Chapter 95: There Are No Eternal Enemies

“You’re all pretty impressive!”

“A plague broke out in the camp—such a critical matter, and you didn’t report it immediately?”

“Do you think promotion is imminent, so your current position no longer matters, and you might as well shirk all responsibility?”

“It seems this Marquis of Wu is truly without weight.”

“Fine, you’ve all grown wings—now I’ll grant your wish. If you don’t want to stay, get out!”

“The Five Cities Military Commission has plenty of people eager for office—it never lacks aspirants.”

The Five City Military Command might be short on everything, but never short on people eager to become officials.

Facing the Marquis of Wu’s relentless tirade, everyone lowered their heads.

Having caused such a massive mess, a few scoldings were well-deserved.

They couldn’t even find a decent excuse to defend themselves.

“Commander, please calm down!

The disaster has already occurred—the priority now is organizing epidemic control and containing its spread beyond the camp.”

Under the desperate glances of his colleagues, Li Mu stepped forward, gritting his teeth to plead.

He felt deeply frustrated—he bore no responsibility at all, yet got scolded along with them, and now had to help put out the fire.

Once the plague broke out, it would inevitably kill large numbers of prisoners of war.

Those who understand the situation know that major wars bring major epidemics.

The fear is that some unscrupulous bastards will seize on this and heap false accusations upon you.

Verbal slander won’t kill anyone, but it’s deeply irritating.

Verbal slander cannot kill, but it is deeply irritating.

After a cold snarl, the Marquis of Wu snapped.

“I’ll give you one more chance to redeem yourselves. If you fail to contain the spread of the plague, you know the consequences.

Perhaps I can’t decide where you’re promoted to, but I have the power to ensure you never rise at all.

The Liaodong front is short on men—the Emperor has long hoped court officials would recommend capable talent.

If anyone fancies himself brilliant, I won’t mind helping him along!”

It was clear the Marquis of Wu was truly furious—he’d even voiced threats outright.

The scene was awkward, but the effect was undeniable: it instantly crushed everyone’s passive attitude.

Being sent to the Liaodong front meant certain death.

Even Li Mu, who had little to do with the matter, was startled by the Marquis’s overreaction.

Especially hearing the words “brilliant talent,” Li Mu felt they were aimed squarely at him.

He didn’t know whether his colleagues had been scheming, but he himself had done nothing.

Yet such gut feelings weren’t always accurate—he couldn’t just assume the accusation was meant for him.

“Commander, rest assured—we will give it our all!”

The officers chorused in unison.

In the capital, they dared ignore the Marquis of Wu because they had no vulnerabilities to be exploited.

Now, their entire futures hung in the balance—no one dared defy him.

“Since you have this resolve, get to work immediately!”

The Marquis of Wu waved them off irritably.

As Li Mu prepared to leave with the others, the Marquis’s gaze halted him.

“Marquis, why have you ordered me to stay behind?”

Li Mu asked nervously.

His superior was in a foul mood, and being left behind without explanation left him utterly uncertain.

“After you discovered the plague, your camp began relocating—why didn’t you report it immediately?”

Facing the Marquis’s question, Li Mu suddenly understood the issue.

Under the commander’s delegated authority, minor camp relocations weren’t a big deal.

The real mistake was that when he moved the camp, he hadn’t notified the commander to move with him.

Plague shows no favoritism—it strikes rich and poor alike; anyone infected faces death’s door.

Choosing to relocate was purely instinctive—to get as far from the plague as possible.

He never imagined such a small matter would draw his superior’s attention.

“Marquis, could it be that the official report I sent hasn’t reached you yet?”

Li Mu lowered his voice in reply.

Fortunately, he was naturally cautious—he’d dispatched a formal report when ordering the relocation.

Otherwise, today’s situation would’ve been impossible to explain away.

“Foolish!”

“How could you handle something this critical with a written report? Don’t you know that speed is paramount in warfare?”

The Marquis of Wu scolded sharply.

Having confirmed he wasn’t betrayed by his subordinates, his anger had largely subsided.

There was a world of difference between having notified him and not having notified him at all.

No commander could tolerate a subordinate who, faced with trouble, simply abandoned him.

“Marquis, you’re right—I’ve learned my lesson!”

Li Mu promptly chose to submit.

Defying one’s superior was never the act of a wise man.

“Enough. I’ll overlook this incident.”

“Draft a military memorial regarding Yangzhou Prefecture and a post-war resolution plan.”

The Marquis’s words left Li Mu momentarily stunned.

