Chapter 761: Black Banner

The Marshal's Office of Rites and the Ming Ministry of Rites both took issue with Liu Chengzong's stele inscription.

Zhang Xianzhong and Qian Shisheng felt the wording and phrasing needed further discussion.

Qian Shisheng was simply going along with whatever Zhang Xianzhong said, because he figured that even if Liu Chengzong didn't do it, this was Zhang Xianzhong's job anyway.

Having robbed the man of a chance to leave his name in history, his conscience weighed on him — so no matter what Zhang Xianzhong said, as long as he got to write the inscription, the old man could accept anything.

Zhang Xianzhong, for his part, simply thought Liu Chengzong's inscription was too plain and lacked grandeur.

In the eyes of the Minister of Rites, this was a battle for the dynastic name — the legitimate, righteous, and openly glorious Daiching Khan had defeated the petty scoundrels who had stolen the name Daiching Gurun!

As for the Chongzhen bingzi year, that battle had nothing to do with him — there was absolutely no need to drag Chongzhen along for the ride.

It should be changed to: "In the third year of the Great Qing, the Grand Marshal, Daiching Khitan Khan, defeated the Chongde Emperor here!"

If necessary, they could even add Chechen Chinggis before Daiching Khitan Khan.

But Liu Chengzong was stubborn in his thinking — though he was in the highest of spirits and his tone was gentler by three degrees, he still refused to gild the lily: "Use the Chongzhen reign title, my name, and the Jin state's designation to write the inscription."

"This battle was fought by all under heaven, for all under heaven. Under heaven, there is only one emperor — there is no place for Chongde."

"As for honorific titles, they are even more superfluous. Dharma King and Bodhisattva, Supreme Commander and Grand Coordinator, Lhazun Taiji, Chongzhen and Chongde, Ancient Origin True Dragon, State Preceptor and Khan, and the petty kings everywhere — which one of them is not a defeated foe beneath my hand?"

Liu Chengzong looked around at everyone and asked, "Even if crowned with the insulting name of Foolish Khan, which of them can compare in majesty to the three words Liu Chengzong?"

Zhang Xianzhong had nothing more to say — Liu Chengzong truly was majestic.

The two words "Foolish Khan" alone could scare the piss out of people.

Qian Shisheng opened his mouth but said nothing — he hadn't expected Liu Chengzong to have actually heard the term Foolish Khan.

Actually, this was a misunderstanding. In the private letters passed among the capital's high officials, no one wrote that — but the old man dared not speak the truth... they usually called him the Northwest Fool.

Still, Qian Shisheng reckoned that once word of this victory reached the capital and shook the realm, no one would ever dare use such terms for Liu Chengzong again.

Dudu was summoned.

After being captured by Subadi, Liu Chengzong had ignored him completely, only ordering the Feathered Forest Cavalry to keep him under strict guard. Only after the campaign ended did he finally receive a summons.

At Liu Chengzong's central command, Dudu, like Qian Shisheng, had witnessed with his own eyes the entire process of the Chongde Emperor's defeat — and those three mounds of heads.

Upon suddenly hearing the summons, he was terrified.

Truly — it was only at this moment that he suddenly recalled a fact he had long forgotten.

The Great Ming was a far more savage existence than his grandfather or his uncles.

Dudu had grown up reading the Four Books and Five Classics and the Romance of the Three Kingdoms; his level of education was no less than Hong Taiji's.

In truth, he had never considered people like them — captives, Tatars — to be savage. No, they simply had no choice.

When they shaved their heads in Liaoyang, it was keep your hair or lose your head.

True savagery, on the other hand, was a method only civilization could choose.

Wherever Ming troops passed beyond the frontier, no one kept their head.

For a time, Dudu had thought Liu Chengzong intended to take his head as well.

Trembling with fear, he made his way to the central command and found Liu Chengzong originally seated in a folding chair reading a book. Hearing the announcement, Liu Chengzong looked up as he approached and asked, his expression perfectly normal, "You are the eldest grandson of the Jin state's Old Khan?"

