Chapter 566: - The Long Wind Rises!

A long drought breeds locusts.

And the appearance of this locust plague was enough to tear away the final fig leaf of “prosperity” from a Great Yan already struggling to its limit.

No matter how well the wars of expansion went, no matter how many victories came one after another, would common people who could no longer fill their bellies still cheer for them?

Ji Chengjue had He Sisi fill a large bowl with rice on the bottom and vegetables on top, then took a pair of chopsticks and climbed into his carriage.

Eunuch Zhang drove.

The carriage headed out of the city, toward the Rear Garden.

Ji Chengjue ate as he frowned.

At this point, his thoughts of fighting for power had actually faded somewhat.

He had not even sent anyone to check whether the Crown Prince had already left the Eastern Palace for the Rear Garden.

By rights, if the memorial had reached him, then the Crown Prince could only have received it even earlier.

Ji Chengjue had worked himself half to death like a paperhanger, doing everything he could to patch Great Yan’s house so it at least did not look as though wind was blowing through holes on every side.

Now, that job could no longer be patched over.

The beam was about to collapse.

Since ancient times, no dynasty had ever lasted ten thousand generations.

Great Xia had forged the civilization of all the Xia realms. The Three Marquises opened the frontiers and spread the spark of Xia civilization across the entire east.

And yet?

Great Xia had long since fallen.

What of Great Yan?

Eight hundred years under Great Yan.

That was a very long time.

Truly, far too long.

Long enough that countless people had grown accustomed to believing the realm of Great Yan was naturally meant to endure alongside the sun and moon.

But reality did not work that way.

Ever since his imperial father began trampling the aristocratic clans beneath cavalry hooves, Ji Chengjue had felt the methods were somewhat too radical.

Yes.

Attack Qian.

Swallow Jin.

Drive out the Savages.

Campaign against Chu.

Great Yan’s national momentum seemed like the sun at high noon.

But this false blaze was burning far too fiercely.

When a basin of cold water was poured over it, the result would not be cooling.

The bottom of the pot would crack apart.

In former years of disaster, the court could draw on the reserves in its granaries.

If that was not enough, it could transfer grain from unaffected commanderies into the afflicted ones.

If that still was not enough, then came donations and compulsory levies.

Aristocratic clans and great households had always maintained the habit of storing grain. The court could send imperial commissioners down and order them to release it.

Those who obeyed would generally be allowed to preserve some dignity.

Those who refused?

A hat labeled “treason” could always be dropped over their heads.

After that, everyone endured a little longer.

They sold ancestral property and fields.

They attached themselves to great households and became tenant-servants.

Somehow, most people could still survive.

Even if there was starvation, only a minority starved to death.

The problem remained manageable.

But after the aristocratic clans were crushed beneath cavalry hooves, politics achieved an unprecedented degree of centralization while production and livelihood were left with an enormous vacuum.

Add several consecutive years of foreign war, and Great Yan itself had already been hollowed out.

All the old layers of extraction had already been used.

If you tried squeezing again now, there was no grain left.

What exactly were you supposed to squeeze out?

By the time the carriage reached the outskirts of the city, Ji Chengjue had finished his meal.

For once, he ate every last grain of rice in the bowl.

At the end, he even poured tea water into it, swirled the bowl around, and drank down the last trace of oil.

Ji Chengjue had always been a man who, whenever conditions allowed, believed food should be as refined as possible.

Today, he had genuinely begun treating grain seriously.

“Master, that is the Eastern Palace’s entourage.”

Eunuch Zhang, driving the carriage, gave the warning.

Ji Chengjue lifted the curtain and looked ahead.

Sure enough, the Crown Prince’s entourage had arrived before him.

Besides the Eastern Palace party, there was also the Chief Minister’s carriage and the carriages of several other senior officials.

Ji Chengjue lowered the curtain again.

A faint smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

A moment earlier, he had been grieving for the state and its people, frightened for Great Yan’s future, cherishing even a single grain of rice.

Now, he had once again become the fox of the political hall, stepping into this black whirlpool.

This, perhaps, was the true majesty of an emperor.

Emperor Yan remained inside the Rear Garden and ignored court affairs.

Yet everyone above and below still knew clearly who the true master of Great Yan was.

Ji Chengjue shook his head.

His imperial father’s authority was no longer something the Directorate of Ceremonial or the chief ministers could possibly shake.

He could hand away many things.

Very many things.

But in truth, it was almost as though he had handed away nothing at all.

No one dared ignore him.

Unless...

“Companion Zhang.”

“This slave is here.”

“Back to the Ministry of Revenue.”

“Yes, Master.”

Ji Chengjue’s carriage turned around.

He had come.

And now he was leaving again.

