Chapter 406: Migration

In the Marshal's yamen of the new city, Liu Xiangyu sat in the hall, his face marked by fatigue as he set down the letter and rubbed his sore, swollen eyes.

His son was fighting on the front lines, while the father oversaw logistics and supply calculations in the rear — every day, over a hundred letters from all over flew into the yamen like snowflakes, each one demanding immediate review and reply, and it had utterly worn him out.

Fortunately, Shiwawa knew how to spare his father worry, fighting his battles both swiftly and well — but the tasks that needed doing were not one bit fewer.

Just recently, as the war drew to a close, two personal letters had arrived in succession from the Central Army Shogunate, both asking him to weigh in on matters.

The first letter was fine — Liu Xiangyu could understand it and grasp its intent; it was simply about merging the noble titles and official posts of Han and Mongols into one system, a matter that would take its natural course.

With the end of this campaign, the Eastern Mongol Chahar were left with barely over ten thousand able-bodied men, unable to prop up the hollow Northern Yuan Khan's court; the Oirat of the Western Mongols, defeated militarily, had seen many of their noble chieftains taken captive, and they would have to make political concessions to buy their freedom.

In Liu Xiangyu's mind, at this very moment, this war unfolding in Qinghai carried an impact far more profound than what met the eye — the centuries-long war between the Central Plains dynasties and the tribes north of the frontier had been decided, victory and defeat, at their hands.

In other words, the more than one hundred thousand Mongols under the Marshal's Office had utterly lost their bargaining power; they no longer had any path of retreat.

The Zuo Commentary, Fourth Year of Duke Cheng, says: "Those not of our kin are sure to have a different heart."

Liu Xiangyu believed that this "different heart" was not necessarily ill intent — merely the existence of a fallback. If Xie Erhu found life under the Marshal's Office uncomfortable, he could still rally his men and flee to the lands south of the desert to pay homage to the Great Khan; he'd have troops and followers at his disposal, and could just as easily secure a stretch of grazing land and become a local chief.

So long as that possibility existed, Xie Erhu remaining in the Marshal's Office meant the Marshal's Office had to account for one more variable, had to weigh one more factor.

A powerful Mongol Great Khan was the hope that guaranteed all Mongols living abroad would receive fair treatment: a Mongol serving as a Regional Commander must not be treated worse than other Regional Commanders; a Mongol herdsman must not be treated worse than other herdsmen.

And the comparison had to be made twice over — measured against the Regional Commanders and herdsmen of the Marshal's Office for the sake of fairness, and measured against the Regional Commanders and herdsmen of the Chahar for the sake of stability.

With the end of this war, such concerns would no longer be necessary.

Reading Liu Chengzong's letter, Liu Xiangyu felt deeply gratified. The merging of official posts and noble titles meant that from now on, the Marshal's Office would not recognize Northern Yuan titles like Khan, Taiji, Jaisang, or Taishi, but would instead use their own official posts and titles.

This also revealed Liu Chengzong's mindset: while refusing to recognize Northern Yuan titles, he would likewise not treat the Mongols as a special case — neither elevating their treatment nor demeaning them now that they had no backing. Without distinctions of rank, they would simply be common subjects.

The advantages of this approach were obvious: it would assimilate the Mongols within their borders, just like Bao Hu of the Guide Thousand-Household. His ancestors were most likely Borjigin, yet now he fought shoulder to shoulder with a two-hundred-catty bronze statue of the Hongwu Emperor, his faith unshakable and indestructible.

The drawbacks, however, were also immense. Without a sufficiently large population of their own people, a state run this way would sooner or later splinter apart.

Embracing and absorbing different cultures can sometimes spark brilliant collisions, but far more often, it carries the hidden risk of division.

Yet for the Marshal's Office, this problem was negligible. Liu Xiangyu was quite philosophical about it — once they entered and took control of the Central Plains, they would possess the realm's largest ethnic group.

A few hundred thousand Tatars, like a stream flowing into the Yellow River, would not even raise a ripple.

