Chapter 1654: The Wa Capital Right Before Their Eyes

Though he was still in that calm, unruffled state one has just after recovering from a blow, Nijō Yasumichi felt a piercing sting the moment he heard this demand.

On the surface, since Kyushu had already been given to the Shimazu clan, the Kyushu daimyo who had surrendered to Great Han naturally needed other territories as reward for their service — that was beyond reproach. But this was originally a problem Great Han should have faced, and now it had been shifted onto the Imperial Court's head, which was truly hard to swallow.

Worse still, Great Han was using this opportunity to actively interfere in the rewarding of the daimyo. When it comes to rewarding service, nothing surpasses granting land to others — such grace is naturally what men remember most deeply, what they take as the basis of their allegiance. If the Court granted them fiefs, the grace would come from the sovereign, which would still be acceptable. But now that Great Han was meddling, would these daimyo be grateful to the Court or to Great Han? Whose orders would they obey in the end?

He suspected they would feel no gratitude toward the Court at all.

What worried him even more was: if Great Han interfered in the rewarding of these men, would it affect the Court's own territory? Japan was only so large to begin with, and vast tracts of land had already been granted away. If the rewarding continued like this, how much territory would the Court have left?

Great Han had already given them so many "surprises" — if they really pulled this one too, wouldn't all their efforts have been for nothing?

"Since the various daimyo have rendered service to the nation, rewarding them is only proper." Nijō Yasumichi felt his mouth go dry and gripped the reins tightly to keep himself from falling off his horse. "However, my lord, our country has endured for a thousand years, and the granting of fiefs and rewards has long had its established rules. If they are rashly altered, I fear it will be difficult to implement. Moreover, our Court faces many hardships and truly cannot grant large tracts of land. I beg my lord to understand…"

"What is this? Is the Lord Udaijin afraid that too much rewarding will affect your honorable Court?" Zhou Pu looked at him squarely. "My lord, you are mistaken. I have said before that our dynasty values good faith above all. Since we have already made promises to your Court, we would absolutely never go back on our word."

Having first reassured Nijō Yasumichi, Zhou Pu then laid out his own plan. "The fiefs for these daimyo will absolutely not encroach upon your Court's territory. They will only be carved out from other places — the shogunate's lands, for instance, or the lands of daimyo loyal to the shogunate. That way, these daimyo can later serve as a protective screen for your Court, guarding the capital region. Would that not be excellent?"

Only then did Nijō Yasumichi's heart settle a little. So long as Great Han did not intend to break its word and seize the Kinai region it had originally promised, then even if Great Han interfered in the postwar rewarding, it could still be endured.

He understood that even if Great Han now wanted to act on its own authority, they had no way to interfere and could only acquiesce. And he knew even more clearly that arguing with Great Han now would bring no benefit whatsoever.

Great Han might be overbearing and tyrannical, but they still seemed intent on using the Court as their signboard, and they did not intend to violate their prior promises. And so long as they did not break their word, the Court could gain actual territory and still hold the moral high ground of righteous legitimacy. In the end, there would still be a chance to turn things around — at the very least, it was better than barely surviving on sufferance before the shogunate as before.

"Since my lord thinks this way, I have nothing more to say… I will certainly inform the Court and have them act according to my lord's demands as quickly as possible. I will never make things difficult for my lord." He was ordinarily straightforward by nature, saying whatever came to mind, but today, before this Great Han envoy, every word came with immense difficulty. "So long as the shogunate can be overthrown, rewarding meritorious service is only right."

Having made concession after concession against his own will, Nijō Yasumichi's mood sank into extreme dejection and unease, and Zhou Pu had no intention of pressing his advantage, so he said no more. For a while the two rode on in silence, hurrying forward on their horses, and the earlier atmosphere of cheerful harmony was gone entirely.

After this silence had stretched on for a long time, Nijō Yasumichi finally pushed aside the displeasure in his heart and drew close to Zhou Pu's side once more.

"My lord, before I left the Court, our country's sovereign entrusted me with one more matter. This matter is of great importance and requires my lord's assistance…"

"What matter?" Seeing how mysteriously Nijō Yasumichi was speaking, Zhou Pu instinctively grew somewhat wary.