The Han tongue he had learned as a child — Dudu had nearly forgotten it all. Extremely nervous, he performed a bow and prostrated himself, nodding in acknowledgment.

Liu Chengzong put away the roster of fallen soldiers' life stories in his palm and asked further, "Rise, there's no need to keep prostrating yourself. Why are you called Dudu?"

For a moment, Dudu did not understand what Liu Chengzong meant. He could only stand and answer truthfully, "When I was born, my grandfather held the official post of Commander-in-Chief."

This was a matter of changing times.

When he was born, Nurhaci was still a barbarian official trading with imperial patents, killing the Ningguta garrison officer and sending fifty corpses to Liaodong for verification. He had been jointly recommended by the Ming Supreme Commander of Ji-Liao, the Grand Coordinator of Liaodong, the Regional Commander of Liaodong, and the Grand Coordinator of Shandong, to be used to control the eastern barbarians and serve as a fence.

Receiving rewards, holding an official post, conducting trade — why wouldn't he be happy to do so?

It was perfectly normal for Dudu to be called Commander-in-Chief.

But when Nurhaci did the job of "controlling the eastern barbarians and serving as a fence" exceptionally well, while Ming Liaodong itself did its job exceptionally poorly, it was perfectly normal for him to rise in rebellion.

Sichuan was run terribly — Yang Yinglong and She Chongming rose in rebellion for the same reason.

After the rebellion, with enemy and self distinct, Dudu could no longer be called Commander-in-Chief.

It had to carry a different meaning — like "inheriting the ancestral flaw," implying the man was rotten from his ancestral roots.

If Hong Taiji had asked him this, he would have answered fluently: "It means turtledove."

But at this moment, as a captive, what hellish sights had he seen along the entire journey?

Severed heads piled like mountains, vultures circling in the sky, blood soaking deep into the sand — the grit the wind blew onto his face might well have been red.

Those soldiers from Shaanxi, bronzed shoulders bared, had torn off their white armor and were riveting plates onto their red armor, tossing silver ingots at each other in play, galloping wildly with laughter on their Liaodong horses, wielding goose-quill sabers forged by the Later Jin and shooting great laminated bows and large arrows made by them.

From time to time, golden-winged great birds swooped down from the sky, snatched up heads but couldn't take flight again, and shrugged and hopped with hands behind their backs across the Gobi, dodging the soldiers.

And there were the Eight Banners' great standards at the central command, the Chongde Emperor's full imperial regalia.

Dudu felt it was still better to be called Commander-in-Chief.

Great Marshal, your discernment is clear — though I was born in the remote borderlands of Liaodong, I yearned for the Kingly Transformation even in my mother's womb!

Liu the Lion had actually just asked casually. He changed the subject: "Which banner did you command?"

To this, Dudu answered rather quickly: "Bordered White!"

But to his surprise, upon hearing this, Liu Chengzong drew a sharp breath: "Ah, then you... then you're in a bad way. The Bordered White Battalion — it was broken the moment battle was joined. There aren't even many prisoners."

"That Bordered White Banner was the old Jianzhou. My Bordered White was the Hada tribe — it's now the Bordered Yellow Banner personally commanded by the Chongde Emperor."

In truth, the moment Liu the Lion had heard Dudu say earlier that he commanded the Bordered White, he was already laughing inside.

The Later Jin Old Khan's eldest son was dead, his eldest grandson had fallen into his own hands, and his main force had been wiped out — even if he went back, he'd have no troops. This was already very good.

Now hearing this, it turned out this Dudu had his White Banner seized by Hong Taiji — there was even a bit of old resentment between him and Hong Taiji.

Liu the Lion could barely keep the corners of his mouth down. Summoning all his strength, he managed to put on a slightly disdainful look, furrowing his brow: "I thought the Old Khan's eldest grandson would surely be of great use... so you have no troops?"

