Chapter 605: - Marquis of Pingxi

In the end, this was eastern Jin.

In the end, this was Fengxin City.

So the investiture ceremony was inevitably somewhat simpler.

But “simpler” did not mean careless.

More than ten thousand Jingnan Army cavalry formed ranks for you.

Drew sabers for you.

And roared in unison for you.

That alone was grand enough.

And farther outside, large numbers of soldiers from other commands, civilian laborers, and auxiliary troops were hurrying over to watch.

Compared with them, ordinary civilians were actually the smallest group present.

This atmosphere was healthier.

More vigorous.

More masculine.

This was what being made Marquis through military merit was supposed to feel like.

If you did not believe it, ask the First Prince to choose.

Would he prefer the meticulously arranged, grand and solemn investiture ceremony held in Nanwang City?

Or would he prefer to stand here once and feel the true taste of steel and cavalry?

A soldier should have backbone.

The wind of Qian’s Jiangnan might be charming.

The wind of Jin might be intoxicating.

The wind of Chu might be solemn.

But the wind of Great Yan was the purest.

Horse sabers.

Iron hooves.

Rows upon rows of Black Dragon Banners snapping in the air.

These were the fiercest bones of pride in all the East beneath Heaven.

Call Great Yan militaristic if you wished.

Call the Emperor of Yan greedy for great achievements and glory.

But at minimum, unless Great Yan collapsed into internal disorder, unless mutiny erupted, unless regional powers rebelled and broke away, no external state presently dared send troops to invade it.

Think back.

Jin had once taken advantage of Yan attacking Qian and invaded first.

The Savages entered the pass and dared wrestle Yan head-on.

Chu had prepared in advance and wanted to measure itself against Yan.

Qian had dared shout about a northern expedition.

Even the Barbarian Royal Court dared sit there and wait for a better offer.

Scholars forever lamented how difficult the lives of the common people were.

Year after year of disaster.

Put plainly, no matter how severe the famine, no matter how merciless Heaven’s wrath, no matter how difficult domestic conditions became, even if mice began starving to death in the national treasury, even if officials had to receive part of their salaries in paper notes, it was still better than enemy armies invading the realm and overturning the state.

Nor was this merely the perspective of those above.

In reality, when one state was invaded and enemy troops ravaged its territory, the people who suffered the deepest pain were still usually those at the very bottom.

The Situ Clan still held its princely title in hereditary perpetuity.

Most of Yingdu’s old bureaucracy had been preserved.

The Yu Clan had been enfeoffed as Princes of Jin and lived in splendor in Yanjing.

When the Yan army invaded Qian, great clans and wealthy households in the north had loaded carts and prepared horses early, fleeing south.

When Count Zheng led troops through Chu and dug up the nobles’ ancestral tombs, he had deliberately avoided killing those nobles themselves.

In southwestern Qian, the local people liked living in bamboo houses raised from the ground to keep away dampness.

Humans lived on the upper floor.

Pigs were often kept below.

Those above lived above.

Those below...

Sitting atop his Pixiu, Count Pingye felt many things.

Truthfully, there was something special about his soul.

Not that he himself was overflowing with spiritual energy.

Rather, having lived two lives gave him a perspective on things somewhat different from ordinary people.

Even so, ever since waking inside that guest room at Tiger Head City in this life, he had often referred to the time the Commandery Princess dragged him away as a civilian laborer to serve as disposable bait as his first lesson in how this world worked.

But one thing could not be denied.

The first time he saw Zhenbei Army cavalry crush Sha Tuo warriors into the mud as though mowing dead grass.

The first time he saw the Marquis of Jingnan sit on the threshold before the ancestral tablets.

The first time he saw the Marquis of Zhenbei roasting a leg of lamb in the Imperial Garden.

The first time he saw the Emperor of Yan learn that Zheng Fan had crippled his son and then simply toss him a token granting access to Lakeheart Pavilion.

The screams and flames at the Tian Residence that night.

The Marquis of Zhenbei dismantling the century-old Zhenbei Army.

