Chapter 520

North of the Eastern Tianshan Mountains lay the old territory of Beiting.

Liu Chengzu, leading his horse, bent down and scooped up a handful of earth, crushing it in his palm.

The Tianshan Army had set out from Hami at the end of the third month, traveling via Barkol to Urumchi — that is, Ürümqi — and by the time they arrived it was already the fifth month.

Baatur Khuntaiji had his own affairs to attend to, and Liu Chengzu likewise had a mission of his own to carry out, the first task being to build relay stations.

From Hami to Ürümqi, following the river valleys north of the Eastern Tianshan westward, the distance was a full one thousand five hundred li — this road would become the Oirat Gold Road and, at the same time, the lifeline of the Tianshan Army.

Liu Chengzu therefore planned to establish fifteen relay stations and four cities along this route: Beiting, Mulei, Barkol, and Yizhou.

But that was only a long-term plan; for the moment, Liu Chengzu's energy was entirely focused on how to get his soldiers safely through a winter.

This land had been opened up for farming and military colonies since the Han dynasty, but times had changed — it was now untamed territory where no Han had settled for centuries. The ancient city walls had long since collapsed, and the Tingzhou that lay before Liu Chengzu's eyes was nothing but stretches of broken walls and ruined ramparts.

Fortunately, the hardest part is always the beginning. Liu Chengzong had already led his army into Qinghai and laid a foundation for the Marshal's Headquarters troops. This time they had made even more preparations — building brick kilns one after another on the Beiting city site and raising dugout shelters with practiced ease.

Zhou Riqiang's construction site bustled with intense activity.

From Qinghai to Beiting, this traditional civil official had endured every hardship of the road. At first, his daily fare was fried flour; later it changed to tsampa. After entering Barkol, he ate neither tsampa nor fried flour, but Mongolian fried millet instead.

The journey had filled Zhou Riqiang with a dread of food — now the mere sight of these Marshal's Headquarters specialty staples made him retch.

Liu Chengzu was hardly surprised by this. In the end, people are creatures defined by talent. A talented person may suffer a run of bad luck for a time, but as long as they stay alive, even in an age of earth-shattering turmoil, they will ultimately fare better than most.

Zhou Riqiang was a man who had never known hardship. Even when he went from being Prefect of Ningzhou to Liu Chengzong's Assistant Qinghai Pacification Commissioner and endured a stretch of lean days, it still hardly counted as real suffering.

Among ordinary soldiers, you would never see the kind of retching-at-food symptoms Zhou Riqiang displayed... though of course, that is not to say Liu Chengzong had no problem at all in feeding his troops such fare.

In fact, as far as Liu Chengzu knew, before Liu Chengzong, no one had ever treated these things as staple food. They were snacks for long journeys and emergency field rations for the army.

Only in Liu Chengzong's hands did their army find itself in a perpetual state of emergency, forcing men to grow accustomed to subsisting on such military provisions.

Liu Chengzu, as a commander, had always been an exceedingly particular man. The Tianshan Army he led was officered by men who had all undergone study and training at the New City Academy — they were military academy graduates, and their standards were strict.

They marched faster than normal, and all the extra time was spent on terrain reconnaissance, mapmaking, and strategic planning. The entire army had long been prepared to endure hardship and suffering — after all, every one of the army's seven thousand two hundred men had received Liu Chengzong's promise.

Garrison the frontier for as short as three years or as long as five, and as long as you return alive, a soldier would be promoted to Centurion; an officer would rise three ranks and be granted an honorary title from Upper Fifth Rank to Lower Third Rank.

Three ranks in five years without even fighting a war — for anyone, a promise that could lift even the chickens and dogs to heaven was more than enough to make a man give his all.

In truth, the greatest risk for them was not dying far from home in the Tianshan Mountains, but rather the fear that during these years of frontier service, Liu Chengzong might be destroyed by the imperial court... for then there would be no one left to honor those promises.

Zhou Riqiang was different. Liu Chengzong had made him no promises — in fact, he had no need for Liu Chengzong to tempt him with any promises; he had already pumped himself full of fighting spirit on his own.

