Chapter 417: Swallowing the Pain

Liu Chengzong knew the price he had offered was very fair.

Because after they finished negotiating the annual arming of a thousand-man regiment, Batur Khong Tayiji began pressing the Marshal's Manor to launch a campaign against Gansu.

They had no choice but to campaign in Gansu — the Dzungars had no way to drive large livestock through the uninhabited wastes to the Caka Salt Pool. At most, they could only deliver them as far as Jiayu Pass. The road beyond required the Gansu oases as supply points to guarantee the animals' survival rate.

Otherwise, of fifty thousand sheep, none would survive the journey.

Trade and marching to war are not the same. For this campaign, they had mustered a forty-thousand-strong allied army and brought a fair number of livestock with them, but an army does not fear the wastes — they wouldn't even wait for the animals to starve or die of thirst; they'd simply butcher and eat them along the way.

A merchant caravan, at most a few hundred strong, driving great flocks of sheep and herds of cattle along the road with carts fully laden with goods — if the animals died on the road, there wouldn't be nearly enough mouths to eat them all.

Khong Tayiji was under no illusion that Liu Chengzong would foot the bill for dead livestock.

He had caught the Grand Marshal's implied meaning: the Marshal's Manor's productive capacity was far greater than he had imagined. How much goods he could buy actually depended on how high a price he could afford to pay.

In the days that followed, Khong Tayiji, lodging by the sea, waited in restless agitation for equipment samples from the Marshal's Manor armory.

Liu the Lion had no time to spare for Khong Tayiji for the moment, because Chen Qindai of Haibei County suddenly reported that Wang Ziyong had taken his summons very seriously — he had set out from Zhangye the moment he received word and had already reached Bazi Dun, Liyuan Fort, where the Yellow-head Uyghurs had been resettled inland.

Once Chen Qindai got the news, he had already dispatched Aji, chieftain of the Eight Tribes of the Qilian Mountains, to go and receive him.

Haibei County, situated on the flatlands between Qinghai Lake and the Qilian Mountains, had in earlier years been the front line of the Ming-Mongol wars, and was later forced to submit and pay tribute to the Tumed, who then purged rebellions there. By the time the Marshal's Manor finally incorporated it, no Mongol or Tibetan tribes of any real scale remained in the area.

All were survivors of war, and their defining trait was being small and scattered.

Chen Qindai had therefore named the various tribes and places under his rule in a very slapdash fashion — from First to Seventeenth, he divided them into seventeen petty tribes, and the places those petty tribes occupied were simply called Haibei First Township through Haibei Seventeenth Township.

Liu Chengzong, upon receiving the news, called for Zhang Tianlin. The two of them had a shorter distance to travel, while Wang Ziyong had a longer one. In the end, three leaders who had risen in revolt in northern Shaanxi met at the Haibei county office, three thousand li from home. Times had changed, and Wang Ziyong was deeply stirred.

He had never imagined that Liu Chengzong, in summoning him, would also come in person all the way to Haibei County to welcome him.

In truth, in Wang Ziyong's impression, of nearly all the chieftains who had made their start in northern Shaanxi, Liu the Lion was the youngest and also the hardest to get along with.

The great northern Shaanxi uprising had relied on universal outrage and a swarm of heroes rising at once; there was no organization. At the very beginning of the revolt, all the leaders were muddle-headed — none of them knew what the future would hold.

So like-minded leaders would go raiding together, and when they got plunder, they would abandon themselves to pleasure and drink until dawn. They were all ordinary men — unable to restrain themselves in dejection, and equally unable to restrain themselves in joy.

Isn't that exactly how bonds between people are formed?

Yet Liu Chengzong alone refused to fit in. His objective was clear, and he was very certain of his own aspirations in his heart. He acted alone in almost everything. When others sought his help, the Lion Camp could get the job done, but he himself had never once asked anyone else for help.

The mere fact that Liu Chengzong, when he approached these chieftains, always dealt with them strictly on the matter at hand, invisibly gave off an air of keeping people at arm's length.

Wang Ziyong had indeed received no small amount of kindness from the Liu family back in Yan'an Prefecture. In his heart, he was extremely grateful to Liu Chengzong and had been thinking all along of ways to repay him.

But in his heart, there was only gratitude, not the slightest trace of warmth or closeness.

The sense of distance between them was simply too strong.

If you really pressed Wang Ziyong to sum up what kind of person Liu Chengzong was, it came down to four words: he looked down on everyone.

