Chapter 659: The Fruits of Victory

Just as the Ming army's Henan Provincial Commander was rubbing his fists, ready to march on Luoyang to find the Marshal's Office's Henan Provincial Commander.

In Xi'an Prefecture, Liu Chengzong was enjoying the fruits of war victory.

The Battle of Monan — in Chongzhen's eyes, this was the most humiliating campaign Liu Chengzong had ever fought in six years of rebellion, ever since he began toppling famed cities and crushing renowned generals.

A rout of utter disgrace.

But for Liu Chengzong, it was the simplest, most enormous victory of his entire military career.

Every inch of the Marshal's Office's territory had been carved out by Lion Liu himself, leading troops with blade and spear to clear the path, seizing it openly and snatching it brazenly, piling up mountains of bones until none in the Northwest dared oppose him — only then, piece by piece, had the Marshal's Office's now-boundless domain been assembled.

Monan alone — Monan, larger than Qinghai and Gansu combined.

It came without the slightest effort.

Yang Qi, a defeated general of no renown.

Erinchen, a jinong stripped of his khan title by Ligdan Khan.

Twenty thousand scattered soldiers and roving braves from the Mobei Mongols — even if the Three Khans themselves led them, they wouldn't dare clash with the Later Jin.

How proud Liu Chengzong was.

Tribes from five hundred li around all drove their livestock and packed their tents, fleeing deep into the Ordos Desert; the main force pulled back along a single route, avoiding battle; the Grand Commandant cowered inside his city, not daring to answer the challenge.

It was a bit undignified, true.

But the process didn't matter.

What Liu Chengzong valued was the outcome. The order he had given Yang Qi and the others was simply this: maintain a presence in Monan.

In other words, as long as Yang Qi and those men stayed alive — alive on the Monan steppe — even if they did nothing at all, they had already fulfilled Liu Chengzong's deployment.

Even Liu Chengzong himself had not anticipated that once he issued thousands of blank checks, the Monan Commandery's Mongol soldiers would be able to launch a long-distance raid and charge straight into the Kharchin territory.

Turning a preeminent tribal state into a field of ashes, very nearly making Kharchin a term of history.

The final result of the campaign: Yang Qi's Monan Commandery not only maintained its presence, but also spread the Marshal's Office's awe-inspiring might across the skies of the Monan steppe.

The Great Ming, the Northern Yuan, the Later Jin, the Three Khans of Mobei — beneath that overshadowing might, all were mere clay chickens and pottery dogs.

No one, no one at all, could shelter the Marshal's Office's enemies in Monan. Kharchin was the example.

What use was all that bluster when you arrived? You always had to go back. Once you went back, I was still here. I am the master of this land.

This was victory — a great victory.

At this point, for Lion Liu, there was only one thing left to consider: how to digest the fruits of this triumph.

Because granting rewards was very difficult.

Having rendered such great merit, it would be improper not to grant rewards.

But granting rewards brought up another problem: the official posts he had given Yang Qi and the others back then, even the appointments of those chiliarchs and myriarchs in Monan — all of those were, in truth, rewards that should only have been granted after the campaign.

Which is to say, they were already at the maximum rank.

Moreover, Yang Qi and Erinchen, the two men who had contributed the most in this campaign, both shared a problem: they had no sons.

Yang Qi's son had died years earlier while garrisoning Shanhai Pass; Erinchen's son had died during a fight with Ligdan Khan.

In all the years since, their lives had been the same — drifting and displaced amid the flames of war, neither had had the leisure to worry about siring heirs.

So much so that granting hereditary rank was extremely difficult.

Fortunately, however, Liu Chengzong, having entered Guanzhong, was at the richest point in his life, and at the same time faced a fair number of problems.

So it worked out perfectly — use one problem to solve another.

His rewards were also very generous. First, he granted Yang Qi five thousand taels of silver, along with ten thousand mu of farmland and ten thousand mu of pastureland in Jingning Subprefecture, plus armor, a treasured saber, fine horses, and garments.

At the same time, two male relatives from the younger generation of Yang Qi's family in his hometown of Lanzhou were selected to enter the Feathered Forest Camp, with the rank of Commandant conferred upon them.