Ever since the recapture of Hami, Zhou Riqiang had used spiritual self-motivation to overcome his physical discomfort, brimming with drive the entire journey. Though he said nothing along the way, Liu Chengzu knew that this Confucian scholar, old enough to be his uncle, was filled head to toe with the thrill of expanding the realm's frontiers.

Before he had even reached Tingzhou, he had already drafted a complete set of regulations for building an outpost from scratch — everything from firing bricks, digging wells, and planning roads to building dugout shelters, and then on to constructing waterwheels, irrigating fields, and opening up and nurturing wasteland.

After several days and nights of spirited conversation with Baatur Khuntaiji, Zhou Riqiang had even produced an Oirat version of centralized governance for the Oirat, and had already found a destination for any dissenters: nowhere else — send them all to him, to dig irrigation canals and repair city walls.

Baatur Khuntaiji held Zhou Riqiang in great esteem and followed his advice readily; at this very moment, he was convening the Oirat nobility to proclaim his new policies.

Soon after, just as Liu Chengzu's dugout shelters at Beiting were completed, Dai Daozi, who had accompanied Baatur Khuntaiji to the Dzungar tribe, returned.

Beiting was not yet so bitterly cold, and although the dugout shelters were finished, the Tianshan Army still camped outside in their tents. Dai Daozi made his way straight to Liu Chengzu's general's felt tent and, without a word of explanation, had men start carrying in documents.

Several chests of documents.

Faced with Liu Chengzu's puzzlement, Dai Daozi was not the least bit surprised. He explained, "The Grand Marshal sent us here precisely to win over the Oirat and gather intelligence on the northwest. These are all the Oirat's documents from years of warfare with their neighbors to the east, west, south, and north."

Having said this, Dai Daozi shook his head in frustration and added, "I thought I could just copy them out, but who knew their documents would be in so many different languages? For many of the battle reports, I had to ask elders who personally experienced the fighting, and I couldn't understand what the tribal elders were saying either. A tremendous nuisance."

Liu Chengzu nodded gravely. He took these battle reports very seriously and immediately ordered his trusted guards to sort out the chests of documents, then had someone fetch milk tea for Dai Daozi before saying, "The hardest part is always the beginning. General Dai, your burdens among the Dzungars are far heavier than ours. In the future, when the Oirat lands are organized into counties and instructors are assigned to each county, the situation will gradually improve."

Dai Daozi nodded absently. In truth, both of them knew perfectly well that the monumental task of spreading language and literacy would take three to five years to show any real results, and none of them were likely to still be lingering in the Tianshan Mountains three to five years from now.

But what could he say? Even if it was just a comfort, assigning instructors to the counties was the only comfort they had.

To put it bluntly, even two Oirat men separated by a generation had to talk with their hands just to communicate, let alone a Han like him who only understood the southern desert dialect.

Still, seeing how seriously Liu Chengzu regarded these documents, Dai Daozi felt compelled to caution him: "However, Great General, these documents should only be taken as one avenue of understanding — you absolutely must not rely on them one-sidedly."

Liu Chengzu indicated his understanding of this and nodded. "Even hearsay intelligence is already very good. For anything more precise, we will have to rely on our own eyes in the future."

Comparatively speaking, even more than the documents themselves, Liu Chengzu was interested in Dai Daozi, who possessed secondhand intelligence. He asked, "You mentioned just now that they have fought with neighbors to the east, west, south, and north — who are they?"

Just then, a personal guard brought in the milk tea. Dai Daozi took a sip, retrieved a map from one of the document chests, spread it open, and sat facing Liu Chengzu. He began his briefing: "The Oirat lands are a battleground on all four sides. To the west, the Kazakh Khanate has long contested with them over the Seven Rivers region. To the north, along the lower reaches of the Irtysh River, they have merged with the Tsagan Khanate — that is, the Russ that the Grand Marshal speaks of. To the east lies the powerful Khalkha of the northern desert, and to the south is Yarkand, situated among the desert oases."

