Chapter 174: Money Can Make the Ghosts Turn the Millstone

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As the fifth month arrived, the weather turned scorching hot.

Liu Chengzong gazed out at the silent mountains of northern Shaanxi — the entire region lay shrouded in an eerie stillness.

After Ai Mu's forces were annihilated, northern Shaanxi should not have been this quiet.

Guanzhong sent no troops northward to suppress bandits, and Yulin Garrison to the north showed not the slightest reaction either.

Yulin did fight a few skirmishes with the Mongols who had suffered last year's white disaster, and in Yanchuan one occasionally encountered Mongol commoners fleeing south.

Whether Han or Mongol, leaving one's home to seek refuge is always a sorrowful affair.

Yet crossing the border wall from Mongolia, braving near-certain death to flee into northern Shaanxi for refuge — the act itself was absurd.

Last month, someone in Lion Camp even proposed that Liu Shizi lead them out beyond the frontier to seize territory from the Chahar Khundulen.

But aside from that, it was as if Lion Camp had suddenly been forgotten by the world.

Even the silver that was supposed to be transported through Yan'an Prefecture from the south had gone silent.

Liu Chengzong had been drilling his troops and preparing for battle the whole time, ready at any moment to deal with Du Wenhuan — and then Commander-in-Chief Du simply went quiet, leaving him so frustrated he felt ill.

He was sorely tempted to write Du Wenhuan a letter.

The six sentries of combat and support troops stationed at Yanchuan drilled without pause, while the transport sentry under Chengzu shuttled back and forth between Yanchuan and Apricot Creek, hauling supplies and relaying intelligence.

Chengzu himself, of course, was not doing that — he was busy taking a census of the Yanchuan populace, running off into the ravines all day long.

Liu Chengzong, meanwhile, was occupied with the matter of armor for the support troops.

In truth, it was not just the support troops — the combat troops' armor was also a problem, now that summer had arrived.

After discussion throughout the entire camp, Lion Camp's combat and support troops ultimately decided to send the upper-body padded jackets of their soldier's uniforms in batches to Apricot Creek for alterations.

The soldier's uniform issue was a real headache. In ancient times, when large-scale garrison armies existed, summer also meant the busy farming season, and government troops very likely would not take the field.

But in times like these, summer meant government troops would launch surprise attacks against them.

And Lion Camp, with no rear area, could be raided by enemy forces at any moment — they needed their mounts and mules never to be parted from their armor, and their men never to be parted from their mounts and mules.

On one hand, circumstances did not permit them to store their winter clothing somewhere and retrieve it when winter came; on the other hand, they genuinely lacked enough material to make two sets of armored clothing for summer and winter.

In fact, only by experiencing a full year of winter and summer could Lion Camp figure out the soldier's uniform that truly suited them.

So they decided to remove the sleeves, turning them into sleeveless padded jackets, and then take additional cotton and cotton cloth to fashion padded shoulder-guards covering the chest, shoulders, and upper back, built upon the two sleeves.

The support troops' armor consisted of neat armor plates sewn onto the chest and back of the sleeveless padded jacket — with both plates and inner lining, at a weight of fifteen jin, it achieved fairly decent protection.

Combat troops could choose to wear iron arm-guards over their shoulder-guards.

Liu Chengzong spent two days having some combat and support troops test it, and in the end discovered that when it came to heat tolerance, not only were the frontier soldiers highly capable, but many among the support troops were also quite outstanding.

It truly varied from person to person.

He himself, for instance — having trained for this in preparation for the military examinations and soldiering — was considerably better than the average combat soldier.

Another example was Soaring Monkey, who had been so poor for so many years that he wore a tattered padded jacket through all four seasons, and thus had a very strong tolerance for both cold and heat.

Poverty was a form of training too — those who could not endure heat or cold either died of heatstroke or froze to death.

But summer was fair: if they were hot, so were the government troops.

And in northern Shaanxi, a land of a thousand gullies and ten thousand ravines, where large armies could not deploy and barren, treeless ridges lacked vegetation, the focus of summer combat was almost predetermined: controlling the battlefield.

