Chapter 454: The Bureau of Military Appointments

On Phoenix Mountain in Xining stands the Southern Mountain Temple, now the foremost sacred site of the three teachings in the Hehuang region.

It houses both the Dharma Protector Hall and Maitreya Hall of Buddhism's Pure Land school, as well as the True Warrior Hall and Ascension Hall of Daoism, while at the very center of the complex stand Hehuang's largest Guandi Temple and God of Wealth Temple, arranged one behind the other.

Zhao Kebian offered a stick of incense before the four-legged bronze tripod in front of the Guandi Temple hall, then entered and tilted his head back, silently studying the statue of Lord Guan for a long while.

This statue of Lord Guan had been commissioned when Liu Chengzu served as Commander of Xining Garrison, and it did not follow the common folk image of the green robe worn on the outside found in storybooks — instead, Lord Guan was clad in a Han-dynasty tube-sleeved lamellar armor.

As the fierce warrior who, amid the ten-thousand-strong army of the Marshal's headquarters, had speared the Oirat league leader the Eshi Khan from his horse, Hundred-Commander Zhao Kebian received proper medical treatment after the battle; once his life was out of danger, he was enfeoffed as General of Illustrious Valor, third class, and sent to Xining's Phoenix Mountain to recuperate.

Beyond that, Liu Chengzong also dispatched four soldiers from the Bee-Sting Needle unit to attend to Zhao Kebian's daily needs.

The sole blemish was that Zhao Kebian's wish to mount a three-eyed gun on his severed hand came to nothing.

Prosthetics are an exceedingly ancient trade — as far back as the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods, the industry already flourished thanks to the existence of corporal punishment; the saying "sandals are cheap, prosthetics are dear" referred precisely to how, because so many suffered the punishment of foot-amputation, shoes became cheap while artificial feet grew expensive.

Making a prosthetic hand posed no great difficulty — Liu Chengzong had the craftsmen of the Hundred Works Bureau fashion many prosthetic hands for Zhao Kebian, not only everyday-assist hands that could hold a bowl or grasp a spoon, but also purely decorative hands so lifelike they could pass for real.

But not a single one was a prosthetic hand fitted with a three-eyed gun.

"Lord Guan, protect me — when the troops are mustered at Jiayu Pass this time, let this junior and latecomer go forth to battle."

In the span of barely a year, it would be no exaggeration to say Zhao Kebian had died twice, and those two lives had, in the shortest possible time, transformed him from a minor squad leader in Yulin Garrison into the Marshal's headquarters' General of Illustrious Valor.

He had achieved the dream of ninety-nine out of a hundred soldiers of this age: he had cut down the enemy commander and seized their banner, rising to the heavens in a single bound.

During his convalescence, Liu Chengzong visited him in person seven times, repeatedly expressing that the blood that needed to be shed had already been shed, and what remained henceforth was to marry, have children, and live well.

Yet deep down, Zhao Kebian felt little gratitude toward the heavens for letting him keep his life — he still wanted to go back to the battlefield.

It was not merely the pursuit of fame and rank; Zhao Kebian was a soldier with few ideals. He was no peasant by birth — or rather, in the Yulin of this age, there were hardly any peasants at all. For generations, the men there were born for war and died for war.

Liu Chengzong told him he had performed a merit unmatched in a generation, that he could coast on the merit rolls for the rest of his life and enjoy a life others could only dream of.

But Zhao Kebian simply had no idea what other decent way there was for a grown man to live in this world, or what other decent way there was to die, apart from the battlefield.

The army life and the battlefield that others shunned were the environment his family had lived in for generations — he had clearly achieved great merit, yet now he was supposed to step out of his comfort zone and become a man of wealth and ease... He was a little afraid.

Gazing at the awe-inspiring statue of Emperor Guan within the great hall, Zhao Kebian's face was utterly devout as he prayed to return to the battlefield, even if not as a Regional Commander or Brigade Commander — just being a Company Commander would do.

In fact, on the very day Lanzhou fell, he had already sent a letter to Liu Chengzong, hoping the Grand Marshal would grant him the post of Company Commander while retaining his rank as General of Illustrious Valor.

Footsteps sounded from outside the hall — it was one of the soldiers attending him, who entered and said excitedly, "General Zhao, the Marshal has arrived at Tiger Terrace and summons us over."