The Emperor of Yan issuing a decree that anyone in court who dared recklessly criticize military affairs at the front would be executed without mercy.

Across these past few years, he had marched south into Qian and admired the snow beneath Shangjing’s walls.

He had broken into the Jin capital and scraped gold from the statues in the imperial ancestral temple.

He had ridden north into the snowfield and beaten the Savages until they scattered in rout.

He had campaigned against Chu and watched fireworks fill the sky outside Ying Capital.

Every time, he deliberately told himself, deliberately reminded himself, that he felt nothing for Great Yan.

No attachment.

No sense of belonging.

No loyalty.

That he would never willingly remain beneath another man.

That he would never accept kneeling forever.

But after reminding himself so many times, after repeating it so many times, it became difficult not to feel that his mouth denied what his body admitted.

If he truly asked his own heart, he liked Great Yan.

What he liked was not Little Sixth.

Not the Emperor of Yan.

Not the Great Yan court.

Not even the people, customs, or culture of Great Yan.

What he liked, or perhaps, what he had unconsciously become accustomed to, was charging beneath that Black Dragon Banner with rows of Great Yan cavalry clad in black armor.

Charging together.

Killing together.

Grinding every enemy before them, no matter which state they came from, into dust.

There was no refined essay to write about that kind of affection.

It was too direct.

But if he forced himself to claim he loved this land with some profound, sentimental depth, that would feel equally false and affected.

“Tiger!”

“Tiger!”

“Tiger!”

More than ten thousand riders raised their sabers and roared.

Count Pingye drew Wuyai and lifted it high.

Far away, one group after another of soldiers and civilians continued arriving.

Their numbers were enormous.

At an ordinary major ceremony, if the spectators were mostly commoners, local yamen runners plus a few Capital Garrison troops would have been enough to maintain order.

But this was still effectively the front line.

Most of the crowd consisted of soldiers.

They were nowhere near as easy to manage as civilians.

So the organizers had used a trick in advance.

They deliberately announced the wrong direction for Count Pingye’s entry into the city.

As a result, the soldiers from other commands only began reaching this side now.

And by now, more than ten thousand Jingnan Army riders had already sealed off the road.

This arrangement also took into account the fact that Count Pingye’s prestige inside the army was far too high.

Add the symbolic importance of being made Marquis through military merit in Great Yan, and it was easy for these rough soldiers to become overexcited.

So fool them away first.

Stabilize the order.

Prepare the scene properly.

It was absolutely necessary.

The campaign against Chu had ended in a great victory.

Army morale was at its peak.

Then this scene poured another jar of spirits into the fire.

For a time, cheers rose and fell like mountains roaring and seas surging.

Fortunately, every group of soldiers who had come to watch still had officers among them capable of maintaining order.

Fortunately, the Jingnan Army cavalry had already secured the grounds.

Otherwise, tens of thousands of soldiers might genuinely have surged forward, lifted Count Pingye bodily into the air, and passed him overhead from hand to hand.

In Qian, the true fine sons of the realm were those whose names were proclaimed at Donghua Gate.

In Chu, the genuine elites were those of distinguished bloodline who moved gracefully beside the Mijiang in flowing sleeves.

In Great Yan, those who earned military merit were heroes.

Count Pingye did not know whether, had he been born in Qian, he would also have loved the romantic pleasures of Jiangnan, embracing a courtesan queen with one arm while holding a book of poetry in the other.

But right now, Count Pingye truly enjoyed this rough, plain atmosphere.

“Ooooooh!”

“Ooooooh!”

Horns sounded.

These were horns for gathering troops.

After all, these soldiers had only just come down from the campaign against Chu.

The moment they heard the horns, they immediately began restoring order.

At that moment, a young eunuch holding a fly-whisk hurried forward.

Amid the rough soldiers surrounding him, he looked weak and helpless as a quail.

Visible beads of sweat covered his forehead.

He reached Count Pingye and raised a jade pendant in one hand.

