Section Twenty-Eight

Once the reinforcements arrived, the subsequent battle held no suspense whatsoever, and the process proved exceedingly tedious. Initially, Wang Chengye attempted to dispatch small units under the cover of night to slip out of the city, utilizing the canal to launch surprise attacks on the Han army's outposts or harass the artillery batteries under construction. However, after suffering a few minor setbacks, the Han army quickly wised up. Leveraging their massive manpower advantage, they rapidly constructed a multitude of small cannons and matchlock bastards, vastly strengthening their frontline firepower. Under such rigorous vigilance, small-scale elite forces could no longer achieve results. Consequently, the defenders of Dezhou were forced to adopt a much more conservative tactic, sealing the city gates with molten iron and stones to wage a passive, one-sided defense.

As the engineering works gradually improved, the operational picture finally cleared up. The terrifying might of nearly one hundred and fifty red-coat heavy cannons taught everyone a lesson. Never before in the history of the Earth had such a vast number of large-caliber artillery pieces been concentrated on a single battlefield. Thus, no one present had ever imagined that humankind could unleash a scene so earth-shattering and volcanic. Although Wang Chengye had made ample preparations for the Han army's fire superiority prior to the battle—stashing large quantities of river sand and lime both within the city walls and inside the urban core—his lack of experience meant he simply had not anticipated that a simultaneous volley from a heavy artillery group could possess such devastating power.

This kind of spectacle was not entirely unprecedented in China. Just decades earlier, a similar scene had occurred when the Qing forces first entered the pass, and Ajige had shattered the morale of the Tongguan defenders using a mere eighteen red-coat cannons, let alone ten times that number today. Regrettably, while Wang Chengye was a veteran campaigner of some talent, he had never participated in a major urban siege defense, making his underestimation of artillery quite understandable.

Lin Feng had always maintained a high degree of vigilance regarding such matters. On a personal level, he was acutely aware of the power of peasant uprisings—or to be precise, he harbored a deep fear of them. Over the past few years, he had spared no effort in trying to resolve this issue, but unfortunately, most of his attempts had yielded little effect. In this era, seventy percent of government revenue derived directly from the peasantry. In essence, solving the problem was simple: merely reduce the burden on the farmers. Yet, doing so meant a reduction in government income, which in turn signaled a decline in the military mobilization capacity of the Greater Han Empire. In an era fraught with constant warfare, taking such a step was tantamount to suicide.

The absence of large-scale peasant rebellions within the empire's borders was due to several factors: First, the Greater Han military group possessed a formidable army that exerted a powerful deterrent across all strata of society. Second, the government maintained remarkably effective control over the population, particularly through the militia organizations managed by the military. Operating on a tiered system of mutual responsibility, these groups could nip most rebellions in the bud. Third, the presence of Yang Qilong's regime right next door served as a sobering example. For nearly a century, from Gao Yingxiang to Li Zicheng and Zhang Xianzhong, peasants had fought imperial courts for decades. Regardless of who won or lost, the common folk's lot remained largely unchanged. The vast majority understood that uprisings yielded no real results. Henan refugees fleeing from Yang Qilong's territory spread this bitter truth throughout the domains of the Greater Han. While most cared little for grand causes, they knew that under Lin Feng's rule, they at least had a plot of land to farm; choosing rebellion likely meant losing even that. The fourth reason was that over the past few years, the Han army government had carried out large-scale purges and retaliatory measures against the Eight Banners. The peasants in regions like Zhili and Liaodong, who had suffered immensely under the Banner men's enclosure of lands, vented their pent-up fury and derived varying degrees of benefit from the land revolution. The social environment felt relatively equitable, leaving many caught in psychological conflict and bewilderment when faced with government exactions.

Under these circumstances, the Greater Han Empire handled the "minor infractions" of these peasants with a remarkably low profile, treating most as criminal cases. Aside from the ringleaders and those bearing blood debts, the rest were given a mild reprimand and let off, eschewing brutal tactics intended to intimidate the populace.

