as an implicit warning.

Who is an Annamese spy? That is not for the Annamese to decide—it is for Li Mu, the acting Viceroy.

In future cooperation, whoever refuses to cooperate is an Annamese spy.

Evidence will naturally emerge after we crush the Annamese state.

Though they knew it was a threat, they had no choice but to accept this face-saving excuse.

Today’s affair was handled far too crudely.

Trying to control a high-ranking frontier official with a band of pirates was absurdly childish.

But there was no other way—Li Mu was simply too clean.

He was either inside the office or at home.

Even when he occasionally inspected military camps, he stayed within the main encampment.

Finding any leverage against him was extremely difficult.

So when a single vulnerability was discovered, they had to seize it at all costs.

“We humbly accept the Marquis’s instruction!”

Everyone responded in unison.

No matter what they truly thought, they had no choice but to bow their heads now.

Some clever individuals had already sensed something was off.

Today’s incident felt like a deliberately exposed flaw, meant to lure them in.

Li Mu’s strength came from military power, deeply embedded in every corner of Guangdong.

Beyond the visible army, clerks in every level of government were mostly retired soldiers.

These men seemed insignificant, yet held real authority.

Once a conflict arose, their orders would likely never leave the office gates.

Once they saw the situation clearly, they became even more reluctant to act.

The civil-military conflict, at its core, was still a struggle over interests.

Collective interests are not the same as individual interests.

The smarter one is, the more one knows how to plan for oneself.

If you can’t beat them, join them—if military power dominates this region, then join the military side.

If one is later transferred elsewhere, returning to the civil faction will always be possible.

In officialdom, there are only eternal interests, never eternal alliances.

…

The capital.

Amid a series of good news, Emperor Yongning finally had a good New Year.

But the good times didn’t last long—right after the new year, the situation shifted.

After being struck by border troops, the Guanzhong rebels, unable to bear the pressure, broke out of their encirclement and entered Shanxi.

Cross-provincial military movements required imperial approval; the Shaanxi Jiaofei army halted at the border.

This move severely burdened Shanxi’s officials.

The two provinces descended into bickering: Shanxi officials impeached Shaanxi’s Provincial Governor for dereliction of duty, accusing Shaanxi of deliberately driving rebels into Shanxi.

Shaanxi officials fired back, insisting they had notified Shanxi in advance to intercept the rebels.

They claimed Shanxi’s officials were derelict for failing to mobilize troops in time, allowing the rebels to break out and trigger the ensuing disaster.

The dispute escalated all the way to Emperor Yongning’s court; both sides had their arguments, and truth had become a tangled mess.

“My ministers, what do you make of the conflict between Shaanxi and Shanxi?”

Emperor Yongning asked, exasperated.

With the case brought to him, he could not pretend not to see it.

If accountability was pursued, one province’s officials would inevitably face a massive purge.

Having suffered such losses before, Emperor Yongning had grown cautious in personnel appointments.

(End of Chapter)