"Now, because they have submitted to the Grand Marshal, the Dzungars have made peace with the Khalkha to the east. But we have just seized Hami from Yarkand — one cannot sleep soundly with an enemy at the bedside, so war between the two sides is inevitable sooner or later."

At this, Dai Daozi's hand traced northwest along the Irtysh River on the map, finally stopping at the intersection of Kazakh, Oirat, and Russ spheres of influence. "And right now, the Oirat are already at war with the Kazakhs and the Russ."

Liu Chengzu said in surprise, "Baatur has only been back a month, and they are already at war?"

"It is not that he wanted to fight them — it is that they have already struck at him, and he wants revenge."

Dai Daozi pointed at the intersection zone. "This place is called Yamysh, located on the middle reaches of the Irtysh River. There is a salt lake there. It was originally pastureland of the Dörbet tribe, and the initial conflict between the Oirat and the Russ arose because of this lake."

"Beginning in the forty-fourth year of the Wanli reign, the Dzungar tribe and the Dörbet tribe agreed to jointly defend the salt lake and began fighting the Russ. The war lasted seven years. The two sides made peace eleven years ago, and since then the border has been a case of 'you within me, me within you'... much like the Tümed and the Great Ming after the Altan peace tribute."

The Tümed and the Great Ming after the Altan peace tribute?

Liu Chengzu found this analogy somewhat hard to grasp. "Who is Altan, and who is the Great Ming?"

"The Russ are Altan. The Oirat are the Great Ming."

Dai Daozi actually felt his analogy was remarkably apt.

In this relationship, the Oirat held the dominant position. They occupied all the salt pools and pastures along the upper reaches of the Irtysh River, and had animal husbandry, agriculture, and handicrafts. Although the Oirat's finishing and processing capabilities were poor, they could provide all the most basic necessities of life.

It was like a backward version of the Great Ming.

The Russ, on the other hand, had established outposts on the lower reaches that produced nothing beyond a small amount of grain and had no productive capacity whatsoever. However, the city of Tyumen to the northwest could resell to the Oirat some firearms and precious handicraft goods from Europe.

Just as the Mongols could sell horses in the border markets.

Before the Great Ming and the Mongols maintained their border markets, they had endured prolonged warfare, and the markets only became a product of compromise when neither side wished to fight any longer. The same was true of the Oirat and Russia — virtually all of Baatur Khuntaiji's prestige among the Oirat had been earned through raiding and plundering Russian outposts.

Dai Daozi said, "When the war ended, the two sides made an agreement. The Oirat permitted the Russ to establish outposts on the upper reaches of the Yenisey and Ob Rivers, while Tsarist Russia likewise had to allow Oirat subjects to graze their herds around those outposts."

"Beyond that, the Russ opened the city of Tyumen as a market site. The Oirat provided furs and food, and Tsarist Russia reciprocated with handicraft goods and firearms."

Listening to Dai Daozi's explanation, Liu Chengzu nodded slightly. It sounded as though this agreement held no great disadvantage for the Oirat... He certainly did not think there was any harm in it, because to some degree, his younger brother's pact with the Dzungars was almost a carbon copy of this very agreement.

He asked, "If that were all, they ought to be at peace with one another. Why then are they going to war again now?"

Dai Daozi spread both hands. "Because the Oirat are not yet large enough, and the Kazakh Khanate is also contending for this salt lake. The Russ have not been idle these years. Did the Grand Marshal not say that the Russ are expanding eastward? I have examined some of the Dzungar tribe's documents and also coaxed information out of the Russian slaves in the tribe... It is indeed so."

"They couldn't beat the Dzungar going south, and after negotiating peace they've kept right on expanding. Eastward, they've already set up outposts in the lands north of the northern desert and made contact with the Khalkha. Westward, they've also established ties with the Kazakh Khanate — all three are enemies of the Dzungar."

"And over these years, the Oirat's strength has been shrinking. First, seven years ago, the Dörbet tribe allied with the Dzungar and drove out the Torgut tribe. Then last year, they suffered an unprecedented crushing defeat in Qinghai."