There was no chance this would escape the notice of the others.

Yet he still departed just like that.

The locust plague had erupted, and the Governor of Huwei Commandery had already predicted that it would soon spread into Tiancheng Commandery.

If the possibility had been remote, the governor would never have dared write such a thing into an emergency memorial.

Going to the Rear Garden to seek his imperial father was an instinct, both as a son and as a subject.

But once he truly reached the gate, Ji Chengjue suddenly no longer wanted to go inside.

Natural disasters were beyond human power.

Finding his imperial father would not help.

And Ji Chengjue knew better than almost anyone exactly how proud a man his father was.

The campaign against Chu had been personally pushed forward by Emperor Yan.

That meant he could never agree to end it now.

No matter how high the price.

No matter how riddled with holes the family foundation had become.

The emperor’s will could not be changed.

In that case, what meaning was there in seeing him or not seeing him?

The Crown Prince had taken a group of senior officials inside.

Did they truly dare remonstrate to Emperor Yan’s face and demand an edict ending the war?

No.

They did not dare.

What they could do, and what they dared do, was hint.

Hint.

Then hint again.

Put the disaster memorials at the very top.

Use every possible method to hint at what they wanted.

Like performing a shadow-puppet play, everything depended on meanings that could be understood but never spoken aloud.

Ji Chengjue sat in the carriage as it entered the city again.

His hands gently rubbed at his face.

How much longer would the war in Chu last?

He did not know.

How much longer could his imperial father’s body endure?

He did not know that either.

He could do many things.

But faced with those two unknowns, the overwhelming majority of what he did was actually meaningless.

When he returned to the Ministry of Revenue, Ji Chengjue could clearly feel how low the pressure inside had become.

The common people might still be ignorant.

Other officials might not see the situation clearly.

Only the clerks and officials here knew just how hollow Great Yan, this seemingly immense empire, had already become inside.

Ji Chengjue returned to his seat, picked up a submission, and began reviewing it.

Seeing him work, the others slowly resumed their own duties as well.

“Your Highness, this memorial came from the east.”

A Vice Director of the Ministry of Revenue placed a memorial before Ji Chengjue.

For the campaign against Chu, Emperor Yan had long since opened every possible convenient channel.

That meant memorials from the Prince of Jingnan could bypass the central ministries and arrive directly on the desks of the Ministry of Revenue.

Naturally, the central government would still receive a copy.

Put simply, whatever the Prince of Jingnan needed, the rear could coordinate with him directly and put it into effect.

There was no opportunity for buck-passing or delay.

In this regard alone, the treatment enjoyed by the Prince of Jingnan was enough to make every supreme commander in every other country collectively envious.

This was what it truly meant to say:

Behind this commander stands all of Great Yan.

The problem was that when the Prince of Jingnan needed something, he simply asked for it.

Under the ordinary procedure, if you requested ten parts, the central authorities might revise it down to eight.

When the order was actually implemented, the lower offices would cry poverty again.

In the end, you might receive six or seven.

That was standard procedure.

But here, ten parts meant ten parts in full.

Ji Chengjue drew a deep breath and opened the memorial.

In his mind, he was already seeing demands for more civilian laborers, more weapons, more warhorses, more grain...

And indeed, it concerned military supplies for the next season.

The shipment had to reach the front before winter, before the end of the year.

Both preparation and transport required time.

That meant the request had to be made now.

However, the figures written on the memorial...

The demand for warhorses had not changed.

The quantity of grain and fodder required afterward was only twenty percent of the previous season’s figure!

Every other category had also been reduced to around twenty percent, some even lower.

The most shocking entry was civilian laborers.

Beside that line, the Prince of Jingnan had personally written:

Repatriate as circumstances permit.

What did that mean?

It meant the front already had enough laborers.

There was no need to keep adding manpower.

Even some of the laborers in the rear could be sent home.

Ji Chengjue absolutely refused to believe that the Prince of Jingnan had suddenly learned about Great Yan’s finances and the hardship of its people and decided to show consideration for the rear.

That was not something the Prince of Jingnan would do.

The only reason such a change in requirements could have appeared was because...

Because...

Because...

Ji Chengjue’s body collapsed back into his chair.

His hand clenched the memorial tightly.

The Prince of Jingnan believed the war would be wrapped up very soon.

Ji Chengjue pressed one hand against his chest.

The news of the locust plague had left his chest feeling as though a boulder had been dropped onto it.

This memorial did not directly describe the plans or progress at the front.

But it had already revealed more than enough.

The boulder was first pressed down, then suddenly shifted aside.

A man simply could not endure being jerked up and down like this.

It was practically more than he could bear even compared with Sisi sitting on top after finishing her postpartum confinement.

Things had to be handled one at a time.