Liu Chengzong was mulling over a plan to use the summer to torment Du Wenhuan.

Until the latest batch of field reports and court gazettes was delivered by He Yong.

The field reports said that the Ming army had retaken the four cities of Yongping.

Had the court gazette not later mentioned Yang Yanchang, stating that he was rewarded twenty taels of silver for his merit in recruiting troops and following the campaign, Liu Chengzong would never have noticed the Battle of Luanzhou at all.

Because the account of that battle in the reports was very brief, merely stating that Shanxi Commander-in-Chief Ma Shilong, Jinzhou Commander-in-Chief Zu Dashou, Shandong Commander-in-Chief Yang Shaoji, and others led their troops in besieging Luanzhou.

The government forces annihilated the Eastern reinforcements sent from Yongping Prefecture, then bombarded Luanzhou with red-barbarian cannons, utterly destroying the gate towers.

The defending commander Namutai fought hard but could not hold out, broke through the encirclement under cover of night and fled back to Yongping, harried and intercepted the whole way by Ma Shilong.

As for exactly how the bombardment was carried out, Liu Chengzong had no idea.

Nor would he have any way of finding out anytime soon. A Han assistant regional commander born in Shenyang, named Huang Long, had executed a seventeenth-century infantry-artillery coordinated assault beneath the walls of Luanzhou.

Yang Yanchang had taken part in that final battle to intercept Namutai, claiming two heads.

Liu Chengzong was deeply gratified — he felt the Commander had not been kept for nothing; the man could even fight the Eastern Brigands now!

By the end of the fifth month, Chengzu had finally walked the entirety of Yanchuan County, registering thirty-three villages.

Chengzu was a deft hand at this sort of work. After initially registering only three villages, he had connected with the clerks of the Yanchuan county office and directly obtained the county's Yellow Registers from last year's census, bringing them right into Liu Shizi's camp.

The Yellow Registers were a wondrous thing — by law, a population census was to be conducted once a year, with a major overhaul every ten years.

But given last year's circumstances, Yanchuan County was probably the only place that could still update its Yellow Registers.

In Fushi County, after the spring of last year, the runners and clerks dared not step outside the city gates.

In Ansai County, stepping outside the gates was pointless anyway — the four suburban wards beyond the walls were already deserted.

The daily work of the officials and clerks in Yanchang County consisted of climbing the city wall to see which chieftain was passing through this time.

Further north, it was simply a paradise for every kind of roving bandit and horse thief.

Only Yanchuan, blessed by Heaven with a rainfall last year, saw its scattered commoners return home to plant their fields — and that was what gave the petty officials a chance to update the Yellow Registers.

In the great register of ten years prior, Yanchuan County had 1,315 households with 21,217 individuals, averaging sixteen people per household.

The result of last year's Yellow Register revision showed Yanchuan County with 946 households remaining, 9,081 individuals, averaging nine people per household.

Liu Chengzong had thought that was already excessive — he never imagined the actual situation was even worse.

Because of the frost in early spring, the rout of Wang Zuogua and Huntian King, and the mass exodus of roving bandits into Shanxi, many people had their livelihoods destroyed or fled in panic, forced to begin migrating yet again.

In the end, within the borders of Yanchuan County, Chengzu tallied thirty-three gathering points of commoners and seven bands of refugees, totaling 1,675 households with 7,537 individuals.

Chengzu said, "You don't realize it until you look — a careful count shows fathers, sons, and brothers scattered, all just to have one more hope of survival. Each household averages only four and a half people."

"It really is just as you said, Brother — there are no upper-register households left here."

By "upper households," Chengzu meant the extremely wealthy families.

Among all the provinces under heaven, northern Shaanxi likely had the lowest threshold for an upper household — on this land, a family with a thousand taels could be called upper.

A thousand taels sounds like a lot on its own, but in northern Shaanxi's circumstances, in normal times every household had a dozen or even over twenty people.

Over twenty people sharing a thousand taels in wealth — averaged out per person, it really just meant owning an ox, a few rooms, and some farmland.

Chengzu spoke with a face full of sorrow, but Liu Chengzong suddenly laughed.