The lingering issues surrounding tax collection had persisted for years, but this year they appeared far more acute. The primary reason was that the Han army government had fought far too many wars, and on too grand a scale, over the past twelve months. Due to protracted warfare, the economic resources of the Central Plains and Northern China had already been virtually squeezed dry by both the Qing court and the Greater Han. Compounding this, the mobilization of able-bodied men from vast regions to participate in the far-flung Shanxi expedition had disrupted the busy farming season, severely impacting agricultural yields. Confronted with unreduced tax demands, numerous peasants resorted to fiercely aggressive tactics. Criminal cases across the prefectures of Zhili and Shanxi surged dramatically. Taking the Baoding and Zhending prefectures in Zhili alone as examples, the Censorate's garrison troops deployed hundreds of times, arresting nearly three thousand individuals. In isolated locales, the situation turned critical: entire villages participated in anti-tax activities, staging armed standoffs with the suppressing garrison troops, and were ultimately bloodily suppressed, with all the males in those villages executed en masse. Lin Feng's handling of these affairs bore an uncanny resemblance to a lottery draw; the lucky convicts who managed to secure a pardon were no different from winning the lottery jackpot.

He recalled that around this time last year, Lin Feng had dealt with these matters quite perfunctorily. Back then, he spent most of his time wandering through military camps, pouring ninety percent of his energy into military affairs. Now, however, as the situation gradually stabilized, many previously overlooked issues began to command his attention. Upon reviewing a batch of these case files, he immediately recognized the underlying governance crisis they represented and dispatched orders summoning Chen Menglei and other officials to personally inquire about the relevant details.

A substantial number of Censorate officials arrived, numbering no less than twenty. Because the sheer volume of cases was so overwhelming, the transmitting guards failed to fully grasp Lin Feng's intent, leading Chen Menglei to arrive somewhat bewildered. With no other option, he had brought along all the key heads of the Censorate's Three Judicial Offices to the Han Prince's Mansion in Zhongnanhai.

"Your ministers pay homage to Your Highness the Prince of Han—may the Prince live for a thousand years!"

Ignoring the other officials, Lin Feng settled into his seat at the upper dais and addressed Chen Menglei, "Zezhen, dispense with the formalities. The reason I summoned you here today is precisely on account of... of these autumn executions!" His gaze swept levelly across the heads of the assembled officials. Wherever his eyes fell, the officials lowered their heads to avoid his gaze. He continued slowly, "If I recall correctly, last year's roster of condemned prisoners numbered barely over nine hundred, yet this year it has abruptly surged to twenty-six hundred. My dear ministers, who among you can explain this to me?!"

Chen Menglei bowed low, cupping his hands. "We are devoid of virtue, and the customs of the scholars and commoners have deteriorated so thoroughly that lawless acts abound. We beseech Your Highness to punish us!"

"We are not here for empty rhetoric today!" Lin Feng waved a hand impatiently, staring hard at Chen Menglei. "Zezhen, I ask for nothing else. Since so many are to be executed this year, as the Censor-in-Chief of the Inspectorate, you ought to have something to say!"

"In reply to Your Highness, this year's troubles stem largely from tax disputes. Many of these crimes involve clashes with local government offices that unfortunately resulted in fatalities. While their circumstances are deserving of pity, state law is merciless, and we have no choice but to act in accordance with the statutes!"

Lin Feng nodded. "Since you admit their circumstances are pitiable, can we not show leniency and release them all?"

"Forgive Your Highness, but I believe that is out of the question!" Chen Menglei frowned. "Farming the land and paying taxes are the immutable laws of heaven and earth. Resisting taxes is inexcusable. The pity I spoke of is merely sympathy for their ignorance and the destitution of their families, not for the offenders themselves."

Lin Feng paused, staring coldly at Chen Menglei for a long moment, momentarily unsure whether the man was speaking his true mind or merely spouting bureaucratic jargon. Suspiciously, he asked, "Do you not feel that our corvée labor was excessively heavy this year, and that these people are not entirely beyond redemption?"

"In reply to Your Highness!" Chen Menglei replied with a bitter smile, "I know as much, but we cannot grant them immunity on that grounds." He raised his head, locking eyes with Lin Feng, and sighed softly. "Does Your Highness know that if we start arguing along those lines, the fault will ultimately lie with our court—there is simply no logic in this world where the imperial court is wrong and the commoners are right! If we commute their sentences this time, where will the court's authority reside in the future? Will we still collect taxes hereafter? If they resist taxes again next year, should the court arrest them? Should we execute them?"