No matter what, the war in the east finally seemed to have a dawn in sight.

Next came disaster relief.

As much as possible, let fewer people die.

In truth, Ji Chengjue had always wanted to ask his imperial father one question.

If, by the end of all this, the old people of Yan had been bled so badly that their vitality was ruined, then even if you swept away the Four Great States and unified all the Xia realms, in the end, who exactly would benefit?

After finishing the work before him and giving the necessary instructions, Ji Chengjue rose and left the Ministry of Revenue again.

He climbed into Eunuch Zhang’s carriage.

“Did they see him?”

Ji Chengjue asked.

“Replying to Master, they did. But it is said His Majesty flew into a rage and said that if the Crown Prince acting as regent was incapable of governing the state, then he could get out of the Eastern Palace himself.”

“My imperial father truly said that?”

“Yes, Master. That is the message our people sent back. When the Crown Prince and Zhao Jiulang came out of the Rear Garden, they both looked as though they had been severely reprimanded. The Crown Prince was even so distracted that he nearly fell while boarding his carriage.”

“Heh.”

Ji Chengjue laughed.

“Acting.”

Before they went inside, they should already have known they would be scolded.

And before his imperial father even learned they were coming to the Rear Garden, he had probably already known he would soon need to scold them.

One side had prepared to be scolded.

The other had prepared to do the scolding.

That was exactly why Ji Chengjue had turned around at the Rear Garden gate.

The situation was rotten.

But no matter how rotten it became, someone still had to do the work.

What meaning was there in following a predetermined ritual over there?

“Master, Wen Yin sent word. One of Fourth Prince Ji Chengfeng’s trusted men met with Li Yinglian last night.”

After Ji Chengfeng took command of part of the Capital Garrison, he had once come to Ji Chengjue asking for weapons and provisions.

Ji Chengjue refused him on the grounds that supplies were strained at the front.

Afterward, Ji Chengfeng went to the Crown Prince.

The Crown Prince issued an edict.

Ji Chengjue pushed it back.

After that, the Crown Prince opened the storehouses of the Imperial Guards and allocated weapons, money, and grain directly to Ji Chengfeng.

To outsiders, this meant the Fourth Prince had chosen a side, just as the First Prince had.

Only, the First Prince had joined the Sixth Lord Faction, while the Fourth Prince had chosen the Crown Prince.

“Has Li Liangshen’s force started south?”

“Yes. They have already begun moving south. The vanguard left today.”

Li Liangshen’s force was moving south to place pressure on Qian, to make the Qian think again before daring to stake everything on a northern expedition.

“Tell our people in the west to pay closer attention to the situation at the western Marquis of Zhenbei... no, the Prince Zhenbei Residence.”

“Master thinks that man may have something to say?”

“There is no doubt Father’s health is deteriorating. The war in the east is also approaching its result. Do you remember when the Marquis of Zhenbei entered the capital four years ago? That was the beginning. I think he may enter the capital one more time, to serve as the ending.”

“Master, if that man really comes again, then what do we...”

“Among the people on my side, aside from Zheng Fan, the rest are only hoping that in the future there will be some path of retreat. At the very least, enough to protect my family, get us out of this capital, and preserve a quiet life somewhere in the jianghu. From the beginning, I never intended to touch true military power and use the army to force anything. If I had thought that way, I would have underestimated my imperial father. The Crown Prince is the same. Everyone can play when it is time to play, fight when it is time to fight. If things truly become unbearable, we can even trade fists and kicks in the court. But if anyone tries to seize military power in order to stage some fratricidal struggle, heh... Sometimes, I genuinely feel like nothing more than one of those crickets people watch in a jar, forced to fight another cricket for their amusement.”

“Master, this slave is the cricket. Master, you are...”

“In Father’s eyes, everyone beneath Heaven is a cricket. Some are merely larger, some smaller.”

Ji Chengjue sighed.

Then asked:

“That madwoman. Has she been behaving herself lately?”

Emperor Yan had moved into the Rear Garden.

Naturally, the Commandery Princess who had originally lived there had to move out.

The Rear Garden was enormous.

There would certainly have been room.

But it would have violated propriety.

After all, the Commandery Princess carried half the status of a daughter-in-law.

So now she was living in a royal villa at West Mountain Residence.

Before the Rear Garden was built, that place had served generations of Ji emperors as a retreat for escaping the summer heat and soaking in the hot springs.

“Master, the Commandery Princess went to the old Tian family residence the day before yesterday.”

Ji Chengjue fell silent.

Counting the days, the annual memorial rites for the Tian Clan were approaching.

A long time later, Ji Chengjue spat out two words.

“Madwoman.”

...

If one looked down from the sky, one could clearly see an immense spread of military camps north of Zhennan Pass.