"My lord, I will not hide it from you. Our country, previously under pressure from the shogunate, had no choice but to pass the imperial throne to the princess Okiko. A hen crowing at dawn — that is a matter of great ill omen. After the war, it absolutely cannot be allowed to continue. His Majesty… ahem, the sovereign will be restored to the throne and will once again preside over the Court." Nijō Yasumichi very tactfully switched his form of address. "Yet Okiko is, after all, the sovereign's daughter, connected by blood, and he cannot bear to bring the axe down upon her. But if she is merely placed under house arrest, it will inevitably give certain schemers a glimmer of hope, and in the future it may breed disaster…"

Though he spoke with great earnestness, Zhou Pu only grew more puzzled the more he listened. The Japanese Court and the shogunate were now irreconcilable. This Empress Okiko was of Tokugawa blood; deposing her was perfectly legitimate and there was no need to consult him about it. If they feared future reversals, wouldn't placing Okiko under house arrest for life suffice?

Besides, he did not think this girl could command any rallying power anyway.

"How to deal with Okiko is an internal matter of your country's imperial house. We will not interfere," he stated his view directly.

"It is precisely on this matter that I must consult you, my lord… Because the sovereign's thought is this: could the deposed Okiko be married to a certain prince of the Celestial Dynasty? You see, my lord, this would both relieve our Court's worries and bring our two nations one step closer, making us nations bound by marriage… This would be the very beginning of an eternal amity between us." After he finished, Nijō Yasumichi watched Zhou Pu carefully. "What does the Heavenly Envoy think?"

It had to be said, Zhou Pu was genuinely stunned by this proposal. He had never imagined that the Japanese Court would actually want to marry the deposed Empress Okiko into Great Han.

Was this a marriage alliance, a gesture of submission, or just a way to offload a problem?

What they were thinking didn't matter; what mattered was how he should respond.

An outright refusal would probably not be good, but rashly agreeing was even less acceptable. This involved the imperial house; he had to be cautious in word and deed and could not casually express an opinion. This question should be decided by the capital. After pondering for a moment, he made his decision.

"Lord Udaijin, your country's proposal is truly somewhat unexpected… I am in no position to decide it. However, I will report this matter to the capital and let the Son of Heaven decide."

"Since it involves the imperial house, it is naturally inconvenient for the Heavenly Envoy to express an opinion. I can certainly understand that… But if the Heavenly Envoy could put in a few good words and help our court see our country's sincerity and the pros and cons of this matter…" Nijō Yasumichi lowered his voice. "So long as the Heavenly Envoy is willing to speak on our behalf, whether it succeeds or not, we will be grateful for the Heavenly Envoy's kindness and will repay it with all our hearts!"

"I will report back to our country as soon as possible." Zhou Pu did not promise anything more, merely nodding blandly in agreement.

Whether this matter succeeded or not made little difference to him; he was merely performing his duty by reporting it up the chain. As for words like "repay with all our hearts," these people had said such things to him many times, and he did not take them to heart. So long as the Great Han army stood behind him, he had no fear that they would fail to repay him with all their hearts.

Upon arriving at the Chōshū domain's castle town, Zhou Pu was once again given an extremely warm welcome. He conversed happily with Mōri Hidenari and the many domain officials of the Mōri clan, and together they assessed the situation and reached a tacit understanding for the operations to come.

In the days that followed, the Great Han navy's transport ships continued ferrying troops, equipment, and supplies northward, which then assembled within Chōshū domain. The Chōshū domain army's momentum swelled greatly as a result. However, like the Shimazu clan, they did not accept unified command under Zhou Pu and the others, instead commanding their own forces independently. Though Zhou Pu had some minor complaints about this, he still accepted it.

During these days, Zhou Pu issued multiple proclamations here. On one hand, he harshly denounced the shogunate's crimes; on the other, he declared that Great Han had already dispatched a great army onto Honshu, reaching the very heartland of Japan, and demanded that the daimyo recognize the situation and surrender to Great Han promptly — otherwise they would be regarded as enemies of Great Han and would not be able to preserve their family estates and territories in the future.

Today, with the Great Han army winning victory after victory and many daimyo surrendering at the mere rumor of their approach, this threat carried extraordinary weight. Not long after Zhou Pu issued his proclamations, daimyo in the surrounding areas began secretly sending envoys to probe and ask whether Great Han might spare them.