Correspondingly, for Shatau Taiji, He Huchen, Wang Cheng'en, and the officers of various ranks who had accompanied the army on the Monan expedition, the scale of rewards decreased step by step, with farmland and pastureland granted in places like Jingning Subprefecture and Guyuan Subprefecture.

Because those places were empty of people. Whether farmland or pastureland, all had long since been abandoned. In the entire Shaanxi, apart from Guanzhong, everywhere lacked people, and there was no way to carry out migration either.

After all, migration is not simply a matter of taking people who can't get enough to eat in one place and moving them somewhere else so they can eat their fill.

In reality, moving them out only ensures that the other place won't have enough to eat either.

The reason is simple: in an ancient agrarian society, the Engel coefficient was far too high.

Take, for example, the period after the Wanli era of the Great Ming, when silver became the primary monetary unit.

An ordinary person, working as a day laborer or a porter or a peddler, could easily earn ten taels of silver a year.

They did the most ordinary, most common work, and received the most ordinary, most common wages.

This made ten taels of silver seem like not very much money.

Yet in this same era, a household with twenty taels in fixed assets and wealth was considered a family of middling means.

This can seem very strange — how is it that, setting aside the house, the livestock, and a few mu of land, a household's total wealth is still less than one person's annual wages from working outside?

Because the commodity economy was highly developed, stretching society to a breaking point of tension.

Earning ten taels of silver a year was simple, but that did not mean he could use those ten taels to buy anything of significant value.

The reason is the same as for this great uprising of the Ming: people have to eat.

This person would have to spend nine taels just to feed himself. Hence the old saying: a man cannot grow rich without windfall wealth — because when income is below the basic subsistence level, it is fundamentally impossible to save money.

This great uprising, at its very beginning, had nothing to do with peasants.

When drought came and grain prices doubled, the proper farmers of Shaanxi, so long as they did not encounter man-made calamity, were most likely still in their fields, honestly scratching a living from the soil.

But because those who lived on purchased grain were already on the verge of starving to death — Liu Chengzong, the soldier who ate from his pay; Zhang Xianzhong, the runner who ate from his rations; Li Zicheng, the courier who ate from his post; Wang Ziyong, who lived by his craft... these men could not get food, and so they rose in rebellion.

Migration is tantamount to moving away these people who live hand-to-mouth, or turning those who scratch a living from the soil into refugees.

Not only does it fail to solve the problem, it creates new demographic problems.

People with no food to eat are one hundred percent tethered to the land. Even if they turn to murder and robbery as bandits, they can only be stationary brigands.

If they had even the provisions to eat on the road, they would never have become refugees or bandits in the first place.

Only by sending people who have food to eat to places where there is food to eat can migration succeed.

In places like Jingning Subprefecture, where there was land but no people, Liu Chengzong could hardly direct migration — the cost was too great.

But granting the land to officers who had earned merit in Monan changed the situation entirely. They had money and men; once the land was bestowed, whether they settled wounded soldiers or had their families manage it, they could put the fields to use.

Every bit put to use was a gain.

As for the Monan Mongol military households who had contributed great strength, Liu Shizi was not stingy either, though rewarding them was far simpler.

On the Mongol steppe, what thing was most precious?

Grazing land.

Liu Chengzong specially dispatched a unit from Xining and reactivated Gao Xian, who had been idle for a long time.

And for him he assembled stewards of the Khan's Court Ordo, cartographers from the New City Academy, young student apprentices from the Children's Camp, and officers from two companies of the Plumed Forest Camp, forming a work team of very strong composite ability.

Gao Xian received his transfer order in New City and was immensely excited, immediately rushing without pause to Xi'an Prefecture.

The moment he reached Xi'an Prefecture and saw Grand Marshal Liu, his face fell at once. "This... this is going to Monan?"

Gao Xian was a genuine old-timer of the Marshal's Headquarters. After leaving Yuhé Fort, he had mingled with Liu Chengzong day in and day out.

At Pingliang, fighting Cao Wenzhao's Guanning Army, he had been injured by a warhorse. Because there were so many wounded at the time, many stayed behind in Pingliang, and Gao Xian likewise remained there as a sentry commander of the Lion Camp, missing the founding period of the Marshal's Headquarters.