“Zheng Fan, Garrison Commander of Great Yan’s Snow Sea Pass, General-in-Chief of the Great Cheng State, Imperial Son-in-Law, and Count Pingye, ride forward and hear the proclamation!”

The jade pendant in the young eunuch’s hand had been bestowed by the Emperor of Yan.

Here, it represented “as though We were personally present.”

By ordinary logic, an event as important as investing a Marquis in Great Yan should involve the Emperor himself.

But first, the distance was too great.

Second, the Emperor of Yan’s health made such a journey impossible.

So having His Majesty personally appear here to conduct the investiture could not happen.

Having Count Pingye travel to Yanjing for the ceremony, as he had done with the Princess at the beginning of the year, was equally unrealistic.

Eastern Jin was far too important.

Its arrangements and defenses had to be settled as quickly as possible.

Count Pingye did not dismount from the Pixiu.

Since the oral command specifically told him to ride forward, naturally there was no need.

He continued ahead.

Soon, a stretch of ground covered with yellow silk appeared.

Officials and attendants stood on either side.

“Count, please dismount.”

The Pixiu snorted unhappily.

Count Pingye climbed down and continued forward.

A group of young eunuchs lifted light gauze curtains around him.

“Count, please remove your armor.”

Several young eunuchs stepped forward and helped remove his armor.

When the gauze curtains were taken away, Count Pingye stood there wearing only the white undergarments beneath his armor.

“Ooooooh!”

The horns sounded again.

All around, soldiers began striking weapons against their own armor.

Gradually, the noise settled into a single rhythm.

Count Pingye continued forward.

Ahead, Li Fusheng and the other generals were waiting.

“His Majesty decrees: Count Pingye Zheng Fan is granted one suit of Black Qilin Battle Armor.”

Armor itself belonged among the ranks of “divine weapons and precious arms.”

The latter category did not include only sabers and swords.

Among common people, the value of one saber was often nowhere close to the value of a complete suit of armor.

Great Yan had existed for eight hundred years.

Naturally, the imperial palace could not possibly lack treasured armor.

Such armor was not necessarily precious because its materials were impossibly rare or because formations were embedded within it.

More often, its value lay in the marks history had left upon it.

To phrase it in a more sentimental way, its worth came from its historical weight.

Its former owner.

Its former stories.

The Black Qilin Battle Armor had been forged two hundred years earlier.

It once belonged to a Ji Clan imperial prince.

He later died in battle in the desert.

The armor was recovered and placed into the imperial treasury.

Of course, regardless of history or pedigree, the armor itself was unquestionably of outstanding quality.

Most importantly, its primary color was black.

Its brilliance remained restrained.

Only at close range could one see subtle streams of light across its surface, giving it an unmistakable air of great expense and prestige.

But no matter what, from far away it was no longer absurdly eye-catching.

Count Pingye released a long breath.

He was extremely satisfied with this armor.

At the same time, he felt immense relief.

He had finally escaped that previous set of imperially bestowed golden armor.

Li Fusheng, Ren Juan, Luo Ling, Gongsun Zhi, Gong Wang, and the other generals each carried one portion of the armor forward and personally helped Zheng Fan put it on.

Before every man stepped away, he deliberately punched Zheng Fan once on the shoulder.

Men of the army inevitably competed with one another.

But no one could deny that this former little brother before them had risen astonishingly quickly, yet his elevation to Marquis today still convinced them all.

His battle record was right there.

No one could find a serious flaw in it.

And with Prince of Jingnan supporting him so openly, the enormous prestige Prince of Jingnan possessed inside the army smoothed away whatever tiny thorn might still have remained in any man’s heart.

They were all exceptional military men.

They all understood the army’s rules.

They had all been soaked in its culture for years.

Inside the military, if you wanted to rise, ability came first.

Second still came connections.

Ability was the foundation.

It determined your minimum.

Connections determined the ceiling.

And when a colleague possessed both ability and opportunity to an extraordinary degree, there was only one response left: convinced.

Still, to claim these generals felt no envy while watching Zheng Fan become Marquis would obviously be false.