He turned and pointed at the gazette by the bedside. "Do you know why there's still no word from Sky Monkey about that silver? And why the officials haven't made a move against us for returning to Shaanxi and beating Ai Mu? Because Shaanxi doesn't want to ship the silver out."

"Grand Coordinator Liu submitted a memorial, wanting to keep the silver for disaster relief in northern Shaanxi. He said famine blankets the land, every county is merging villages and consolidating tax units. He didn't even dare ask the Emperor to waive the Liao tax — only to defer collection and make it up next year. Guess what the Emperor said?"

Liu Chengzong said this with a smile, slapping palm against the back of his hand and gesturing forward. "'Guangsheng, as Grand Coordinator, you too should diligently feel for the people's hidden suffering, so as to seek both public and private relief.'"

Chengzu blinked and asked, "That doesn't sound bad, does it? Isn't 'diligently feel for the people's hidden suffering' a fine phrase?"

"Yes, it sounds fine on its own. But what Liu Guangsheng memorialized was that the broken people of Shaanxi have already been bled to the marrow — the tax simply can't be collected. He asked if the Liao tax could be paid a year late. So what does the Emperor's reply actually mean?"

Liu Chengzong laughed with a snort. "It means: you're the Grand Coordinator, so handle local matters yourself. If you can't handle them, that's your problem. The Liao tax must be collected immediately."

The smile froze on Chengzu's face. He stood rigid in the military tent, stunned for a long moment, then ground his teeth. "That dog. If I were Grand Coordinator, I wouldn't do the job for that bastard."

"He couldn't keep doing it even if he wanted to. The Emperor's already said that much — can he actually collect the Liao tax?"

Liu Chengzong shook his head. "Just wait and see. I reckon the Shaanxi Grand Coordinator is about to be replaced."

A few days later.

He Yong came over from the north to hang out and told him with exaggerated manner, "Lion, did you know? Grand Coordinator Liu Guangsheng has fallen gravely ill and can't get up. Looks to me like the Shaanxi Grand Coordinator is going to be replaced."

Liu Chengzong had long expected this in his heart. He merely nodded and smiled to show he understood, then asked, "Can you get me some gunpowder?"

He Yong sucked in a breath and shook his head. "Even if I got you some gunpowder, it couldn't get through. You'd better figure out how to mix your own. Wang Zuogua has been pacified and is garrisoned right at Suide."

"He's still robbing this and that all day. Nothing can get through — I have to sneak over here on the sly myself."

At the mention of Wang Zuogua, He Yong got a headache and said to Liu Chengzong, "His so-called 'pacification' is just treating the officials like fools."

"Well, what else?"

Liu Chengzong rolled his eyes at him.

The situation in Shaanxi was clearly a chain reaction: natural disasters led to popular uprisings, uprisings led to starving troops, starving troops further fueled the uprisings — a vicious cycle.

The court was fixated entirely on suppression and pacification, but the root cause was the drought.

He said, "Unless the court transfers the pacified peasant armies to places like Huguang, Henan, or Northern Zhili where they can recover and rebuild — giving them land, oxen, and seeds — pacification will always be a fool's errand."

He Yong had never thought about these things. He laughed it off and let it pass, but he cared more about something else. He leaned in close to Liu Chengzong and asked, "You're out of gunpowder?"

Liu Chengzong looked at him and smiled. "We have some, but it won't be nearly enough in the future. Who ever complains about having too much gunpowder?"

He Yong said quickly, "I was just asking. Don't worry, I won't tell the General about this."

Liu Chengzong was telling the truth — they did still have over two hundred jin of gunpowder, but it was clearly not enough.

Because Shi Chengwo from Shanxi had sent him a letter detailing his design concepts for the Heaven and Earth types of cannon, and had already cast eight Heaven-type Lion Cannons weighing three hundred jin each.

It was supposed to be ten, but two were found to leak during testing after casting and had to be melted down for another try.

These were eight bronze cannons firing three-jin shot, each using one and a half jin of powder per shot. Not to mention the Earth-type Lion Cannons still in production — even if smaller, they'd still use one jin of powder each.

Twenty cannons, one volley, and that's twenty-five jin gone.