These words struck Lin Feng like a heavy club, leaving him dizzy and disoriented. Stunned into silence for a long while, he finally managed a wry smile. "Then... by your reckoning, we must execute at least several thousand people this year? Do you realize that an autumn execution numbering in the thousands is unprecedented in any dynasty? Are you trying to saddle me with such infamy?!"

"This rests entirely with Your Highness. If Your Highness feels compassion, an imperial decree of grace may be issued, and this minister would never dare disobey!"

"Are you saying I must shoulder this alone?" Lin Feng grew slightly irritated. "If I possessed such omnipotence, what need would I have for your Censorate?" Agitated, he leaped to his feet, pointing at the assembled officials. "Are all of you officials just living off sinecures? Well?!—"

Startled, the officials in the hall dropped to their knees in unison, repeatedly pleading for mercy.

Lin Feng's anger subsided slightly. He reseated himself and turned to Chen Menglei. "Zezhen, how do you propose this autumn execution be handled?"

Chen Menglei sighed, his voice dry. "In reply to Your Highness, in truth, I believe the fault may not lie with the common people. Since the founding of this dynasty, continuous warfare has left the populace utterly exhausted. If we truly desire peace, we must allow the people to recuperate and temporarily halt military campaigns..." He stole a glance at Lin Feng, and seeing that the prince's expression remained calm and unprovoked, he ventured further advice. "Reporting to Your Highness, in my view, the lives of these few thousand death-row inmates are truly insignificant compared to the dynastic state. Even if we make a great fuss and let them off lightly this time, what of it? Pardoning these few thousand at most temporarily allays popular resentment, but when the season turns next year, we will face another batch of 'twenty-six hundred condemned prisoners'!"

"You mean to say that showing grace now only treats the symptoms, and halting the wars is the only cure?"

"Your Highness is wise!" Chen Menglei shouted in assent, dropping to his knees first, prompting the remaining officials to hurriedly follow suit.

Lin Feng was struck with a severe headache. According to the military plans formulated beforehand, once the Shandong issue was resolved, the next step was to eliminate Yang Qilong in Henan. Yet, at this moment, internal contradictions within the empire were rife, and the bottom-tier populace harbored deep resentment, teetering on the edge of explosion. The urgent need for recuperation directly contradicted his military plans. What a difficult dilemma to weigh!

Seeing Lin Feng's expression flicker between light and shadow, hesitant and undecided, Chen Menglei spoke in a low voice, "Reporting to Your Highness... given that the current situation within our dynasty remains unsettled and minor factions in the outer provinces are stirring up trouble... I believe it would be wiser to defer this matter..."

Lin Feng asked in surprise, "How so?"

"In reply to Your Highness, my humble view is that the number of people condemned this autumn is simply too high. If the executions are too severe, the common people will inevitably harbor deep grievances, and rival lords outside our borders will certainly seize the opportunity to slander us, damaging the prestige of Great Han. Therefore, it would be better to execute a few hundred of the most heinous criminals, while as for the rest..." He paused to think, "...the remaining death-row inmates should have their sentences commuted by one degree and be exiled to the frontier regions such as Nurgan, Xuanhua, and Rehe!"

Lin Feng nodded. "That is not a bad idea."

Chen Menglei smiled slightly and was about to speak further when an official behind him suddenly stepped forward and shouted, "Reporting to the Prince of Han, this minister has a matter to memorialize!"

Taken aback, Lin Feng asked, "What matter?"

The kneeling official was garbed in the attire of a civil official of the fifth rank and possessed a lean frame. Whether from nervousness or excitement, his body trembled continuously. Frowning, Lin Feng asked, "What is your name?"

"Thanks to Your Highness for inquiring. This minister's surname is Wu, given name Zhirong, currently serving as a Supervising Secretary in the Censorate's Office of Petitions."

Lin Feng was stunned for a moment before abruptly stepping down from the dais, walking right up to him, and staring at him closely for a long time. Stunned, he suddenly burst into laughter. "So... so you are Wu Zhirong?!"

Startled, Wu Zhirong instinctively touched his face and asked incredulously, "Could it be... could it be... ahem, ahem... Reporting to Your Highness, this... this minister is indeed... Wu Zhirong..." His face flushed bright red, and he stammered awkwardly, unable to finish his sentence.

Lin Feng laughed without stopping, panting as he said, "Heh, so you are that Wu Zhirong... I've heard a great deal about you, truly a pleasure..."