The soldiers were excited, of course — their military registrations still belonged to that Company Commander unit of Bee-Sting Needle... After the war ended, nearly every man in Bee-Sting Needle's Company Commander headquarters had received the merit of a two-rank promotion, leaving only the few of them as ordinary soldiers.

But they were neither fools nor cowards — they were genuine veteran Lion soldiers. It was only because they had led the battlefield removal of Bee-Sting Needle's Company Commander from his post and pushed Hundred-Commander Zhao Kebian up as acting Company Commander that they were punished after the war, their merits and offenses canceling each other out.

There was no merit to speak of in looking after a crippled general, and all four of them eagerly hoped that Zhao Kebian would receive a substantive appointment, so that they too might reap tangible benefits from it in the future.

Among the Lion soldiers who had followed Liu Chengzong with them back in northern Shaanxi, nearly all were now at least Hundred-Commanders or squad leaders — barely any remained ordinary soldiers.

At the news of Liu Chengzong's summons, Zhao Kebian grew exceptionally excited. He immediately had his attendant fetch his finest decorative prosthetic hand, then led his four guards and hurried to Tiger Terrace.

Tiger Terrace was the towering command platform built when the Southern Liang state established its capital at Xining during the Sixteen Kingdoms period — a nine-tiered earthen mound, surrounded by open ground and barracks where troops were once garrisoned. The militarily obsessive Southern Liang rose and fell in a flash, lasting a mere eighteen years in this world, yet this Tiger Terrace endured.

When Zhao Kebian reached Tiger Terrace, Liu Chengzong was receiving Zhang Tianlin, who had come over from Haixi County.

A cavalry battalion preparing to cross the Qilian Mountains into Gansu had finished assembling and was conducting mountain training at Southern Mountain Fort; Chen Qindai, the Magistrate of Haixi, was mobilizing the eight tribes of Qilian's tribal peoples to serve as guides and scout the defenses of the Gansu army on the other side of the mountains.

The various rockets and flying cannons needed for this expedition were also being transported in succession from the Yaoshui River Arsenal to the coast, awaiting only the Three Tribulations Society in Gansu to complete preparations of warhorses, donkeys, and mules — then a single order would set them marching.

Liu Chengzong attached particular importance to Zhang Tianlin's operation; this was their first large-scale military maneuver across a mountain range, and naturally it warranted the delegation of higher authority.

Zhang Tianlin's original official post was General of Illustrious Valor, third class, holding the assignment of Brigade Commander of the Left Battalion, Left Brigade, Field Division. Now the entire Left Battalion was being promoted on the spot to Vanguard Brigade, with authorization to recruit defectors and expand its ranks on its own once it reached Gansu.

The two had just finished discussing military affairs and exchanged a few idle words when Liu Chengzong heard a guard report that Zhao Kebian had arrived.

At that name, Liu the Lion felt a headache coming on. He paused, gave a rueful laugh, and said, "Let him come."

Seeing Liu Chengzong react that way, Zhang Tianlin had initially wanted to ask about it, but noticing that Liu the Lion showed no intention of elaborating, he had no choice but to drop it, rise, and take his leave.

Liu the Lion could not speak of it — he could not speak ill of a rising general in front of his own direct-line generals.

There was no commander who did not cherish a subordinate as brave as Zhao Kebian, and Liu Chengzong was no exception. During this period, he had visited Zhao Kebian more diligently than he saw his own wife.

To put it plainly, if there were any means at all to win Zhao Kebian over, Liu Chengzong would have used them without scruple — if he liked money, give him money; whatever he liked, give it to him. He had even arranged a marriage for Zhao Kebian, to the daughter of Mo Yujing, the Garrison-Farming Brigade Commander.

But Zhao Kebian was no ordinary man. For ordinary men, soldiering and war were the means, and wealth and glory the end.

Zhao Kebian was exactly the reverse: wealth and glory were the means, and soldiering and war were the end. For the sake of soldiering and war, he could forgo wealth and glory.

This was why Liu the Lion got a headache the moment he heard that name — he thought Zhao Kebian had a screw loose.

To be precise, Zhao Kebian had no idea what he himself wanted; it was simply that his life had always been this way, and so he wished for it to continue this way.