But this meeting at the Haibei county office, with the wine and food the Marshal's Manor had prepared, was for Wang Ziyong almost a milestone ceremony that filled him with boundless emotion… There were three of them, and on the table sat three flasks of mare's-milk wine.

Without him even noticing, Liu the Lion had left an impression of cold aloofness in Wang Ziyong's heart; and without him noticing either, those three flasks of mare's-milk wine that Chen Qindai had brewed himself on the table made Wang Ziyong feel that the Grand Marshal actually held him in especially high regard.

All the leaders of northern Shaanxi shared one consensus — after Liu Chengzong left northern Shaanxi, Gao Yingxiang back in Lion's Gully was the most formidable figure there.

This was not simply because Gao Yingxiang had succeeded in farming at Lion's Gully, growing enough grain to feed himself and enough guns and cannons to be self-sufficient, and could even provide relief to the Yan'an Guard banner troops under Commander Ren.

It was even more because the Farming King Gao Yingxiang had said that in the territory of Shaanxi, only a man who had drunk with Liu the Lion could be counted as someone of real stature.

And who had Liu the Lion ever drunk with? Of the several hundred name-worthy chieftains across the whole of Shaanxi, none had ever drunk with him — only with Gao Yingxiang had he drunk: one flask, plus one extra mouthful.

The one flask was in the Mizhi county jail many years ago, which showed that Grand Marshal Liu had thought Gao Yingxiang was someone of stature ever since he was a boy.

The one mouthful was at a banquet in Yanchuan, which showed that even after Grand Marshal Liu had grown up, he still thought Gao Yingxiang was someone of stature.

Wang Ziyong searched his own heart — now that Liu Chengzong had become Grand Marshal and intended to drink an entire flask of wine with him, what did that signify?

It meant that in the Grand Marshal's eyes, he, Wang Ziyong, was so formidable he was practically up in the heavens.

At the sight of that flask of wine, before he had even taken his seat, Wang Ziyong clasped his fists and declared, "Through blades and flames, I, Wang, will follow every command the Grand Marshal gives!"

Every chieftain in all of Shaanxi knew the legend about Liu Chengzong and drinking — only Liu Chengzong himself did not.

Wang Ziyong's declaration left the completely oblivious Liu Chengzong baffled, thinking to himself, Chieftain Wang is really so straightforward — can this matter really be going so smoothly?

Liu Chengzong gestured for him to sit. "Brother Wang, please take a seat. We are family, men who have worked together since the very start of the uprising, so I won't beat around the bush. I don't need you to go through blades and flames, but the difficulty is about the same — I want you to go to the Tianshan Mountains on my behalf and take charge of a matter of great importance."

To be honest, Wang Ziyong was a little stunned.

Before setting out, he had already guessed at the reason Liu Chengzong had summoned him for a meeting, and he figured it most likely had to do with using the Three Tribulations Society. What could the Marshal's Manor possibly need the Three Tribulations Society for?

It had to be to launch an uprising in Gansu!

What Wang Ziyong had been calculating all along was precisely having the Three Tribulations Society rise up in Gansu.

But his army was still not fit for major use. It relied only on a few forts and watchtowers in the great desert and Gobi that the imperial court was barely maintaining, using them as strongpoints to manufacture weapons and drill the society's followers.

It was true that Liu Chengzong possessed the Three Tribulations Society's drill manual, but the core philosophy was different. The target Wang Ziyong had set for that manual, which called for drilling followers nine days a month, was to train junior officers.

In another year or so, the Three Tribulations Society would be able to harvest a thousand junior officers, capable of commanding thirty thousand men in an uprising.

The Three Tribulations Society had no fixed abode and could never enjoy as fine a source of soldiers as the Marshal's Manor. What was the makeup of his followers?

Regular garrison troops were the highest grade of talent; guard and battalion banner troops counted as elite. These men would join his Three Tribulations Society, but they might not necessarily pledge themselves under his banner to serve before the deed was done — after all, Wang Ziyong could not produce much in the way of pay and provisions, and at most could afford to support some officers.

The main body of the army would still be bankrupt peasants who could not even become tenant farmers, idle young hooligans from the cities, and famine refugees in the countryside.

Wang Ziyong's plan, therefore, was to recruit more craftsmen as followers, mass-produce firelocks at top speed, and then, seven months before the actual uprising, assemble all the followers for drill according to the manual — nine days a month, five months drilling formations, two months issuing firelocks loaded with fine earth for simulated shooting, and then rise up and march onto the battlefield.