Once these cannons arrived, a gunpowder shortage was inevitable.

Originally, Lion Camp still had over three hundred jin of gunpowder.

But some time ago, Apricot River sent over fifty breech-loading hand cannons designed by Shi Chengwo.

Now his household troops were divided into left and right squads. The left squad was led by the Han brothers, skilled in mounted archery; the right squad was led by Zhong Bao, expert with sabers and lances.

One hundred jin of gunpowder was just enough for five thousand shots.

These breech-loading hand cannons were all issued to Zhong Bao. That bunch practiced mounted shooting on the plateau every day — five shots in the morning, five in the afternoon — burning through ten jin of gunpowder a day.

Lion Camp wasn't short on sulfur, though. The previous year, Yan'an Prefecture had halted the work-relief program, so Father and Yang Dingrui organized the refugees at Yuanlong Temple to get the kiln works running again.

And Apricot River was also roasting green vitriol. What they lacked was saltpeter, and without a fixed place to boil it, resupply was difficult in the short term. They'd have to wait until after the Mid-Autumn Festival to organize the villages to sweep houses and scrape together some saltpeter.

But that was ultimately a drop in the bucket. The more saltpeter, the better. Once they had cannons of a fixed standard, Liu Chengzong still wanted to train artillerymen in large numbers.

No gunpowder, no go.

The thought gave Liu Chengzong a headache. Since Fish River Fort couldn't supply gunpowder, he could only send someone to Yanshui Pass to ask that generations-loyal Fu the Battalion Commander.

Fortunately, Battalion Commander Fu was generous. Just two days after sending someone over, word came back — Fu Renxi would come in person in a couple of days.

It wasn't just Fu Renxi who came; there was also a donkey cart hauling four barrels of gunpowder.

"Two hundred jin in total. Yanshui Pass doesn't need it lately anyway. The General said you want to train musketeers, so take it and use it first."

Fu Renxi said, "But you having no powder here is going to be a big problem sooner or later. You know what to do about it?"

"Boil it. I can refine sulfur here, and charcoal's no problem either. The main shortage is saltpeter, and there's really no way around that — we just have to find saltpeter earth and boil it."

Liu Chengzong shook his head. "Years ago I had a firecracker maker in my hands. He said there's plenty of saltpeter around Bao'an and Anbian. I've been thinking about whether to move the camp and take the troops over there to have a look."

"Don't!"

Fu Renxi spread his hands to stop him, urgent. "You can't leave! If you go, then I'll be the one needing gunpowder!"

Liu Chengzong paused a moment before catching the logic of Fu Renxi's words.

So it turned out that the reason he "didn't need gunpowder" was because Liu Chengzong's Lion Camp was stationed at Yanchuan, keeping other bandits away from the area while also influencing Gao Yingxiang, who had already entered Shanxi — that was why he didn't need gunpowder.

The moment Liu Chengzong left, other bandits would certainly come, and then Fu Renxi's men would have no choice but to fight.

Liu Chengzong said, "Well then, how about you think of a way for me — buying works too."

"Don't put it like that." Liu the Lion had only said it offhand, but he hadn't expected Fu Renxi to take it seriously. "You probably can't get it at the market price, but would you be willing to pay a higher price?"

Gunpowder was cheap. At market price, ten thousand jin was only two hundred and forty taels.

Lion Camp wasn't short on money — what they lacked was connections.

Liu Chengzong said happily, "You can buy it for me?"

"Let me think." Fu Renxi put his hands on his hips, lowered his head and pondered for a moment, then looked up and said, "But let's be clear first — if you really mean to buy, I figure the lowest you'd get is double the price."

Liu Chengzong spread his hands. "Double — that's nearly five taels per hundred jin. I'll pay quadruple. Whatever price you manage to buy it at, once it's delivered to me, I'll pay ten taels per hundred jin. Anything extra is yours."

"Uh, General..."

Fu Renxi rubbed his hands together and said, "Actually, Yanshui Pass still has four hundred jin of gunpowder. For any more than that, I'll go back and figure something out. Rest easy about the gunpowder — I'll definitely get it bought for you!"