Such high-level documents weren’t within the purview of a mere Battalion Commander like him.

Especially since he was currently a guest force officer—Yangzhou’s post-war affairs had nothing to do with him.

Either the Marquis had a sudden whim, or this was tied to his personnel assignment and meant as a test.

A whim was unlikely—it made no sense.

“Marquis, might I have the chance to remain stationed in Yangzhou?”

Li Mu asked nervously.

As one of the empire’s ten great prefectures, even war-torn Yangzhou was a prized posting.

At its peak, any county under Yangzhou Prefecture outshone many remote prefectures.

Serving in such a highly developed region was far superior to postings in inland prefectures.

Even if assigned to a lesser post, the economic prosperity made wealth accumulation easy.

In the capital, Li Mu dared not act boldly—too many powerful nobles, and one misstep invited disaster.

In Yangzhou, however, he himself was part of the elite.

The seven great families of the Two Huai regions had been uprooted; countless local gentry had been massacred by rebels, leaving vast swathes of interests in vacuum.

With his connections to Yangzhou’s native gentry and his own background, if he could secure a posting here, he’d surely claim his share.

When he met his uncle earlier, he’d already expressed his desire to stay in Yangzhou.

His ideal position was Commander of the Yangzhou Garrison.

Though its upward potential was limited, the position was immensely profitable.

After the war, all military lands previously seized had been returned, with interest.

If he assumed command, Li Mu wouldn’t hesitate to annex nearby unclaimed lands around the garrison farms.

Dozens of thousands of acres of prime farmland could easily support a fully manned garrison.

Combined with its geographic advantages and some small-scale trade, life would be blissful.

But the odds of success were low—he wasn’t the only one eyeing this prize.

Snatching it from among numerous noble heirs was no simple task.

Even with the Hou Family’s influence, it would demand a heavy price.

A nephew simply wasn’t enough—only a son might suffice.

He’d also tried courting this superior.

Unfortunately, the Marquis of Wu was a seasoned bureaucrat—he’d only promised to recommend him to court.

He gave no concrete assurances about the specific post, nor whether he’d remain in Yangzhou.

“Why ask so much? Just write it.”

“Where you serve is decided by the court.”

“A general should…”

Li Mu ignored the rest of the Marquis’s words—his mind was fixed on staying in Yangzhou Prefecture.

“Thank you, Marquis, for your guidance!

Should you ever need anything, I will give it my all!”

Li Mu immediately pledged.

Li Mu immediately assured him.

Compared to directly giving gifts, he felt it was more practical to promise his superior a pie in the sky.

His political instincts told him that, given the power of Marquis Wuyang, he would likely secure a share of the Two Huai salt trade.

Since there was profit involved, someone needed to watch over it, lest others try to steal it.

The maternal relatives of Emperor Tianyuan had shallow roots; Marquis Wuyang’s branch rose to prominence only after the emperor’s ascension and had few allies in court.

Subordinates like Li Mu, who had followed him through southern campaigns and northern expeditions, were barely trustworthy—aside from having served him for too short a time.

Someone needed to be assigned to oversee family assets, and Li Mu, with his adaptability, was an excellent choice.

If Marquis Wuyang was willing to exert himself, securing the position of Garrison Commander of Yangzhou was almost certain.

Even if Yangzhou was fiercely contested, Li Mu would accept a posting to Huai’an Prefecture as a fallback.

At the very least, a posting to a neighboring prefecture would be a decent option.

None of the prefectures in Jiangnan were poor.

“Hmm, go prepare first.”

Marquis Wuyang waved his hand expressionlessly.

Since he hadn’t been outright refused, Li Mu knew half the matter was settled—the other half depended on who his rivals were.

With the minor incident over, epidemic prevention instantly became the army’s primary mission.

After Li Mu moved his camp, Marquis Wuyang also relocated his command post, distancing himself entirely from Taizhou City.

The other four battalions deeply afflicted by the plague suffered terribly—everywhere in their camps were sick soldiers, far too many to treat.

Even though Marquis Wuyang repeatedly sent official documents to Nanjing’s Six Ministries requesting physicians and medicine, he could not resolve the shortage of medical resources.

Treatment progressed slowly, but epidemic prevention was carried out well.

There was nothing for Li Mu to do—what little he knew wasn’t a secret at all.

The ancestral experience in preventing epidemics stretched back a thousand years and had become relatively refined by the Great Ming era.

After conversing with several renowned physicians, Li Mu was astonished to discover they understood plague far more deeply than he’d imagined.