Of course, perhaps the Marshal's Office would never succeed in entering the Central Plains. Liu Xiangyu felt that if even being buried back in the yellow earth of Yan'an Prefecture was a luxury he could not hope for in this lifetime, then who would care whether the Mongols rose again or not?

It would not matter either way.

Liu Xiangyu's reply to his second son was blunt and unadorned: since the outcome had already been decided on the battlefield and victory and defeat made clear, there was no need for further courtesies.

Change Khan to State Duke, Khan to Prefecture Marquis, Khong Tayiji to Region Count, and Tayiji to County Count. Establish yamen for the five Oirat and Chahar divisions, staffed with principal and deputy hall officials, as well as instructors and circulating officials; employ the tribes' former Jaisang and other administrative officers as minor clerks.

The sons and younger brothers of dukes, marquises, and counts shall enroll in schools in Xining and serve in the Marshal's guard corps. Those who excel in their studies and possess talent may inherit noble titles and may also be selected from among their number to serve as hall officials and circulating officials. Those without talent or virtue are forbidden from inheriting titles.

Although Liu Xiangyu provided a comprehensive answer in this reply, he also told Liu Chengzong in the letter to be wary of the Oirat nobles, because these men would accept every condition — but would not necessarily carry them out as agreed.

Even if they accepted all the demands in full and carried them out to the letter, that still did not mean the Marshal's Office could control the Tianshan.

They could not control it.

Liu Xiangyu was the first person in the Marshal's Office to have contact with the Oirat envoys. It was simply that people take things one step at a time — back then, his two sons were commanding the main army in battle against the imperial court to the east, and all he was thinking about was avoiding a war on two fronts.

The Oirat nobles, led by the State Preceptor Khan, had a very distinct trait: they cared nothing for face and were exceedingly pragmatic. The Marshal's Office, as a newborn regime in the northwest of the Great Ming, needed face — provided its substance suffered no loss.

Liu Xiangyu was a traditional official. In this vast land, he held a deeply ingrained boundary in his heart regarding territory. This boundary, in the northwest, was a diagonal line connecting Jiayu Pass to Xining.

East of that diagonal line was substance; west of that diagonal line was face.

Thus, in Liu Xiangyu's view, ceding some grazing land in the boundless expanse of Qinghai was of no consequence. So long as Hehuang remained unthreatened, using that as the price for an alliance with the Oirat — or even nominal submission — was a low-cost, effective means of avoiding the threat of war.

But now, at this moment, the very pragmatism that had been the Oirat's virtue back then had become their flaw.

They could just as easily swear fealty and pay tribute to the Jin Kingdom as they could grovel and humble themselves before the Marshal's Office. So long as it benefited their practical interests, nothing else mattered.

When it was needed, Liu Xiangyu called this "choosing substance over face" — a virtue. When it was not needed, Liu Xiangyu called it "utterly devoid of propriety, righteousness, integrity, and shame" — a flaw.

For this reason, Liu Xiangyu did not believe that the Oirat nobles' surrender, their joint oaths, the establishment of prefectures and counties, and the merging of titles and posts would allow the Marshal's Office to control the Tianshan once and for all.

Unless the Marshal's forces fought a battle near the Tianshan that shocked the Oirat to their core, they would never be able to control the Tianshan.

To address this matter, he had specially summoned Liu Chengzu back from Hehuang, wanting his eldest son, well-versed in military affairs, to discuss it with him.

But this kind of thing was very difficult even for Liu Chengzu.

He said, "Father, the Tianshan is five thousand li from Hehuang, cutting across vast deserts, the Gobi, high cliffs, and sheer ridges. The land there is not like the Central Plains, where fertile fields stretch everywhere — I've heard that even the oases have been swallowed by windblown sand. A round trip is ten thousand li; for one man to fight, a hundred must haul grain. Not only could the Marshal's Office not bear such a logistical burden, even the entire Great Ming could not sustain it."

"Oh, so that is how you see it."

Liu Xiangyu sat at the table, gently tapping his pipe bowl, his brow faintly furrowed amid the pale blue smoke. "Then how is it that those Oirat Tartars can cross five thousand li to fight at the sea? Are they richer than the Central Plains?"