With anyone else, this would actually be easy to resolve — if you like fighting, then off to war you go. But Zhao Kebian's identity and the timing of his meritorious deed were both far too delicate. He was a surrendered officer, wounded and captured during the great Hehuang campaign, who then, in the decisive clash with the various Oirat tribes, had speared the Eshi Khan from his horse and settled the outcome in a single stroke.

The Marshal's headquarters' consistent instruction to its soldiers was to tell both its own troops and the surrendered soldiers that the Ming dynasty's mandate was exhausted and it could no longer solve the present problems, which was why the court had to be overthrown — but soldiers and commoners alike were all brothers, limbs of one body, and slaughtering one another was a thing that grieved kin and gladdened foes. Their purpose was to establish a better world.

Any government troops who defected and surrendered were henceforth their own people — since they had come, they should be at ease; the Marshal's headquarters treated all equally.

Zhao Kebian was the kind of exemplar you could not find even with a lantern, and once this model was established, the army in the future would be filled with countless Zhao Kebians.

That was why Liu Chengzong was unwilling to let Zhao Kebian return to the front lines. He had finally found such an exemplar — high office and lavish rewards had been bestowed, and then this lord charged onto the battlefield and, bang, got killed by a cannonball. How great an impact would that have on morale?

Such things happened far too often. A brave general was highly likely to die on the battlefield. Never mind Zhao Kebian — take Li Rusong, who had led troops on campaigns since childhood and served across all nine border garrisons. He toyed with the Mongols as if it were a game, swept across the Korean peninsula seizing a thousand li of territory, and in the end, died on the battlefield at the hands of the Mongols.

Liu Chengzong needed a living Zhao Kebian — he needed him to marry and have children, live in comfort and plenty, enjoy a long life of a hundred years, and moreover, show himself in public from time to time.

Yet this one simple requirement was, for Zhao Kebian, exceedingly difficult to accept.

Fortunately, Cheng Yun from Zhuanglang Garrison had sent Liu the Lion a letter, which gave him an idea for how to arrange Zhao Kebian's next posting.

"Your humble subordinate Zhao Kebian pays respects to the Grand Marshal!"

Seeing Zhao Kebian announce himself outside the command tent, Liu Chengzong rose and ushered him in. "Come, quickly — I've been waiting for you a long while. Sit."

Zhao Kebian, however, was in no hurry to sit. He made a circuit of the command tent — which had originally belonged to the Guyuan Regional Commander — even gave a little jump, and raised each arm once, saying, "Grand Marshal, your humble subordinate's battle wounds have healed. I can return to camp."

Watching Zhao Kebian's jubilant expression, all Liu Chengzong could see in his eyes was worry. He understood Zhao Kebian's injuries intimately.

In that duel with the Eshi Khan, Zhao Kebian had suffered two axe wounds, seven arrow wounds, and had been kicked once by a horse. The other injuries had indeed all healed, but there were still two places on his body that had not fully recovered.

One was the stump of his right forearm — it had more or less healed over, but whenever he wore the prosthetic and put weight on it, it would fester and require fresh dressing. The other was a through-and-through wound on his left thigh caused by a feathered arrow fired at close range.

That arrow had missed anything vital and passed through cleanly; treating it had not been difficult. In theory, this wound should have healed long ago.

But Zhao Kebian thought the healed wound leaving behind a hole was too ugly, so the surgeon had specially forged a set of custom scalpels for him — a set of round-headed little iron rakes in graduated sizes. Whenever the wound closed, he would insert the little rake to tear the new flesh back open, then disinfect it with distilled high-proof liquor, apply medicine, and bandage it.

In truth, whether you pick at it or not makes little difference — the muscle is already damaged and cannot heal. Leaving a small hole won't affect normal use of the leg; you just won't be able to exert great strength.

If you keep tearing the wound open like this, in the end the penetrating injury can indeed close up, but what grows back won't be muscle — it will be scar tissue, formed from repeated injury and repeated healing.

Liu Chengzong said, "It's good that it's healed, but I can no longer let you lead troops into battle. It's not that I doubt your ability — I need to keep you alive."

The anticipation and joy on Zhao Kebian's face dissolved into disappointment. His eyes widened in disbelief as he extended his faintly trembling left hand and his motionless right hand, pleading like a drowning man clutching at the last straw: "Grand Marshal, you can't... I am already like this. Grand Marshal cannot make me live on as a useless cripple!"