They more or less understood that the court seemed ready to set aside war for a while.

But that did not mean the horses would be released forever to graze on South Mountain.

Rest a few years.

Let the state recover for a few years.

Train the soldiers under them for a few more years.

Polish them for a few more years.

Then one day, winning a marquisate from horseback would be no empty dream.

There would still be wars to fight.

The Emperor of Yan had never said that unifying all the Xia realms was the mission and duty of every Great Yan general.

But in the eyes of these tiger generals of Yan, Chu, freshly beaten into pitiable condition, Qian, pitiful as ever, and even the old enemy in the desert, were all future steps on the ladder toward their own noble titles.

Years of continuous warfare had elevated the status of soldiers.

More men wanted to join the army.

The attraction of military merit burned hotter.

And with all of that came the rise of the military bloc itself.

Prince of Jingnan still lived.

The Emperor of Yan still lived.

The country’s present condition remained what it was.

So everyone could lower their heads and endure for now.

But this restraint was destined to be temporary.

Some men had already tasted meat.

The man standing before them was one.

But everyone else was still hungry.

The court had mobilized great armies in order to expand abroad.

And those armies, in turn, would inevitably begin binding and dragging national policy to some degree.

But that belonged to the future.

Once Zheng Fan was fully armored, he stood there and raised both hands.

Clenched his fists.

Then struck his own chest twice.

The gathered Garrison Commanders and generals stepped back several paces.

They formed a circle.

Then clasped their hands and bowed in respect.

Count Pingye’s noble rank was already higher than theirs.

But only by half a head.

And the true investiture had not yet begun.

The marquisate had not yet been formally confirmed.

Once he was truly made Marquis, these men would have to kneel when paying respects.

The rank of Marquis in Great Yan was genuinely a chasm.

This was not an imperial-clan marquisate.

This was a marquisate earned through military merit.

And barring an accident, four more words would be attached in front of it: hereditary in perpetuity.

Those words constituted formal recognition.

At the same time, they prepared the legal foundation for the frontier domain that would follow.

Without those four words, the marquisate would not feel complete.

Not dignified enough.

Not grand enough.

Most importantly, not sufficiently lawful and proper.

This time, Count Pingye did not return the salute.

He only nodded slightly.

Then the generals withdrew from the main path.

Dressed in black armor, Count Pingye walked forward.

“His Majesty decrees: Count Pingye is granted one Ashglow Cloak.”

“His Majesty decrees: Count Pingye is granted one Python-Seal Tiger Tally.”

“His Majesty decrees: Count Pingye is granted two four-clawed formal python robes.”

“His Majesty decrees...”

Every short distance he advanced, another eunuch came forward carrying an imperial gift.

One reward after another displayed the vastness of imperial favor.

At last, Zheng Fan reached the largest platform ahead.

He climbed the steps.

Eunuch Huang, the decree-bearing eunuch, stepped forward.

He opened the imperial edict.

“Zheng Fan, Garrison Commander of Great Yan’s Snow Sea Pass, General-in-Chief of the Great Cheng State, Imperial Son-in-Law, and Count Pingye, receive the imperial decree!”

“This subject receives the decree!”

Zheng Fan removed his helmet and set it beside him.

Then he knelt.

In an instant, the noise around them faded into silence.

Everyone already knew what today’s ceremony was for.

Everyone, whether participant or spectator, already knew the result.

Yet the moment that result was about to be formally declared, they still waited eagerly.

No.

With overwhelming anticipation.

Eunuch Huang was extremely satisfied with the silence surrounding such an enormous gathering.

He deliberately paused a moment longer before beginning:

“By mandate of Heaven, the Emperor decrees: Great Yan’s Count Pingye Zheng Fan has repeatedly earned military merit and opened territory for the realm. In the campaign against Chu, he exalted the might of Our Great Yan, bringing great comfort to Our heart...”

When an edict came directly from the Emperor of Yan’s own brush, it was often extremely casual.

But this formal literary style obviously came from some minister drafting it before the imperial seal was applied.

