How can one be Emperor Chongzhen without money?

Chapter 20 Victory is the Standard for Testing a Wise Ruler (Please add to your favorites and vote with monthly tickets)

Wang Dengku, a merchant from Shanxi, who was kneeling beside the ranks of nobles, was initially indifferent to the weary-looking procession, just like Duke Dingguo Xu Xigao and the others. He was preoccupied with figuring out how to deal with the potential tax audit.

This young emperor is too impulsive. Not only is he forcing eunuch officials to pay bribes, but now he's also eyeing the military farmland occupied by nobles! It's only a matter of time before the investigation reaches this Shanxi merchant.

We need to plan ahead!

But when the strong, salty, putrid stench hit him, he instinctively looked up. His gaze swept over the grotesque heads half-covered by salt grains.

Suddenly, his eyes were fixed on the long spear that Xu Qinian was carrying on his shoulder as he rode a tall horse!

The third head impaled on the spearhead, though covered in salt and blood, had a conspicuous scar near its left temple and distorted yet still vaguely recognizable features. It slammed into his heart like a club!

Wang Dengku shuddered violently! He had been traveling between Xuanfu and Mongolia for many years and had done a lot of business with Shubude, the Taiji of the Doyan Guard. He had even seen this unruly Mongolian leader once while drinking with him.

That scar was a mark left when Shu Bu was young, from fighting over a woman. He used to brag about it like a treasure!

"Can't...can't be bound?!" Wang Dengku gurgled in his throat, his voice extremely low, yet filled with disbelief and horror! Several noble servants beside him heard the commotion and turned to look at him in surprise.

Wang Dengku suddenly lowered his head, pressing his forehead hard against the cold brick floor. His body trembled uncontrollably, and cold sweat instantly soaked through his undershirt.

Unbearable! Absolutely unbearable! That Mongol warlord who roamed freely east of the Yanshan Mountains, controlling the trade route from Zhangjiakou to Liaodong, whom he had recently bribed with generous gifts to seek their assistance… his head, now like a pickled pig's head, was strung on a Ming soldier's spear and displayed for all to see inside the Andingmen Gate of Beijing!

A chill ran from Wang Dengku's tailbone straight to the top of his head!
Over the years, he has smuggled a lot of ironware and gunpowder out of the Great Wall! The territory of the Doyan Guard and the Kharachin Mongols is the only way to the Great Jin Kingdom... If the young emperor really pacifies Daming, will he find out something?
"Ugh..." Someone in the crowd finally couldn't hold on any longer and vomited on the spot.

Many more people turned pale and trembled uncontrollably. After the nausea subsided, a sense of unease began to creep over many.

This young emperor... he's not some ambitious, hot-headed brat at all! He's clearly... clearly a god of war descended upon the world!
Six or seven thousand!

They're all Tartar heads!

It's pickled in salt!

It stinks!

Even Shu Bu's head is hanging here!
What does this tell us?!

This shows that just over ten days ago, these hideous heads were still growing on the necks of lively, fierce, and brutal Tartars!
This shows that the "exhausted troops" they had just looked down upon had returned treading on mountains of corpses and seas of blood! This shows that the so-called "great victory" was a complete and utter annihilation!
This proves that the great victory at Jizhou was indeed true!

They beheaded six or seven thousand Tartars in one go! Even Shu Bu didn't escape!

This "victory"... it's more than just "great"! It's an earth-shattering achievement! It's the most glorious victory the Ming Dynasty has ever achieved against the northern barbarians since the reigns of Emperor Taizu and Emperor Chengzu!

For a moment, the entire area inside and outside Andingmen fell silent.

Only the sounds of horses' hooves, footsteps, and the buzzing of flies, along with the thick, pungent stench of decay, silently testified to the cruelty and reality of this "triumphant return."

The elders forgot what they were going to say, their faces filled with extreme shock and disbelief, their lips trembling, unable to utter a single word.

The resentment and sneers on the faces of the nobles had long since frozen, turning into a deathly fear. Xu Xigao stole a glance at Wang Dengku's trembling back, and recalling the suppressed gasp from just now, any remaining hope in his heart vanished.

Looking at the heads dangling from those spears, and then thinking about the Emperor's offer of "two hundred acres for one armored soldier," they felt a chill run down their spines—did the Emperor really have a powerful army capable of cutting off so many Tartar heads and even slaughtering the barbarians?!

Should they provide manpower... or land?!

If no one wants to contribute... then what can be used to defend against it?
The Donglin faction's upright officials forgot their indignation and disappointment. Several veteran officials, including Sun Chengzong and Li Banghua, wept uncontrollably (partly from the smoke, partly from emotion), their bodies trembling violently, murmuring, "Heaven blesses the Ming Dynasty… Heaven blesses… His Majesty is divinely mighty…"

The candidates were utterly shocked. Shi Kefa clenched his fists so tightly his nails dug into his flesh; Guan Shaoning stared in disbelief, Zhuang Yinghui's face flushed red, and Huang Zongxi's eyes gleamed as he stared intently at the heads of the Tartars, then looked towards the carriage. A thought raced through his mind: Perhaps… this emperor could truly revive the Ming Dynasty? Emperor Chongzhen, Zhu Youjian, sat upright in his carriage, the curtains drawn, blocking out the pungent stench outside. He closed his eyes to rest, his face expressionless, as if the deafening shouts of "Long live the emperor!" and the sounds of vomiting outside had nothing to do with him.