"You are a hero of the Marshal's residence — how can that be called a cripple living on in disgrace? Even if you can no longer hold a weapon, you still have experience and insight. I have two arrangements. Hear me out."

Liu Chengzong raised a finger and said, "First, if we win this battle, Hehuang will be our heartland in the future. You could serve as Vice Regional Commander of Hehuang, overseeing recruitment, training, bandit suppression, and public order."

Zhao Kebian was somewhat moved, and the look he gave Liu Chengzong was especially grateful. The Five Garrisons belonged to the local militia system, and this was a post that a Manifest Valor General or a Pacifying Frontier Colonel could hold — it showed that the Grand Marshal was doing his best not to treat him as disabled.

"However, I don't really want you doing that, and you probably know the reason. If we win this war, it will be a posting with few chances for merit."

Liu Chengzong shifted tack and asked, "Jing Xiaoliu of East Gate — you know of him, right?"

Zhao Kebian nodded. East Gate Commander Jing Xiaoliu was also a well-known figure in the Marshal's residence. The man's fame surpassed that of many generals. Everyone knew how Jing Xiaoliu had seized the lands of the Zhuanglang Guard's banner troops and brought vast quantities of grain and fodder back to the Marshal's residence.

He asked, "I heard that General Jing is defending the city at Zhuanglang Guard. He'll be made a general after this battle too, won't he?"

"Your information is indeed well-sourced." Liu Chengzong nodded, then shook his head and said, "The battle has gone on for two days. The follow-up reinforcements have arrived to relieve him. He was a potter from Jingjia Kiln in Yanchuan. He's followed me for four years. I originally planned to make him a garrison commander at East Gate after this battle."

Having said this, Liu Chengzong placed his hand on the table. "But just now, he has already written to me requesting to resign."

"Resign?"

Zhao Kebian froze, then became somewhat indignant. "His future is boundless — why would he resign?"

My hand is broken and I'm still fighting to stay in the army, yet Jing Xiaoliu, with all four limbs intact, actually wants to resign!

"Over half his subordinates were killed or wounded. The soldiers he recruited from his own home are dead. He couldn't bear it."

Liu Chengzong waved his hand. "I approved it. We lacked experience before. Recruitment and command must be separated — they cannot rest on one man's shoulders."

"This... a grown man."

Zhao Kebian could not understand. He spread his hands and said, "Grand Marshal, none of us who came out to be soldiers are pious men and women. We eat this grain knowing full well that going to battle means killing — either you kill or you get killed. Otherwise, why draw blades and form ranks?"

Liu Chengzong said nothing.

Chengyun had written to him precisely about this matter. The casualties among his subordinates had nearly broken Jing Xiaoliu. He did not know how to face his subordinates' parents, wives, and children back at East Gate, and wanted to resign and leave the army.

Chengyun had thought of a place for him, and so wrote to inform Liu Chengzong. Now that they had a recruited army, matters of pensions and compensation had to keep pace.

In the past, few men needed pensions. Many soldiers were the sole registered members of their households — when they fell in battle, there was no one even to receive the pension. The East Gate militia that Jing Xiaoliu led was the first unit under the Marshal's residence where every man required a pension.

Chengyun could not manage it alone. He hoped to establish a subordinate department, the Bureau of Military Appointments and Conscription, within the Military Office of the Marshal's Six Offices, with Jing Xiaoliu serving as one of its chief officers, specifically in charge of pensions.

"If you are willing, I would like you to enter the Military Office."

When Liu Chengzong finished, Zhao Kebian was utterly stunned. The Marshal's Military Office was the equivalent of the imperial Ministry of War. As a veteran soldier, if he used his brain while daydreaming, he might dare imagine becoming a general or a brigade commander. But even in the dead of night, dreaming without his brain, he would never dare dream of entering the Ministry of War.

His nerve failed him on the spot. Stammering, he asked, "Grand... Grand Marshal, me, enter the Ministry of War — no, I mean, enter the Military Office — to do what?"

"As Manifest Valor General, serve as Director of the Hexi Bureau of Military Appointments and Conscription, in charge of maps and border checkpoints, merit evaluation and fault review, rewards, punishments and pensions, and military inspections and reviews."

Having said this, Liu Chengzong looked at Zhao Kebian and said with emphasis, "You are a man who has been wounded. In rewarding, punishing, and providing for the troops, you will certainly be more diligent than others."