The Yan army had continued constructing siege equipment the entire time.

Yet after all this time, it had never truly launched an assault on Zhennan Pass.

Not only Zhennan Pass.

Even the two great army camps, one east and one west below the pass, were treated by the Yan as though they did not exist.

The Chu army had been sleeping with weapons beside them, prepared for battle.

Yet the Yan refused to take the hint.

More strangely, something extremely bizarre had begun happening on the battlefield.

In stark contrast with the tense atmosphere of the two armies facing each other at the Zhennan Pass line, the Yan army began holding one joint field exercise after another behind its camps.

A field exercise, in truth, was simply training.

Among the armies campaigning against Chu, the quality of the Zhenbei Army and Jingnan Army naturally required no further explanation.

But the other formations were much more uneven.

Beneath the Prince of Jingnan’s banner, all Yan formations began training strictly according to the old Jingnan Army standards.

And what they practiced was no longer the Yan army’s weakness, siege warfare.

They practiced open-field cavalry tactics.

Formations.

Charges.

Crossing lines.

Wheeling.

Outflanking.

Every fine tactical detail.

For the other armies, the Jingnan Army stood before them as a ready-made standard.

The soldiers had something concrete to compare themselves against.

And inside this great army, no one was willing to admit inferiority to anyone else.

Once that competitive spirit caught fire, the soldiers became even more motivated to train hard and raise their rankings in the next joint exercise.

As a result, the exercises were genuinely producing excellent results.

To outsiders, the entire thing was incomprehensible.

A war between states had begun.

They had already fought for so long.

The Yan had nearly stripped away every camp, fort, and strongpoint north of Zhennan Pass.

Yet instead of exploiting the momentum and attacking Zhennan Pass, they stopped there and began training soldiers, consuming vast amounts of military supplies every single day.

If a supreme commander in any other country dared do this, he would probably immediately be accused of delaying the war and harboring ulterior motives.

But the Prince of Jingnan’s authority inside the army was simply too great.

Since the war began, the only decree Emperor Yan had sent was still merely an oral one.

So from top to bottom, no one in the Yan court dared say a word against the Prince’s decisions.

Everyone knew the saying that sharpening the blade did not delay the chopping of firewood.

But no one else had the nerve to sit calmly beneath the eyes of several hundred thousand enemy soldiers and keep sharpening.

Another joint exercise ended.

Rankings were announced.

Rewards were distributed.

The generals gathered inside the Prince’s command tent and waited for the routine assessment he gave after every exercise.

At last, the Prince of Jingnan entered.

“Greetings, Prince!”

“Greetings, Prince!”

The generals saluted.

The Prince of Jingnan walked to the commander’s seat.

His gaze swept across the entire tent.

Then he said:

“The Chu supply route has already been cut.”

The generals erupted into an uproar.

Immediately afterward, many of them thought of one man.

A man who had never once appeared throughout the entire second phase of the campaign.

Then excitement appeared across all their faces.

Every general present understood exactly what it meant for several hundred thousand Chu troops to have their grain route cut.

Even if they continued hiding behind fortified cities and hard military camps, their morale would begin to rot, and panic would spread.

It meant the battlefield situation was about to undergo a fundamental change.

“Pass down this Prince’s military order. Every formation is to sharpen its weapons, feed its horses, and prepare marching provisions. Await my command to move. In the past, beside the Wang River at Yupan City, this Prince surrounded forty thousand of Chu’s Azure Luan Army. This time, I want to take all of you and surround something bigger.”

“This subordinate general obeys!”

“This subordinate general obeys!”

“Li Fusheng remains. Everyone else, go prepare.”

The generals quickly left the command tent and galloped back to their respective forces to make arrangements.

Inside the tent, Li Fusheng stepped forward.

“Prince, what are your orders?”

“Li Fusheng. Your force must prepare for a long-distance strike. When the main army moves, you will be responsible for driving straight toward Jing City.”

“Prince, did that brat Zheng Fan send word saying the situation is critical?”

Li Fusheng genuinely cared about Zheng Fan.

The Prince of Jingnan shook his head.

“Ever since he led his army aboard ships and entered Chu, this Prince has not received a single message from him.”

The battlefield spanned an enormous distance.

Even an eight-hundred-li express message suffered severe delays.

Worse still, around Zhennan Pass the Chu had sealed the region almost airtight.

Ordinary messengers could barely pass through at all.

Li Fusheng hurriedly asked:

“Then how does Your Highness know Zheng Fan has already taken Jing City and burned the grain and fodder the Chu stored there?”

Faced with Li Fusheng’s question, the Prince of Jingnan answered with complete casualness.

“I’m used to it.”

[End of Chapter 566]