Chapter 1381: Grief-Stricken

1381. Chapter 1381: Grief-Stricken

It was entirely possible that villages in Shandong and the Jiangbei region of South Zhili had been massacred. Word had long circulated that this Zhao Jin had an exceedingly murderous nature — around Xuzhou, he would slaughter entire villages and stockades at the slightest provocation, leaving mountains of corpses and seas of blood. It seemed all too true.

How could the realm possibly fare well falling into the hands of such a savage beast of a man? What could come of it falling to someone who butchers lives for hollow fame? Even if it were a mantis trying to stop a chariot, one still had to make the attempt to block his path.

Nowadays, the capital turned a blind eye to many things, and no one was so stubborn as to obstruct others seeking a way out or a fallback. When these few young officials from the Ministry of War left the capital, no one paid them any mind at all. It was only a few older, seasoned men who sighed incessantly, saying that they themselves were too old, but these young ones still had hope of fighting for wealth and rank in a new dynasty.

The truth, of course, was not like that. Such confidential matters were not something those young Ministry of War officials would speak of openly. Although they had not been exposed to much, they had more or less heard rumors of the hidden influence the Zhao family army wielded within the capital. Before the great undertaking was accomplished, it was best to keep their lips sealed.

These hot-blooded young men had made many preparations. For instance, if the matter were exposed, someone would deliver a secret letter to Sun Chuanting, the Grand Coordinator of Datong and Shanxi. For instance, they had sought out veterans who had fled back from Liaodong — men who had actually seen the heads of Jianzhou Jurchens and possessed that experience. They had also specifically consulted an old clerk in the Ministry of War who verified severed heads. That old clerk was vastly experienced and explained everything clearly, from the eye sockets to the teeth. Yet just as he finished, he added a quip: "The fake is also real; why take it so seriously?" This nearly made the young Presented Scholars erupt on the spot, but they forcibly restrained themselves.

The young fraud-investigators from the Ministry of War made their preparations, disguised themselves, and arrived in the Tianjin area. Busy with their affairs in and around the capital, they had rarely visited places like Tianjin. They had assumed that after falling into rebel hands, this place would surely be one where the people could not survive, perhaps even a barren wasteland. To their surprise, it was completely unchanged. According to someone who had visited before, it even seemed somewhat more prosperous than before — though no one responded to that remark.

The area where the skull-pyramid was displayed lay several dozen li outside the city of Tianjin. By the time these young officials arrived, the site of the skull-pyramid had already become something of a scenic spot, with all manner of people coming and going in an endless stream.

Although the nearby residents and common folk were generally timid, they held no particular taboo against a harmless skull-pyramid like this one. The Great Ming realm had been at peace for so long — when had anyone ever seen a skull-pyramid, let alone one made of nearly ten thousand barbarian heads, complete with displayed armor and clothing? In the past, they had only heard within the passes about the Jianzhou Jurchens beyond the border, but had never seen them. Coming to broaden their horizons was a good thing.

But these young officials from the Ministry of War spotted many familiar faces. There were senior clerks still serving in the Ministry of War, recently retired former officials, people from other government offices who had once served in the Ministry of War, old soldiers of Liaodong garrison origin, and even the personal guards of Senior Grand Secretary Sun Chengzong.

Though these people came from different origins, they all shared one commonality: every one of them knew how to tell whether a severed head was real or fake. And no matter how one judged, with so very many people present, only one conclusion could be drawn — it was not just one faction that wanted to know the authenticity of these heads. But how many factions were there under heaven? The Great Ming court, the Xuzhou Zhao Jin... what other party needed to know? The young officials suddenly deeply regretted coming here.

No matter how they had been cured, with so many heads laid out, the stench was unbearable. Outside, people had even started businesses selling scented pills and face-covering cloths. Yet those who knew how to inspect heads still pressed inward, heedless of the toil.

Moreover, at every entrance through the palisade, notices were openly and boldly posted: if one wished to inspect the heads inside the skull-pyramid at close range, so long as one covered the labor costs, they would help you move and examine them. Even if you wanted to see the very innermost, the very bottommost head of the pyramid, someone would help you dig it out.

They truly were not afraid of scrutiny. This also dispelled any suspicion that the inside might differ from the outside. It did, however, cause those young men who had come here burning with righteous indignation to waver inwardly. They thought to themselves: with such confidence, could it be that these are not fakes after all?

Guessing was useless; in the end, they still had to inspect them personally. In truth, the people sent by other parties were even more meticulous than these young officials. Some had long since paid to have the pyramids dismantled one by one, and throughout the process, they continuously picked out heads at random for examination.

At first, the scene was very quiet, but later, the inspection site grew clamorous.

"It's real!"

"It really is real!"

"These really are barbarian heads!"

Many people could not help but cry out in astonishment as they examined them. As the inspections continued, the cries of astonishment grew louder and louder, and then gradually fell silent. Every single person was shaken to the core.

Those young officials who had rushed over from the Ministry of War had not spoken a word. From the start of the inspection until now, there had not been a single fake head. After each person had examined over a hundred randomly selected heads, none had any interest in continuing. There were heads from the outermost layer, and there were heads piled in the very innermost. They still maintained some composure, but the veteran soldier who had accompanied them was in a state of utter stupefaction, his face full of shock and disbelief.

"How is this possible?" The words were spoken, then cut short. What was impossible about it? How many impossible things had Xuzhou's Zhao Jin already accomplished?