He laughed for so long that the roomful of officials stared at one another in bewilderment. Looking at Wu Zhirong in utter astonishment, they all regarded him with newfound respect. Usually, this man appeared entirely unremarkable, yet it turned out he had connections reaching the heavens. They truly had failed to recognize a titan in their midst. Chen Menglei, standing at the front, felt cold sweat streaming down his back and instantly resolved to promote, heavily employ, and carefully cultivate this man upon returning.

Wu Zhirong felt deeply embarrassed. Kneeling on the ground, he cupped his hands and said, "Thank you, Your Highness... for this... praise... this humble minister is entirely undeserving!"

"Deserving, how could you not deserve it?" Lin Feng looked at him with a smile. "Lord Wu, did you formerly serve as the Prefect of Yangzhou?"

Wu Zhirong answered in surprise, "In reply to Your Highness, this minister has always been an official in the capital and has never set foot in Yangzhou in his life!"

Lin Feng looked at him in astonishment, realizing he must have mistaken the person. "Then you must have handled the *History of Ming* literary case!"

Wu Zhirong shook his head with a bitter smile, knowing the Prince had mistaken him again. "Reporting to Your Highness, this minister is a native of Baoqing Prefecture in Hunan, a successful Jinshi candidate of the second rank from the thirteenth year of the pseudo-Shunzhi reign, and has always served in the Ministry of Rites. The *History of Ming* case was personally handled back then by the Manchu prince-regent Oboi of the pseudo-Kangxi court, and even the Ministry of Punishments merely assisted. How could it ever fall to this minister to handle?"

"Very well, never mind then," Lin Feng said, deeply disappointed. He shook his head and pointed at Wu Zhirong. "Then... what is Lord Wu's business?"

Wu Zhirong kowtowed a few times, straightened his posture on his knees, and spoke with solemn gravity, "Reporting to Your Highness, this minister petitions Your Highness to issue an order banning a seditious book!"

Lin Feng frowned. At that moment, it suddenly occurred to him that this person seemed to have previously caused trouble for Wu Meicun—it was truly strange why he always liked to pick a fight with figures in the cultural circle. Nevertheless, he had no choice but to ask, "What book?"

"In reply to Your Highness, the book is called *Outlaws of the Marsh*!"

Lin Feng could not help drawing in a sharp breath of cold air, asking in astonishment, "What did you say?—You want me to ban *Outlaws of the Marsh*?"

"Precisely!" Wu Zhirong's expression was grave, bearing no trace of a joke. "Reporting to Your Highness, Your Highness may not know that this book was written by a down-and-out scholar in the early Ming dynasty. It chronicles a pack of fugitive bandits and outlaws who take to the greenwood, specializing in highway robbery, harassing localities, and rebelling against the court as their primary occupation. Every line of its text is saturated with rebellious sentiments. It circulates widely among the common folk and does great harm to public morals. Therefore, for the sake of educating the people and upholding ethical norms and cardinal principles, this minister entreats Your Highness to issue a decree banning this book as early as possible, to serve as a warning to the subjects of our dynasty!"

Lin Feng looked at him coldly, his tone growing gradually stern. "How do you know this book corrupts public morals? Let me tell you, Lord Wu, our Great Han court is a court that relies on evidence. We can never do things without proof!"

Undaunted, Wu Zhirong cupped his hands to Lin Feng and replied, "Reporting to Your Highness, in truth, this minister used to be dismissive, thinking it was merely a storyteller's yarn to be laughed off. However, these past few days, I heard from my household servants that there are quite a few teahouses in our capital where the storytellers frequently recount this book to the patrons..."

Lin Feng grew increasingly impatient and was about to issue a reprimand when Wu Zhirong continued, "...And I also heard from my family that several of those storytellers happen to speak with a distinct Henan accent..."

Lin Feng was jolted awake. He forcefully swallowed back the reprimand that had risen to his lips and instantly developed a higher regard for this man. Truly, this fellow possessed a remarkably sharp sense of smell; how on earth did he figure out that he was about to make a move against Yang Qilong?

Changing his expression entirely, he personally reached out to help Wu Zhirong up, then turned to face the assembled officials with a solemn countenance. "Lord Wu is entirely correct. Such licentious and depraved books as *Outlaws of the Marsh* must be strictly investigated, severely dealt with, and banned by our Great Han once and for all!"