The situation was progressing extremely smoothly, and Zhou Pu was naturally elated. Yet he also knew that so long as the shogunate had not been completely overthrown, his enterprise was not yet successful. So he dared not slack off, and during these days he had been constantly deliberating with his staff officers, diligently studying the fundamentals of leading troops into battle.

During this period, to everyone's surprise, the northern border of Chōshū domain, adjacent to Iwami and Aki provinces, had remained entirely free of trouble, with no sign of a large army coming to suppress them. Moreover, the scouts Chōshū sent into these areas had not discovered any large-scale troop concentrations there. The shogunate had not even made any response to Chōshū's rebellion, as if the Mōri clan and Great Han's landing force had been completely forgotten by them.

This abnormal situation left Zhou Pu and his staff officers rather puzzled. They judged that the shogunate was now at its wits' end in the face of the current situation and, moreover, had grown fearful of the Great Han army's sharp edge. Thus, it no longer intended to march against Chōshū, quell the rebellion, and smash the Great Han army, but instead planned only to adopt a defensive strategy to drag things out with Great Han, forcing Great Han to make the decision to withdraw under the strain of attrition.

The shogunate's strategy was clear and obvious — one could even call it very wise. They had not acted on impulse, proactively sending troops to fight a decisive battle with the Great Han army, but were instead using terrain and defensive positions to wage a war of attrition.

That being the case, the strategy they had originally formulated — "assist the Mōri clan in holding Chōshū, defeat the shogunate's punitive army, then press the victory and advance on Kyoto" — was now out of date.

They had wanted to use their own column to draw the shogunate's army, but the shogunate now seemed entirely unmoved by them.

So, after discussing with Zhou Pu, Huang Changguo decided to change the plan. Instead of defending first and then counterattacking, they would take the initiative and attack on their own, pushing deep into the heartland of Honshu. Presumably, once the Great Han army closed in on Kyoto, the shogunate, no matter how defensively inclined, would have no choice but to engage their forces in battle.

Once the decision was made, the landing forces accelerated their assembly even further, and large numbers were deployed to the northern border of Chōshū domain, ready to attack northward at any moment.

The bulk of these troops were the domain armies of the various Kyushu daimyo. After a period of reorganization and training by Great Han, they had achieved unified command and were no longer the motley assortment they had been before. Moreover, spurred by the heavy rewards Zhou Pu offered, their fighting spirit was reasonably high.

As for Nijō Yasumichi, with the help of the domain army, he slipped back into Iwami Province. He needed to return to the Court, relay the news he had received to them, and have them make preparations to link up with Great Han's northward-advancing army as soon as possible.

Amid this atmosphere of sharpening weapons and feeding horses, the Mōri clan had also been mobilizing their domain army within their own territory, reaching the very limit of what the domain could muster. They dreamed of recovering their old territories, so they were the most zealous of all. At the same time, they were pressing the domain for grain levies, nearly emptying the villages, and there had even been small-scale riots, which were met with bloody and harsh suppression.

The Mōri clan's adoption of such a drain-the-pond-to-catch-the-fish, stop-at-nothing approach precisely reflected their determination to succeed or die trying. If they won the gamble, there would be plenty of time to recuperate and rebuild afterward; if they lost, Chōshū domain would certainly not remain under Mōri rule in the future, and the lives of the peasants would have nothing to do with them anymore.

This taut atmosphere finally reached its peak one night.

That night, Zhou Pu, leading his staff officers and the daimyo who had submitted to him, made his way in a grand procession to the border between the Mōri clan and the Asano clan of Aki Province, ready to launch the general offensive northward.

As the unavoidable route to Kyoto, Aki Province was designated the main axis of attack. Moreover, Aki was the Mōri clan's ancestral homeland, so the Mōri clan heartily approved of this deployment. After this period of positioning and preparation, they would launch the general offensive against their old territory today.

Along their line of march, the countryside was filled everywhere with the droning of cicadas, as if cheering them on. By the time they reached the position from which they would soon advance, the sky was gradually brightening toward dawn, and daybreak was clearly just ahead.