The decree reviewed Count Pingye’s military achievements since the day he entered service.

Then it repeated the Emperor of Yan’s principle that merit must be rewarded.

Then it called upon the people of Great Yan to take Zheng Fan as an example and serve the state.

At last, “Therefore...”

Eunuch Huang paused.

Imperial decrees were sealed.

According to ritual, even the eunuch charged with proclaiming one could not open it early along the road.

Naturally, he already knew the general contents.

But the decree in his hands had been opened from the treasure case only moments earlier, before everyone present.

This was genuinely the first time he had seen the exact wording.

“Therefore... Zheng Fan. The rank of Marquis, We grant it to you. Hereditary in perpetuity, We grant you that as well! We have not treated you poorly. Great Yan has not treated you poorly! You, Zheng Fan, should know what Our lifelong ambition is. Guard the snowfield well for Us. Watch Chu well for Us too. The lands of the Three Jin have entered Yan territory. So long as eastern Jin is held, the whole of the Three Jin will know peace. We hope to see that a hundred years from now, the banner of your Marquis of Pingxi Residence still flies over eastern Jin! Make the Savages. Make the Chu. Fear it the way the Barbarians fear Great Yan today. Let them see it and tremble. Today, you, Zheng Fan, guard Great Yan’s frontier. The Ji Clan promises your Zheng Clan a century-long Marquis Residence!”

That final passage had unquestionably come from the Emperor of Yan personally.

Either written in his own hand or dictated word for word.

It violated proper ritual terribly.

But that emperor no longer had much ritual capable of restraining him.

“This subject Zheng Fan thanks His Majesty for the boundless imperial grace!”

Zheng Fan kowtowed.

Then he raised both hands and opened his palms.

Eunuch Huang stepped forward and placed the imperial decree into Zheng Fan’s hands.

With a flattering smile, he said:

“Marquis, this slave offers his congratulations. Please wait a moment longer. Marquis of Le’an will bestow the cap upon you and complete the ceremony.”

The cap to be bestowed was the formal court cap of a Marquis.

In other words, the official hat.

Marquis of Le’an was the imperial envoy presiding over the ceremony.

He was the Emperor of Yan’s youngest brother.

Here, he represented the Emperor.

Marquis of Le’an, who wore a handsome long beard, stepped forward holding the court cap.

He came before Zheng Fan.

Marquis Zheng raised his head and looked at him.

Marquis of Le’an responded with a warm smile.

It was true that he was the Emperor’s own younger brother.

But truthfully, before this particular Emperor of Yan, Marquis of Le’an had never possessed the slightest improper thought.

He had spent his life walking on eggshells.

Le’an.

Le’an.

Peaceful happiness.

Just from the title, one could roughly guess what kind of life His Majesty wanted him to live.

Even for the sake of his descendants, he could not afford to offend a newly rising Great Yan Marquis of military merit.

But before Marquis of Le’an could place the court cap on Marquis Zheng’s head, Marquis Zheng slowly stood.

Both Eunuch Huang and Marquis of Le’an froze in surprise.

Marquis Zheng did not seem to care.

He simply smiled at Marquis of Le’an.

The imperial clansman swallowed reflexively.

He was nothing more than an idle noble blessed with a good life.

His elder brother had already ascended the throne before Marquis of Le’an himself reached adulthood.

So despite being a member of the imperial clan, he had never truly seen much of the world.

Now, under the direct gaze of Marquis Zheng standing before him, his body actually began trembling slightly.

Marquis and Marquis could be utterly different things.

Not merely because the weight of their titles differed.

The men themselves could stand worlds apart.

“Marquis, this...”

Marquis of Le’an no longer knew what to say.

He simply stood there holding the court cap, completely at a loss.

Marquis Zheng reached out.

Openly and naturally, he took the court cap from Marquis of Le’an’s hands.

Then he turned to face the platform below.

At that moment, countless blazing, reverent gazes rested upon him.

Marquis Zheng raised the court cap.

And with his own hands, placed it upon his own head.

[End of Chapter 605]