Dai Daozi shook his head, his expression rueful. "If the Grand Marshal weren't so kind-hearted — forty thousand troops marched out and only three thousand came back. In another two years, the Oirat might simply cease to exist."

"Surely it's not that bad?"

Liu Chengzu frowned. "From what I've seen, their population is huge. Losing a few tens of thousands of troops in one bad defeat shouldn't hurt their vitality."

"Their vitality is gravely wounded." Dai Daozi enunciated those four words with great seriousness. "I've read their battle reports over the years. The forces they commit are usually around thirty thousand, and plenty of those were major battles right on their own doorstep. The Qinghai battle practically wiped out their veterans."

"So once word of the front-line defeat got back, both the Kazakhs and the Russians started stirring. Last year, the Kazakh Khan led troops and retook the Seven Rivers. To this day, the Kazakhs are still pasturing their herds on the western stretch of the Ili River."

"The Russians are weak. They first sent envoys to the Oirat to gather intelligence, but didn't get to meet a single noble of any standing. Once they returned, they attacked Oirat subjects pasturing near the salt lakes, and they've closed the city of Tyumen to the Dzungar. Right now, they're trading with the Kazakhs."

As Dai Daozi laid it out, Liu Chengzu gained a rough understanding of the situation the Dzungar tribe now faced. He asked, "Batur wants revenge. He sent you back — does he want the Tianshan Army to help him get it?"

Dai Daozi shook his head. "The Grand General underestimates Batur. My own sense is that he views us much the same way he views the Russians — with wariness."

"Right now, the strength of all the Oirat tribes has fallen sharply. The Dzungar, returning with three thousand veterans, stands alone and supreme. He wants to inherit the Guoshi Khan's ruling khanate. At this moment, the nomadic tribes west of the Altai Mountains are already in complete chaos. They simply don't have the strength to launch a distant campaign against any enemy."

Dai Daozi stood up and rummaged through the documents, pulling out a letter he had written himself. He handed it to Liu Chengzu. "Here — his plan."

Unfolding the letter, Liu Chengzu saw it concerned the restructuring and centralization of Oirat power. The first step was to establish four Myriarchy Departments, each Myriarchy Department governing five Chiliarchy Departments. Liu Chengzu mused to himself — wasn't this just four garrison commands? The four tribal leaders would serve as Myriarchs.

Reading on, the situation changed. One Chiliarchy Department would command a thousand standing troops and govern fifty thousand people.

The Chiliarchs would still be filled by nobles of each tribe, who would retain the wealth of their territories. But the military and civil affairs of each Chiliarchy Department would be handled by a Jaisang dispatched directly from the ruling khanate. Aside from living as wealthy gentlemen, the nobles' only responsibilities would be leading troops on campaign and paying taxes.

Beyond this, the ruling khanate would have a Guard Army of three thousand — precisely the three thousand men the Dzungar tribe had brought back.

In name, this was the Khanate Guard Army. In truth, it was simply Batur Khong Tayiji's personal troops. On this foundation, the Dzungar tribe would hold overwhelming power over the other three Myriarchy Departments.

"The first batch of collected furs and livestock is already on the way. Once the khanate has inventoried them, they can be shipped to Jiayu Pass. As for revenge…"

Dai Daozi smiled. "Batur Khong Tayiji is in no hurry for revenge. He's waiting for the Grand Marshal's equipment to arrive, so he can send them a grand gift."

"Who will he strike first?"

Liu Chengzu estimated the Oirat's military strength after their reorganization. "The Kazakhs or the Russians?"

"The Khong Tayiji intends to smash Tyumen for good this time, cutting off the supply and logistics lines to the Russian outposts to the north and east. First deal with the troublemakers, then have a detailed talk with the Kazakhs."

Listening to this plan, Liu Chengzu slowly nodded. This position was essentially the Russians' soft underbelly. One could foresee fierce enemy counterattacks over the next two years — and that would be the Tianshan Army's moment to shine.

Good evening!