"They are not the same as us. In the northwest, they have Yarkand and Turpan — both Chagatai Mongol stock. The Oirat can request passage through their lands and can also trade for supplies from the nomadic tribes, and they have guides who know the routes intimately."

Liu Chengzu spread his hands. "We, on the other hand, let alone requesting passage through Yarkand and Turpan — even if we tried to borrow a route through Gansu, we would most likely be intercepted and hemmed in by government troops."

What's more — though Liu Chengzu did not say it aloud — even if government troops set out from Jiayu Pass, reaching Ili would still require a march of three thousand li, which likewise exceeded the limits of supply transport.

"Then, in your opinion, how can we deliver an army to Ili and win a great victory there?" Liu Xiangyu set down his pipe. "Think of a way."

"Trade."

Liu Chengzu shook his head. "Under the pretext of opening trade, establish a post station every fifty to one hundred li along the route, wherever there is a water source, extending all the way to Turpan — a point still a thousand li from Ili. Only then could we dispatch troops for battle."

"A thousand li?"

Liu Xiangyu caught that distance and asked, "A single supply station, enabling troops to be dispatched from a thousand li away — and that would be enough to win?"

"Father, that is not what I meant."

Liu Chengzu dared not speak in absolutes. He merely said, "Transporting grain over a thousand li can at least ensure that the army's morale and fighting strength do not drop too sharply. With the Marshal's Office troops, high pay, and generous rewards, fighting the Tartars in an orthodox formation should not pose much of a problem."

Having said that, he shook his head again. "Still, in my view, such an expenditure of effort would be better replaced by relying on garrison forces to maintain things — not seeking control, but merely ensuring ten years of stability among the Oirat, so they do not rise in revolt and delay our eastern offensive against the imperial court."

"Can you guarantee that?"

Liu Xiangyu glanced at him and pointed with his pipe. "Your father, in weighing the gains and losses, was just about to tell Shiwawa to send you to the Tianshan to hold the fort for a few years. If a slip delays the Marshal's Office's eastern offensive, that is one thing — but if your own life falls into another's hands… can you guarantee they will not take advantage of our rear being empty to ravage Hehuang?"

Liu Chengzu was momentarily speechless. Who could guarantee that?

Without control, the power of choice lay in Oirat hands.

What Liu Xiangyu saw was not only the prestige of Liu Chengzong's attempt to control the Oirat, but also the risk that came with failing to control them.

With titles conferred and rewards granted, and the nobles required to report to Xining to receive their salaries, the Oirat nobility would grow increasingly familiar with this route and the Marshal's headquarters' border defenses. Should control fail at that point, what awaited them would be an even swifter Oirat counterattack.

If the northwest erupted in chaos, it would wound the substance of his domain. He would rather die on the soil of the Central Plains; what use was carving out an even larger territory if he died in the lands of the barbarians?

This was something Liu Xiangyu absolutely could not accept.

"We must thoroughly subjugate the Oirat."

Liu Xiangyu spoke a single line with casual ease, yet each word weighed a thousand jun: "Garrison troops, government offices, land, settlers, and military colonies — not one can be omitted."

The words had barely faded when Liu Chengzu said, "Father, the first three points are easily achieved, but we have no common people to serve as settlers."

"Foolish talk. Since when do you use good, law-abiding commoners as settlers?"

Liu Xiangyu shot his eldest son a glance, rose, and paced the hall. After half a circuit, he turned back and said, "Since marching a thousand li is already feasible for battle, and victory in battle can overawe the Oirat, then whether we actually fight the Oirat or not — that doesn't really matter, does it?"

"What does Father mean?"

"A garrison of three to five thousand men, five?"

Liu Chengzu stood stunned for a moment, then suddenly laughed. "It's not that it isn't difficult, but it's not difficult. And once we take the various cities, we can turn right around and threaten the Oirat, using that to firmly hold the key northwest territory."

"But then again, we have no settlers. We can't very well fill the military colonies with Oirat people, and then use Oirat colony soldiers to turn around and threaten the Oirat, can we?"

He felt his father had simply gotten lost in a daydream and was joking.