It cut deep.

Dudu truly had no troops — not only no troops, not even a niru company, only a few household slaves rewarded for battle merits.

Living in Shengjing, he relied entirely on managing affairs under Yoto's Bordered Red Banner to scrape together a pittance; every New Year and festival he'd hope Huang Taiji would bestow clothes and jewels on his relatives.

The nobles of the Aisin clan wallowed in extravagance, but Dudu was the poorest of them all.

What he feared most wasn't the battlefield, but weddings and funerals among his relatives... the pearls and silks Huang Taiji granted at festivals he'd pinch and hoard, not daring to use them, saving them as gifts for his relatives' weddings and funerals.

Now Liu Chengzong's breezy remark — "So that means no troops" — sounded to him like he had no value and was about to be put to the knife.

Dudu was so stung that his shame-fueled rage nearly overwhelmed his fear of Liu Chengzong.

He thought, so what if I'm poor? Huh?

Does being poor mean I deserve to die?

But before Dudu could erupt, Liu Chengzong sighed and said, "The Tiancong Khan, your uncle by reckoning — why does he treat you so shabbily?"

Dudu said nothing.

A moment ago he had nearly jumped up to argue with Liu Chengzong, to prove he had deep ties to every banner and was very useful.

But once Liu Chengzong said this, Dudu was no fool — he figured out Liu Chengzong's aim.

It wasn't to kill him, but to try to turn him.

This, instead, calmed him down, and he did not answer Liu Chengzong's question.

Silence, too, is an answer.

Who didn't know the reason for the favoritism? It was simply because Dudu was the eldest grandson.

"No answer?"

Liu Chengzong smiled, waved a hand outward, and said, "Then there's no point in you staying here. I'm in a good mood today, so I'll let it pass. If you can't be of use to me, next time you stay silent, I can't guarantee I won't kill you. So go on back."

"If you think life under Huang Taiji is comfortable, then pick out a few sets of armor, a few warhorses, take some cattle, sheep, and dry rations, choose a hundred guards from the captives, and leave. Next year we'll meet on the battlefield — then life and death will be up to heaven."

Dudu stood frozen on the spot.

His mind went completely blank.

Truth be told, after being captured, he had never considered serving Liu Chengzong. Even when he witnessed Daiching's defeat with his own eyes, he had only been afraid.

When he even realized Liu Chengzong wanted to turn him, a rebellious impulse rose up, and he had been ready to simply end it all here.

Yet now, when Liu Chengzong laid out terms and was willing to let him leave, Dudu hesitated instead.

If he wasn't released, what he had to consider was an unfamiliar environment in the Marshal's Manor, an unknown life and fate... people like the familiar and hate the unknown.

But if he was to be released, what Dudu had to consider was life back in Shengjing.

Keep working under Yoto's Bordered Red Banner?

After this capture, and then being released by Liu Chengzong, wouldn't Huang Taiji be suspicious of him when he returned? Then he might not even be able to live the wretched life he'd had before.

Besides, even if he wanted to go back, he couldn't go back at this moment.

After this defeat, the power structure in Shengjing was bound to be in chaos for a while. Given his status as eldest grandson, the political environment might not be any safer than staying with Liu Chengzong.

At least for now, it seemed Liu Chengzong had no intention of killing him.

Thinking about it in reverse this way, Dudu's stubborn resistance wasn't so firm anymore.

Being a pauper had its advantages.

If the captive had been someone like Amin, Ajige, or Dorgon — ambitious, holding power and commanding troops — Liu Chengzong would certainly have killed them if they didn't surrender.

But Dudu... you could say he was important, it seemed he was.

Yet if you really asked where he was important, he was pretty useless.

Kill him on the spot, and the Later Jin state would suffer no loss whatsoever — it might even count as helping Huang Taiji deal with a nuisance.

Send him back, and the strength of the Later Jin's Eight Banners wouldn't increase by a fraction.

Chicken ribs.