Yet like other old-timers such as Hu Sanhuai, although Gao Xian from Pingliang to Qinghai no longer led troops, his military rank still rose with the expanding framework of the Marshal's Headquarters; his provisions, clothing, and stipend were all at the treatment of a Regional Commander.

But Gao Xian's situation differed from those two Regional Commanders, Hu Sanhuai and Wu Yangchen, who were specifically protecting Liu Chengyun and Shi Chengwo. Others were howling to fight, whereas Gao Xian simply went along with Liu Chengzong's arrangements and was in no hurry for promotion.

Because he had married into the Han Prince's household, and the dowry was very generous.

His father-in-law was a Defender-General of State of the Han cadet branch, a great-grandson of Han Prince Ding. Unable to bear how the Han Prince tried every means to squeeze money from his relatives, he had employed a strategy of driving the tiger to swallow the wolf and married his youngest daughter, who had yet to receive a title of nobility from the imperial court, to Gao Xian, who was recovering from wounds in Pingliang.

In terms of seniority, Gao Xian was now the uncle-by-marriage of the young Han Prince.

However, because his first wife had been separated from him in the drought and chaos years earlier, his mental state was deeply troubled. The better his life became, the stronger his sense of guilt grew. His whole person bore an air of striving toward death — he was weary of living.

"I know you haven't been idle these past few years, but there's no need to go as an envoy to the Later Jin. Live your life well."

Liu Chengzong looked at Gao Xian, his gaze complicated.

These last few years, all the old brothers had been leading troops in battle. Ever since Gao Xian learned that Liu Chengzong wanted him to serve as envoy to the Later Jin, he had not been idle either.

At first, when he arrived in Qinghai, things were fairly normal. He had two children, used his new wife's dowry to purchase some fields and pastureland in the Yaoshui River valley near New City, and recruited some veterans retired from the battlefield to manage the family estate.

But he himself spent every day studying, gorging himself, tempering his strength, and honing his skills.

He even requested a hundred-man guard unit from the Old Master, with their pay and provisions drawn from the supplies the Marshal's Headquarters allocated to the New City Academy. Day in and day out, they drilled in forced marches, sabotage raids, demolitions, poisoning, and the like.

So much so that while the generals of the Marshal's Headquarters who went to the battlefield each shed more flesh than the next, Gao Xian had fattened himself up stout and strong, his whole frame bulking out by two full circles.

Even fearing that Hong Taiji might not understand, he had specially refined his Mongol speech and learned a great many curses he could wield with proficiency.

Gao Xian was truly holding himself to the standard of an envoy. He had clearly read books and studied the experiences of envoys of former times.

It was just that the books he read were probably somewhat off.

After Liu Chengzong looked into it, he concluded that the model Gao Xian was studying might be that sort of Han envoy whose working style was domineering and overbearing, and whose working attitude was a one-way trip — expend one envoy to obtain a pretext for war.

With that mental state, Liu Shizi dared not send him off as an envoy to the Later Jin.

Going over there to pull off a light-cavalry beheading of a Khan was one thing, but the key point was there was no such need.

The reason envoys in the time of the Great Han acted that way was that the old ancestors who had charged out of the age of barbarism had seized world hegemony, and the order of international diplomacy was being built from nothing. Envoys were all imperial attendants, and their domineering arrogance abroad was precisely aimed at stirring up trouble, which subsequently established the diplomatic rule that killing a Han envoy meant the destruction of your kingdom.

But that method, to the Marshal's Headquarters where mad dogs ran everywhere, was clearly too civilized.

The Marshal's Headquarters had the whole world as its enemy. Of the surrounding powers, every last one had either long been beaten into submission or was in the process of being beaten. Where was there an opponent who needed a pretext for war?

From the Changbai Mountains to the Tianshan Mountains, every person was a slave to famine and cold.

Needing a pretext to go to war, and having to throw in an envoy on top of it — how novel.