To swell their momentum and trick open city gates. If field battle was necessary, they would use followers armed with firelocks to trade lives one-for-one with the most elite household retainers of the border army. As long as they could capture the string of linked garrison towns west of the Yellow River, that would count as victory.

The government forces in the Lanzhou direction would be pinned down by the Marshal's Manor. Relying on these thirty thousand disciples and grand-disciples of the Three Tribulations Society to carve out a foothold in Gansu, if he could hold it steady for two months, he would have nothing left to fear.

He had even prepared, for this meeting, to lay out his entire plan and military strength openly. The words were already on the tip of his tongue, but upon hearing Liu Chengzong's words, he could scarcely believe his own ears.

Go to the Tianshan Mountains?

Asking him to go to the Tianshan Mountains at a time like this — it was very hard for him not to associate it with a seizure of power… and that was deeply infuriating.

I came all the way here to serve you at a single word from you — is even that not enough? Do you still have to banish me all the way to the Tianshan Mountains?

Wang Ziyong froze on the spot. For a moment, countless thoughts raced through his mind, making him fidget with unease. Suppressing his anger with difficulty, he said awkwardly, "The Tianshan Mountains… Grand Marshal, what is the meaning of this?"

"Brother, don't be hasty. The situation in the northwest, and indeed across the entire northern frontier, has changed. First sit down, and listen as I explain slowly."

Liu the Lion saw through Wang Ziyong's misgivings and realized that the two of them had different understandings of the situation. He hurriedly moved first to steady Wang Ziyong, lest a misunderstanding arise.

Zhang Tianlin also chimed in to persuade him: "Monk Wang, sit down first. The Grand Marshal didn't mean it that way."

With the two of them urging him one after the other, Wang Ziyong finally sat down, still half believing and half doubting, and then listened as Liu Chengzong told him the whole chain of events — Ligdan Khan's death, the Oirat defeat, and the rest.

It would have been better if he hadn't said anything. Once he did, Wang Ziyong was even more shocked than when he heard he was being sent to the Tianshan Mountains. The look in his eyes as he stared at Liu Chengzong and Zhang Tianlin turned strange.

To the Marshal's headquarters, immersed in war, these events seemed only natural. But in the eyes of Wang Ziyong, who had long settled in Gansu, the Marshal's headquarters looked like a monster.

The five-garrison border army of the Great Ming came to Hehuang — took a beating and left.

The Oirat allied army came to Hehuang — took a beating and couldn't leave even if they wanted to.

The Mongol Khan came to Hehuang — and was simply struck dead on the spot.

What the hell is this Liu the Lion?

Wang Ziyong sat stunned for a long while before he finally spoke: "So the Grand Marshal wants me to go to the Tianshan Mountains and use the Gansu border troops to establish garrison colonies?"

"Exactly. In the northwest, only Brother Wang has that kind of influence in Gansu. You can help me recruit caravan guards and have them escort the Marshal's headquarters' trade caravans to the Tianshan Mountains."

Wang Ziyong asked, "How many men do you need?"

Liu the Lion had already calculated everything and was full of confidence. He said, "Ten caravans a year, two to three hundred men each — two to three thousand men annually, mainly camp soldiers and banner troops."

Wang Ziyong found this very difficult. After deliberating a moment, he said, "Grand Marshal, the journey is long and perilous. The ones capable of going — I can't call them out. The ones I can call out are all penniless. They can't even outfit themselves with water and rations. This matter, I'm afraid..."

"Easy."

Liu Chengzong smiled. "Those willing to go, have them register at Haibei County. Of course, it would be best if they can bring the armor — or even just the armor plates — they had when they left the army."

As he spoke, he spread both hands open. "Ten taels of silver per man. Silver ingots aren't easy to carry — I'll mint silver coins for them. The dry rations for the road, I'll prepare. Even if they show up stark naked..."

Liu Chengzong paused, considering the production capacity of the Marshal's headquarters' armory.

It wasn't that he was playing favorites. Liu the Lion knew perfectly well: these men ate his food, wore his clothes, and used his weapons — naturally, they were his men.

It was just that matters still had to be prioritized. The Marshal's headquarters' equipment production capacity was only so much. If the Gansu migrants heading to the Tianshan Mountains needed equipment, they could only use the spoils taken from the Mongols and the border army for the time being.