In just this brief moment, Liu Chengzong watched Dudu's expression shift from silence to wavering, and finally he simply prostrated himself and declared, "Reporting to the Great Khan, I have served the state with all my might — I am a man of merit without fault. Yet His Majesty has never trusted or employed me. If the Great Khan takes pity on my ability and strength and grants me troops, Dudu is willing to serve on the field of battle!"

The bottom card was out.

"Ha ha ha!"

Liu Chengzong laughed heartily, but remained seated without moving. Raising an eyebrow, he asked, "Think it through — you're not going back? Once you come with me to Shaanxi, there'll be no room for regret. While I'm still letting you go now, you'd better consider it carefully."

Dudu thought to himself, I've already said the words — what's the point of considering it carefully now?

What would really happen if he went back? To begin with, the Chongde Emperor wouldn't put him in an important position.

Even if he really did, Daiching was clearly a lost cause.

The future situation was predictable: defense against the north in summer... no, defense against the Grand Marshal's Manor in summer, defense against the Great Ming in winter, defense against Dongjiang Garrison all year round — nothing would get done the whole year through.

The key point was, defending against the Great Ming was still manageable; Dongjiang Garrison was petty thievery, a constant bleeding; but Liu Chengzong's army had the bearing of the Liaodong Ming troops from the early Wanli years — they truly couldn't be beaten.

This battle had broken Dudu's backbone.

From the time his grandfather Nurhaci left behind his armor and pledged loyalty to the Great Ming, attacking and raiding the various Jurchen tribes, to establishing the Later Jin and rebelling against the Great Ming, and even now with Huang Taiji proclaiming himself emperor — never had they suffered such a massive loss.

What could he do by going back to Shengjing? In the foreseeable political struggle, he wasn't a banner lord and didn't even have a niru — he couldn't get involved at all. And because of his status as eldest grandson, someone might fault him with crimes, bringing sudden deadly disaster.

No one understood Daiching's laws better than Dudu.

Eight words: existing in name only, harsh but not strict.

If Huang Taiji wanted, framing someone for a crime was easy, and with even a slight offense, once sent to the Ministry of Justice for deliberation, the deliberation would be a death sentence.

This had historical reasons — a leftover problem from Dudu's grandfather Nurhaci. Huang Taiji wanted to change it, but couldn't.

When the old Khan attacked the various Jurchen tribes, he had neither money nor grain, nor even status. Relying on personal valor, from mounted combat to full-scale war, he roused his soldiers' fighting spirit through a system of converting merit into silver.

This was also different from the Liaodong troops. The Liaodong troops could directly exchange heads for rewards; getting an official post wasn't easy, but as long as it was a genuine enemy head, exchanging it for reward money was very easy.

But the old Khan's troops out in the field couldn't guarantee that a corpse they brought back would actually be recognized by the Liaodong side.

So they had to resort to a futures-based silver merit-recording system.

To manage the soldiers and civilians, mistakes were severely punished — the slightest error meant ears and noses cut off, mouths slit, eyes gouged out; major errors meant direct execution.

And to win people over, on the foundation of severe punishment for mistakes, they created the silver merit-recording system, a method of using silver to offset crimes.

On the battlefield, minor nobles who distinguished themselves were granted a niru for greater merit, becoming feudal lords; soldiers who earned merit or were wounded would have it converted into silver.

It wasn't actual silver handed out — back then the Old Khan didn't have that much silver either — it was simply a unit for recording merit.

There were distinctions between arrow wounds, blunt weapon wounds, and stab wounds, as well as gradations based on the Old Khan's personal favor — roughly, being wounded once in a battle was recorded as two to five taels.

This could be converted into silver to offset crimes, and could even commute a death sentence.

This is also why, after Hong Taiji succeeded the throne, even for imperial clan nobles, the Ministry of Justice would periodically sentence them to death when they committed offenses — because everyone knew they couldn't actually be killed, and if the punishment wasn't written as severe, there was no way to handle it.