Zhou Pu looked up. A few lingering stars were inlaid in the pale blue sky. The great earth was hazy and indistinct, as if shrouded in a silver-gray gossamer veil. The trees and thickets swayed faintly in the wind, casting ghostly shadows.

The army's advance units had long since assembled, awaiting his orders. They stood in solemn silence, concealed in the darkness and shadows, now faintly revealed by the pale glow of light, as if they had just materialized out of thin air.

Of course, amid this chaos, the red uniforms of the Great Han troops remained strikingly vivid, looking like points of fire in the night, giving one a deeply reassuring feeling.

The cool breeze of early morning was refreshing, sweeping away Zhou Pu's fatigue entirely. He brought the men around him to the center of the camp, and as he arrived, these troops also began to form up tensely, assuming the posture of awaiting orders at any moment.

By now the horizon was faintly revealing the white of egg, and the clouds were all gathering at the edge of the sky as if rushing to a fair, looking as though they had been dipped in blood, showing a pale red hue — as if foretelling everything they were about to face.

Zhou Pu suppressed the excitement and unease in his heart and raised his head to look at the sky. As if to cast aside all distracting thoughts, he let out a long breath of stale air.

This feeling of having a mighty host at one's command, ready to be directed and driven at will, was truly too strange and too wonderful. With just a single order from him, tens of thousands of men would resolutely march forward, toward an unknown distance.

Just a few years ago, he had been nothing more than a minor provincial degree-holder in Shandong, unknown to all and respected by none. Yet merely a few years later, he had already won the favorable regard of the Great Han Emperor and the Chancellor, been entrusted with a heavy responsibility and sent to this island nation hanging alone beyond the seas, and had opened up such a vast situation — with a laugh and a word, he could make a nation's high ministers and powerful daimyo bow their heads and prick up their ears…

Who can ever truly explain the fortunes of a man's life?

He raised his head and gazed at the distant sky. The sun had now appeared above the horizon, revealing a segment of its arc, glowing red like a dazzling orb of light and flame. Slowly it crept upward, and the rosy clouds around the red sun were dyed in full, leaving nothing untouched.

The mountain wind had also grown stronger, blowing head-on and scattering the mist and clouds. The distant mountain forests and roads were now all fully visible. This expanse of wilderness stretched on and on, passing through city after city, until it would finally reach his ultimate destination.

He had traveled to the capital once before, roughly surveying and recording the local customs, landscapes, and terrain along the way. And now was the time to verify the fruits of that earlier effort.

"My lord, the hour has come." Tachibana Muneshige, the veteran general assisting him in commanding the entire army, spurred his horse to Zhou Pu's side. "The whole army now stands ready, awaiting only your order."

Everyone watched Zhou Pu, waiting for this envoy of Great Han to give the command.

And Zhou Pu did not disappoint them. He appeared utterly composed, as if everything were already mapped out in his mind.

"The whole army — advance!" He swung his hand down heavily.

"The whole army — advance!" The orderlies immediately scattered in all directions, relaying his command to every corner of the entire force.

As if startled awake, the great army's formations began to slowly move forward. Leading the vanguard were the Mōri clan's domain troops — handpicked samurai in armor, moving swiftly. The flanks were composed of the various domain armies Great Han had mustered from Kyushu, their ranks strict and disciplined, and moreover.

Great Han's own troops, meanwhile, remained in the center as the main body alongside Zhou Pu. Riding with his several staff officers, Zhou Pu advanced resolutely amid the escort of these red-coated officers and soldiers. This was the core of the great army, its very soul, from which the courage of all others would spring. And though they were few in number, every man was brimming with confidence, waiting only to go forth and pluck new honors.

Throughout these armies' formations, every manner of battle flag was everywhere. Seen from afar, it was as if a forest of banners were moving forward.

Meeting no resistance whatsoever, the great army stepped into the territory of the Asano clan's Hiroshima Domain in Aki Province, pressing on toward Hiroshima Castle along the very road Zhou Pu had taken on his last journey to the capital. Because the Great Han army had landed in invasion and the Mōri clan had long since raised the banner of rebellion, the local inhabitants had already fled in all directions — some escaping north, some hiding in the mountain forests — so they saw few signs of human habitation.

And the endpoint of this journey was the capital.