The armory's equipment production always took time, and it couldn't squeeze out the equipment production needed by the Dzungar tribe. After all, Liu the Lion's confidence in spending twenty to thirty thousand taels of silver and ten to twenty thousand dan of grain rations every year to encourage Gansu migration rested entirely on the Dzungar Khong Tayiji footing the bill.

In reality, in Liu the Lion's mind, all these things formed an interlocking chain. He was responsible for manufacturing firearms and cannons to arm the Dzungar forces.

The furs the Dzungar Khong Tayiji traded for firearms and cannon equipment would be processed into clothing and implements, then sold back to the Dzungars — and to Lanzhou — at ten times the price. The Dzungars would use military force to open up more raw material markets, serving as the Marshal's headquarters' military projection in Central Asia.

The ultimate goal Liu the Lion wanted to achieve was to use the Dzungars to force open the pass at Ufa in Tsarist Russia, compel them to open trade, and complete an entire industrial chain: the Dzungars seize Tsarist Russia's fur-producing regions, sell the furs to Xining for processing; the fur clothing and implements processed in Xining are sold back to the Dzungars, and the Dzungars in turn sell them to Tsarist Russia.

At present, the hardest problem in this industrial chain — the logical question of why the Dzungars should strike west instead of east — had already been solved.

Liu Chengzong had shown the Oirat tribes through concrete action: you can't win.

Once the logical question was sorted out, the problems from here on wouldn't be major — just a matter of how much.

As for how far this trade would develop, Liu the Lion didn't know. He only knew that the Dzungars currently controlled very few fur-producing regions. With the incentive of exchanging for armaments, the future scale of trade might expand tenfold or even twentyfold.

Perhaps by then, the Silk Road would have to be renamed the Gun and Cannon Road.

So it could be said that the Marshal's headquarters' arms sales to the Dzungars were the foundation of Liu Chengzong's confidence in mobilizing the Gansu border troops to migrate to the Tianshan Mountains. The Khong Tayiji was his God of Wealth.

As long as the Khong Tayiji's forces had a thousand sets of advanced weaponry and equipment — advanced by the worldwide standards of the Chongzhen era — the profits the Marshal's headquarters earned from trade would be enough to sustain the entire armory, continuously producing enough equipment to outfit two battalions.

Judged purely by equipment, a thousand-man brigade armed with these one thousand one hundred and twenty-five sets of gear would not be associated with the word "backward" anywhere in the world in this era.

The greatest profit in the arms sales came from the cannons. A one-thousand-five-hundred-jin cannon, converted through equivalent exchange in furs, was worth three thousand taels of silver. For one such cannon, including the five hundred cannonballs thrown in, the Marshal's headquarters' cost in materials and labor was around one hundred and fifty taels.

The cannonballs thrown in actually cost twice as much as casting the cannon itself.

But there was no way around it. Even if he set up a dedicated cannonball foundry in the Tianshan Mountains, he couldn't possibly move the Marshal's headquarters' entire industrial chain — the ironworks, the casting workshops, the smelting furnaces, the craftsmen — over to the Tianshan Mountains. Without all these supporting elements, the cost of casting five hundred seven-jin cannonballs would not be something a hundred taels could solve.

After all, it was two tons of iron. No matter where you put it, that was no joke.

Who could blame Second Master Liu for being so kind-hearted? He couldn't bear to see a premium client like the Khong Tayiji go home and hammer cannonballs with an iron mallet, so he had no choice but to hold his nose and throw the cannonballs in, painfully earning a mere two thousand eight hundred and fifty taels.

Considering all this, Liu Chengzong felt he still had to prioritize the client's needs first. In the end, he didn't make any grand promises and simply said, "Even if they show up stark naked, I've got Mongol armor and weapons piled up like mountains, plus the official troops' armor. It absolutely won't hold up their use."

"Once they reach the Tianshan Mountains, if they want to come back, I won't force them to stay. They can just return with the Dzungar trade caravans. If they're willing to stay, once I set up a government office over there, however much they can open up and however much they can plant, the government office will lease that much to them... As for Gansu matters, let Little Sixteen handle them first."

"Three to five years." Liu Chengzong leaned forward as he spoke. "Once we take the Western Regions and reopen the rivers and mountains of the Han people — if you're willing to stay, my brother will be the Protector-General of the Western Regions, and you'll be the Protector-General of Beiting, supporting each other like right and left arms. If you're willing to return, the Tianshan Garrison will have to stay there. Gansu, I'll still keep for you. We'll fight our way back to Yan'an Prefecture together. How about it?"

－－－－－－Off-topic－－－－－－

Good afternoon!