"You don't need to throw yourself away. Take those people to Monan, draw the maps, and assist Commissioner Yang in properly dividing the territory and grazing lands for the twenty-three households — that will be a great deed of merit."

Liu Chengzong spoke of this matter to Gao Xian with extreme gravity, saying, "This is not an easy task. If it is not done well, this campaign in Monan will have been fought for nothing."

This was the true division of the fruits of victory.

Gao Xian nodded heavily and said, "I understand. Dividing the grazing lands — there will still be fighting, won't there?"

"A major battle likely cannot be fought this year, but small clashes will be hard to avoid. Don't worry about that. Once the land is in hand, the Twenty-Three Tribes won't spit it back out. If there's a need to fight, then fight."

Liu Chengzong's speculation on this front mainly involved the Khalkha border nobles of the Three Khans of Mobei, as well as the remnant forces of the Kharchin.

The Mobei forces were very powerful and would likely be tempted by the unclaimed grazing lands in Monan. Liu Chengzong estimated they would stir up some minor clashes with Yang Qi.

Even if conflict truly broke out, however, Liu Shizi was quite optimistic about the prospects of the Monan Protectorate. Those three houses in Mobei were not of one mind and could accomplish nothing major.

In comparison, he still felt that the remnant troops of the Kharchin would bring Yang Qi greater trouble.

Though they had only a few hundred riders left, at most capable of playing the role of steppe bandits and horse raiders in eastern Monan, it was precisely for that reason that their roving sabotage was hard to pin down.

Liu Chengzong was an expert in roving sabotage, so he certainly understood this point.

Bandit suppression, bandit suppression — the difficulty lay not in the suppression, but in first finding where the bandits were.

Before Gao Xian had even set out for Monan, however, Yang Qi had already sent spoils of war back from Monan to Xi'an Prefecture.

In the Battle of Guihua City, the Later Jin army had stormed the city in rage and left behind some weapons and armor. Yang Qi had selected several full sets of infantry and cavalry gear, packed them up, and sent them to Liu Chengzong.

The man leading the escort back to deliver the goods was Regional Commander Bai Wenxuan, with over a hundred riders and several carts under guard.

Bai Wenxuan did not even remove his armor upon reaching Xi'an Prefecture before coming to see Liu Chengzong. Entering Huayan Temple, where the central army of the Marshal's Headquarters was stationed, he saw Liu Chengzong, Zhang Xianzhong, and the Han Prince all present.

He first saluted Liu Chengzong, then saluted Zhang Xianzhong, and then glanced at the Han Prince with his nostrils. "Grand Marshal, Vice Marshal, your humble subordinate has delivered, under orders, eight sets of Later Jin army armor, three army horses, two hunting hounds, and two prisoners with their escorts. They have arrived at the central army camp."

"Well done."

Liu Chengzong said it offhandedly. He actually had little interest in Later Jin army armor.

In this age, all across the land, including the Marshal's Headquarters, from the Oirat, Northern Yuan, and Later Jin to Joseon, the fundamentals of armor were largely the same as Ming army armor in specification — basically just items with a touch of exotic decoration.

He was far more interested in the men and the dogs, so he asked, "What is the story with the prisoners?"

"The man was wearing double armor and is extremely robust. On the battlefield, he was clubbed senseless by a wooden post from the city defenses on the rampart. After he woke, we couldn't communicate, and we thought he had been hammered stupid. But it turns out he can train dogs."

Bai Wenxuan let out a simple, foolish laugh. "Seems he's not stupid after all, just doesn't know the civilized tongue and can't communicate. We asked other banner-slave prisoners, and it seems he's called something like Fish-Skin Tatar or some such strange name — the Tatars caught him by the river."

"There is also a Khorchin man who can barely understand a few words he says and also speaks Mongol. Commissioner Yang had them both sent over, along with three Liaodong hounds, for the Grand Marshal to keep as dogs. The other prisoners and wounded soldiers were all killed."

Having said that, he asked Liu Chengzong, "By the way, Marshal, Grand Commandant Yang sent me to inquire — over six hundred enemy heads were taken in the Southern Desert. Does the Marshal want them?"

Liu Chengzong laughed. "What would I do with those things? Tell him to sell them to the Great Ming."