After finishing with the heads, everyone went to look at the spoils of war displayed by the Zhao family army: the armor, weapons, and banners of the Jianzhou Jurchens. These items could be faked, but with the preceding heads serving as confirmation, no one would think them counterfeit. All that remained was this dumbstruck, soul-shaking awe.

When it came to falsifying battle achievements, it was actually very difficult to fake the spoils of war. Weapons and armor cost silver to buy and required real materials and labor — how could such things be cobbled together in a rush? The whole point of reaping military merit was for wealth and rank; why would anyone go to the trouble of spending silver instead?

"Slain in battle: Nurhaci's third son, Tangguldai..." Compared to what came before, this was even more shocking.

What did this signify? This was equivalent to the Great Ming losing an imperial prince. For such a crime, the current Senior Grand Secretary would be imprisoned, and the local supreme commander, circuit intendants, and officials of the prefecture, subprefecture, and county would likely all lose their heads. By reasoning backward from such consequences, one could infer just what kind of meritorious deed this was.

However, someone immediately explained that the Jianzhou Jurchens' rules differed from those of the Great Ming. They did not look solely at the paternal bloodline, but rather at the maternal side — what was called "bringing one's body into the partnership."

Every time the Khan of the Jurchen Jin state took a consort, it was a partnership and alliance. Behind every high-status consort stood a major Jurchen or Mongol tribe as backing. The strength of the maternal uncle's family would naturally support the nephew who shared their bloodline. The sons of the Khan born of such unions naturally held exalted status.

"... This means that those born of the empress and high-ranking consorts can become imperial princes — they call them Beile over there. Those born of secondary or lower ranks probably do not even get the title of general; at most, they are something like a Lieutenant of the Realm..."

"... They are not like our Great Ming, raised in wealth and luxury. Every one of them can lead troops into battle, just like our Great Ming in the founding era..."

In the Great Ming imperial clan's inheritance system, the eldest son generally inherited the title, while other sons inherited a title one rank lower, diminishing generation by generation. Sons of a Prince of the Blood other than the eldest were enfeoffed as Commandery Princes. Sons of a Commandery Prince other than the eldest were enfeoffed as Defense Generals of the State, descending in order to Bulwark General of the State, Support General of the State, Defense Lieutenant of the State, Bulwark Lieutenant of the State, and by the sixth generation and below, all were Support Lieutenants of the State.

This Lieutenant of the State was the most worthless of noble titles. Although by regulation the state was supposed to supply them with land, housing, and stipends of rice, in practice they could not actually receive them, and lived in bitter poverty and hardship. To think that the sons of a ruling khan were ranked even lower than such imperial clansmen was truly harsh beyond measure.

The crowd examining the heads all listened very carefully. The Great Ming had little information about the Jianzhou Jurchens, and what was known was often inaccurate. To have someone explain it, and explain it so clearly and logically — everyone felt their horizons broadening even as they mentally compared it with the Great Ming's own information.

As for those young men from the Ministry of War, they were even more fearful of missing a single word. In the Ministry, they had never learned any useful intelligence. The border army in western Liaodong and the Dongjiang Garrison reported victories and requested commendations daily — today they had beheaded some marquis of the enemy, tomorrow they had cut down some prince of the enemy. Everyone knew it was false, but no one knew exactly where the falsehood lay. Today, they more or less understood.

By this point in the lecture, however, everyone also realized which faction had sent this voluble speaker. If he were from the Great Ming side, how would he dare utter those two sensitive and taboo phrases — "raised in wealth and luxury" and "the founding era"?

It was truly a strange thing. If you did not explain this, everyone would assume you had slain a barbarian Prince of the Blood in battle. Thinking of it according to the Great Ming's rules, that would be a peerless, once-in-a-lifetime deed of merit. But once you explained it clearly, it turned out to be the equivalent of slaying a Regional Commander in battle, and instantly it was nowhere near as shocking.

The various parties who had come to verify the heads reacted very quickly. The fact that the Xuzhou Zhao family army discussed this matter so lightly only further proved the authenticity of these heads. What the various factions of the Great Ming saw as a monumental deed of merit, the Zhao family army regarded as nothing special. They felt the deed was worth publicizing, but not worth trumpeting loudly — merely something to mention in passing during the exhibition, nothing more.

"Shenzhi, why are you crying? Could it be lime dust in your eyes? Quickly, go find some clean water."

Among the young Ministry of War officials, someone suddenly shed tears. His companions immediately called out to help, but the one crying wiped his face a few times with his hand and shook his head, signaling it was unnecessary.

Though he wiped them, the tears still flowed unceasingly. The official addressed as "Shenzhi" covered his face with his hands. The others finally understood at last that their companion had not gotten lime or some foreign matter in his eyes — he was weeping.

"This... the Great Ming... this... the realm, the altars of state... it is finished, all finished..."

Seeing their companion in this state, the others also felt a surge of sorrow. This was not the posturing of a lofty, grandiloquent moral purist; it was genuine, heartfelt grief.

The Great Ming had suffered catastrophic defeat in the Liaodong garrison zone. Hundreds of thousands of troops, millions of commoners — all had gone and never returned, to say nothing of the tens of millions of taels of silver squandered there. And what was the result now? Only the narrow strip of western Liaodong struggled to hold on. The military houses there, like bottomless pits, devoured the Great Ming's grain and pay without showing the slightest sign of advancing. Today they reported an emergency; tomorrow they begged for reinforcements. Step by step, they were being forced back by the Jianzhou Jurchens. If not for the lack of navigable waterways between Guangning and Ningyuan, the Jianzhou troops would likely have long since approached Shanhai Pass.