No matter how fine the geographical conditions of the Ili River Valley, it would not be enough to make the people of Hehuang abandon their homes and migrate as settlers.

What was more, even if the people of Hehuang were willing to go, Liu Chengzong would not be willing to let them leave. The Marshal's headquarters had only just managed to secure Hehuang, and on the foundation of the border troops, had expanded the Han proportion of the total population — how could they possibly be willing to send settlers outward?

They had no other people at hand either. They could not very well move tribal people from Kangning Prefecture.

Kangning Prefecture had spent the last few years busy distributing land to slaves and opening new fields; they had all become independent farmers. Dragging them out to be soldiers — mindful of the Grand Marshal's benevolence, they might hold their noses and come down from the high plateau, and if they survived the battlefield, they could still go home.

But telling them to abandon their homes and travel six or seven thousand li to become settlers — that was absolutely impossible.

"Your father is not joking. Throughout history, in every golden age, the Western Regions have always been in the hands of the Central Plains. When the Western Regions are stable, the northwest is secure. Only then can the Lion Cub march east without worries at his rear. The achievement of recovering the Western Regions is a duty you, as his elder brother, cannot shirk. This merit will also make your name resound through the annals of history."

Liu Xiangyu spoke of this matter, which bordered on the fantastical, with the utmost seriousness. "There will be settlers."

Liu Chengzu felt that his father might not even have realized that with this single statement, he had just elevated the already formidable difficulty of recruiting settlers to an entirely new level.

Settlers are lured by the benefit of land, sent there to farm.

What you, venerable sir, want are not settlers — you want an armed land-reclamation brigade.

Where was the Marshal's headquarters supposed to find five or six thousand such people who were tired of living? Even if such people existed, wouldn't they be better off just farming in Hehuang?

Without settlers, it was impossible for the Marshal's headquarters to control land five thousand li away. This was a truth anyone understood, and Liu Xiangyu believed that even the Mongol nobles who had surrendered from the Oirat were perfectly aware of it.

This was, without a doubt, also the reason the nobles of the various Oirat tribes were willing to surrender and, to a large extent, accept any conditions Liu Chengzong set.

As long as they could return to the Ili River Valley, the sky was high and the birds could fly free — the Marshal's headquarters could not control them. For three years, five years — whether they submitted or rebelled, it would be entirely up to them.

"Chengzu, your eyes are looking too close."

Liu Xiangyu guided him patiently. "The Chahar have migrated west. The Jin Kingdom's front line has advanced to the outskirts of Xuanfu Garrison. The Ordos Tumen between Yulin Garrison and Ningxia Garrison is in utter chaos. With this great battle in Qinghai, the Chahar can no longer return to their homeland. What does this mean?"

Liu Chengzu blinked, not understanding what his father was getting at.

Old Master Liu answered his own question. "It means that the Three Borders of Shaanxi, which have always produced crack troops and fierce generals, now have no external enemies. The Emperor will transfer troops to suppress the rebellions, and the righteous armies rampaging across northern Shaanxi, Guanzhong, and Shanxi will suddenly face immense pressure."

Liu Chengzu's eyes lit up. "Father, are you thinking of mobilizing the righteous armies to go to the Tian Shan and form military colonies?"

Liu Xiangyu, who had held the pearl of wisdom firmly in hand, was instantly broken by his eldest son. He sat in his chair, propped his forehead on his hand, and sighed. "Do you think your father has the ability to mobilize the righteous armies? Even your younger brother doesn't have that ability. And even if we wanted to mobilize them, we'd still have to get them here! Do you think the Guyuan and Lintao Garrisons are just for show?"

Liu Chengzu shifted tack and asked, "Then what does Father mean?"

"Gansu. The Gansu border army of the Three Calamities Society."

Liu Xiangyu said, "They grew up on Han soil, are skilled in military formations and weaponry, and can organize themselves. They are all stout fellows who can endure hardship. Building stockades and setting up farms on the northern frontier of the Tian Shan, protecting the land would be no problem for them. Well-fed and organized into military colonies, they could still rampage across the Western Regions in all directions... Are they not the best settlers?"

－－－－－－Off-topic－－－－－－

Good afternoon!