And this pervasive "salty stench" was a "generous gift" that Zhu Youjian presented to the lifeless city of Beijing and to the court officials, each with their own agendas.

Ciqing Palace.

Empress Zhang (Empress Yi'an) sat in the warm pavilion, her fingers twirling a string of Buddhist prayer beads, her brow furrowed, deep in worry. Zhou Yufeng stood to the side, her fingers unconsciously twisting her handkerchief, her eyes occasionally glancing out the window.

A trusted eunuch rushed in, his voice brimming with barely suppressed excitement: "Your Majesty! His Majesty... His Majesty's imperial procession has arrived outside Anding Gate! It's a triumphant return to the capital!"

Zhou Yufeng's eyes lit up, and she clasped her hands together, saying, "Amitabha! May the Bodhisattva protect us! His Majesty has returned safely!"

Empress Zhang's tense shoulders relaxed slightly, but she immediately pressed on, "Triumphant return? What kind of triumphant return? The Tartars..."

The eunuch's voice trembled slightly, more so with lingering shock: "Your Majesty, His Majesty... His Majesty brought back thousands of Tartar heads! Salted... strung on spears... The smell... The sight... The whole area inside and outside Andingmen was in an uproar!"

“Thousands of them… salted…” Zhou Yufeng’s face turned pale instantly, her stomach churned, and she quickly covered her mouth with her hand, forcing herself not to vomit.

She imagined the scene of mountains of corpses and seas of blood, and her body swayed.

Empress Zhang suddenly stood up, the Buddhist prayer beads in her hand falling to the ground with a "clatter"! Her eyes initially widened in shock, but that shock melted away like ice and snow, transforming into an indescribable, almost fanatical light! She grabbed Zhou Yufeng's cold hand, her voice trembling with emotion:
"Yu Feng! Did you hear that?! Thousands of Tartar heads! Salted! They've been brought back!"

Zhou Yufeng was stunned by Empress Zhang's sudden excitement.

Looking at her usually composed and dignified sister-in-law, whose cheeks were flushed with emotion and whose eyes were glistening with tears—a far cry from her usual self—she couldn't help but ask timidly:
"Your Majesty...you...didn't you say just a few days ago that His Majesty's rash use of troops, putting himself in danger, was not the behavior of a wise ruler, and that I should offer him more advice? This...this massacre..."

“Silly child!” Empress Zhang interrupted her, her tone resolute, carrying a clear-eyed understanding of the world. “He was captured by Esen of the Oirat, that was a rash and foolish ruler! The one who could bring back thousands of Tatar heads from Shubu’s army to Beijing…” She took a deep breath, enunciating each word as if making a declaration:
"That's someone like Emperor Taizu Gaozu or Emperor Chengzu Wenzu!"

North of Beijing, below the Drum Tower.

The imperial carriage slowly made its way here, the bustling crowd separated by the ceremonial procession, and the surroundings became slightly quieter. The rumbling sound of the wheels rolling over the bluestone slabs could be clearly heard.

Just then, the hanging blue satin curtain was lifted from the inside by a slender hand.

Emperor Chongzhen peeked out, his gaze calmly sweeping over Wei Zhongxian, who stood beside the carriage. The old eunuch bowed, trying to appear composed.

"Wei Banban," Chongzhen said in a low voice.

Wei Zhongxian shuddered and quickly stepped forward, his face almost touching the carriage shaft: "This old servant is here!"

Chongzhen's gaze passed over him and landed in the northwest, where Jishuitan was located.

"I won't return to the palace yet," Chongzhen said calmly, his tone still composed.

Wei Zhongxian's heart skipped a beat, and an ominous premonition instantly gripped him.

Then, Chongzhen's next sentence pierced his heart like ice shards: "Go to the Jishuitan camp."

"broken……"

Wei Zhongxian felt a buzzing in his head, and his vision blurred with stars. The Jishuitan Camp! That was the location of the Tengxiang Four Guards and the Zhongyong Battalion, both under the supervision of the Imperial Horse Guards, and... and the Jingjun Camp, which he had cultivated for many years as his last trump card!
The emperor had just displayed his bloody military exploits at Anding Gate, and now he's heading straight for his own troops?!
What... what are they trying to do?!
Wei Zhongxian's face turned deathly pale. His lips trembled, and he couldn't utter a single word. He could only lower his head deeply and squeeze out a few words with all his might: "This...this old servant obeys the decree..."

The carriage curtain slowly fell, obscuring that young yet unfathomable face.

(End of this chapter)