According to them, plague was caused by “malevolent qi,” which arose from specific natural conditions.

Since plague often occurred after wars and major disasters, they believed “malevolent qi” was linked to decaying corpses.

Their proposed preventive measures included burning the bodies of patients and isolating the sick.

Not only had they scattered quicklime throughout the camp, but after contact with patients, they disinfected with high-proof alcohol.

Water for daily drinking and bathing, at the physicians’ strong insistence, was all boiled.

Even clothing changed and washed was required to be boiled in hot water.

After all these procedures, Li Mu began to suspect he’d encountered a time-traveler.

After interacting with multiple renowned physicians and realizing they treated these measures as routine, Li Mu confirmed this was the standard level of epidemic prevention in the Great Ming.

Whether an epidemic could be contained never hinged on technique—it hinged on execution.

In a military camp, a powerful institution, few questioned why—regardless of whether they accepted it.

A single order from the commander was enough to make subordinates obey without hesitation.

Prisoners in the POW camp had no right to refuse.

In other regions, this wouldn’t work—the local government’s enforcement capacity could never reach such heights.

In an era when imperial authority did not extend below the county level, if local clans refused to comply, the yamen was often powerless.

After a month of effort, Taizhou—the first place to detect the plague—became the first to bring it under control.

In contrast, Yangzhou, Huai’an, and Nantongzhou, where the plague was discovered later, became the worst-hit areas.

Suddenly, throughout the Two Huai region, mention of the plague sent everyone into panic.

Just as the Five City Military Command was gradually restoring order, an official document shattered the calm.

“My Lord, why would Senior Minister Xu want to invite us into Yangzhou City?”

Looking at the document in his hand, Li Mu’s first reaction was disbelief.

Though it’s said a chancellor’s belly can hold a boat, that’s just a story—applying it to officialdom would likely end in utter ruin.

Li Mu had personally witnessed the conflict between Senior Minister Xu and Marquis Wuyang; the two would never reconcile easily.

“What’s so strange? The situation in Yangzhou City right now isn’t good at all.

The plague has spread throughout the Two Huai region, yet we soldiers have contained it.

As a current senior minister, how can he allow plague to rage unchecked in his jurisdiction? What will the empire think?

He can’t admit his ministerial competence is worse than ours—less capable than mere soldiers!”

Marquis Wuyang chuckled.

Clearly, he was in high spirits.

Getting a current senior minister to bow first was a matter of great prestige.

“My Lord, should we send troops then?”

Li Mu asked, concerned.

Because of the hidden traps Marquis Wuyang had laid, Senior Minister Xu’s control over Yangzhou had remained purely superficial.

He was estranged from local gentry, and even the yamen soldiers largely paid lip service while disobeying in practice.

To put it bluntly, even if the Five City Military Command was a hundred li away, Marquis Wuyang’s influence over Yangzhou surpassed Senior Minister Xu’s.

This influence was earned through bloodshed, unrelated to official rank.

Everyone in Yangzhou knew: offend Marquis Wuyang, and he could send troops to exterminate your entire family.

Even though Marquis Wuyang had never actually done such a thing, everyone believed he could—and that was as good as having done it.

Even after the Ministry of Personnel appointed officials to fill vacant posts, this influence couldn’t be easily diminished in the short term.

A senior minister with weak control over his subordinates could never achieve high execution.

To escape this predicament, the first step was to reconcile with Marquis Wuyang.

Otherwise, as long as the two powerful men continued their struggle, no one beneath them would dare fully serve Senior Minister Xu.

“Of course we’re going!

There are things you haven’t yet encountered. When you rise to high office in the future, you’ll understand there are no eternal enemies in officialdom.

The other battalion commanders have duties to attend to—this time, you’ll accompany me to Yangzhou.”

Marquis Wuyang’s reply left Li Mu speechless.

Nonsense about eternal enemies—it simply meant both sides had a shared interest and needed a temporary alliance.

The emperor wanted to see maternal relatives and the civil official bloc oppose each other.

A one-time collaboration was acceptable; if they truly became a political alliance, the emperor wouldn’t care whether he was an imperial uncle—he’d turn on him instantly.

Throughout history, countless maternal relatives fell because they misjudged their own position and triggered political disasters.

With so many precedents, the clever ones afterward learned their lesson.

They knew what they could do—and what they couldn’t.

Had Marquis Wuyang not understood all this, he wouldn’t have persisted in tormenting Senior Minister Xu over petty grievances.

(End of Chapter)