The problems left behind by the Old Khan meant wars grew ever more frequent, punishments on paper grew ever harsher, yet enforcement grew ever looser.

Because as the Later Jin incursions increased in number, now people not only had silver taels recorded in the merit ledgers, they also had real gold and silver in their pockets to offset crimes.

This further ensured that all punishments could only be recorded at maximum severity.

Only bondservant slaves, women, wives, and concubines could be killed at a word under this legal system. Sometimes when a man committed an offense and couldn't be killed, they would execute his wife on the grounds that she failed to dissuade him, to offset the crime.

One could even say that this system of punishments and rewards shaped the success of Nurhaci's establishment of the Jin state.

It likewise forced Hong Taiji to transition toward a bureaucratic system and imperial framework, because the Old Khan had already squeezed every last drop of potential from this reward system designed for a feudal noble alliance.

When Liaodong rose in rebellion over the head-shaving order, it was a time of crisis for the Old Khan. Back then, in order to reward his generals, the value of this silver-converted merit system had already collapsed.

In earlier days, an old soldier or minor noble who fought bravely through several battles and survived, bearing four or five wounds on his body, would have only about twenty taels of crime-offsetting merit.

But at that time, Nurhaci even recorded crime-offsetting merit of over two thousand taels for some men.

By Hong Taiji's era, the old soldiers' recorded merit silver still hadn't been used up — on the contrary, it had grown even larger. Was this not, in a sense, collecting a blood tax fifty years in advance?

Hong Taiji could not solve it.

Others had silver merit to offset crimes, making them extremely difficult to kill. Once they no longer feared death, how could you make them earn merit?

This was also one of the reasons why, during Hong Taiji's reign, punishments grew harsher and more frequent, while the quality of the Eight Banners' fighting strength — aside from those who died in battle — still declined markedly.

Motivation had fallen.

Equal merit with unequal reward, equal crime with unequal punishment — this problem remains unsolved to this day, and cannot be solved; it can only run through the entire span of the Aisin State.

This system was originally designed to serve the Aisin nobility: as long as one had merit, even committing a crime would not result in execution.

Yet it was peculiarly effective at restraining Dudu.

Because Dudu truly had no money. Fabricate any charge, have several nobles commit it together, the Ministry of Justice deliberates, and sentences them to death.

The Emperor then pardons them, and in consideration of the nobles' arduous service and high merit, merely fines them one thousand taels of silver.

Everyone else was a banner lord — they paid the silver and that was the end of it.

Dudu was a pauper lord — it was the end of him.

And here, under Liu Chengzong, at least on the surface, the Mongols and Han soldiers all seemed to be living quite well.

Dudu reflected to himself that his spoken Chinese and Mongolian were both quite good, and he was accustomed to dealing with Han army generals and Mongol nobles. If Liu Chengzong sincerely accepted him, his prospects might well be better than in Liaodong.

At the very least… a place where even common soldiers could toss around silver bars for fun — surely it wouldn't let him suffer poverty again?

"I report to the Great Khan — I have thought it through!"

"Ha ha ha! Good!"

Liu Chengzong clapped, laughed heartily, and rose. He waved to Zhang Yong and Li Qifeng, who stood in attendance at his side: "Go take down that Bordered White Banner standard, dye it black with ink, then go to the Clan Camp and fetch a length of python satin — tie it around Dudu's forehead."

Having said this, he addressed Dudu: "Your Chinese is quite good. Now that you are willing to serve me, I hereby appoint you to the post of Colonel of the Black Banner Camp. Troops and horses will be replenished once we return to Shaanxi; armor, horses, weapons, and equipment will be treated the same as all the other camps."

"For now, however, the first thing you must do is accompany Minister Zhang of the Rites Office to tally the captives, inspect and verify the heads taken, and do your utmost to identify every person's place of origin and what post they held under Daiqing — report it all!"

?? Good evening!

? (End of Chapter)