Huangming

Chapter 313 The struggle for the Khan's throne erupts, shaking the capital.

Inside Fushun city.

The screams of Li Yongfang's family being subjected to slow slicing pierced the streets and alleys, like dull knives repeatedly scraping at people's hearts.

The residence temporarily requisitioned by Fourth Prince Huang Taiji.

Ajige lifted the curtain and entered, his face filled with barely suppressed resentment. As soon as he entered, he said to Huang Taiji in a deep voice:

“Eighth Brother! You relied on Li Yongfang so much before, why won’t you protect him this time? Although he has a rebellious son, his contributions to the Great Jin are undeniable! If you are willing to speak up, Father Khan might agree. Those Han people will surely follow your lead in the future when they see you protecting them!”

Huang Taiji sat at his desk, his face even more somber than Ajige's.

He looked up at his younger brother, who was filled with hidden anger, and after a moment of silence, he slowly exhaled a breath of stale air: "The situation is different now."

“What’s different?” Azige pressed.

“I protected the Han people before because they were indeed useful.”

Huang Taiji's voice carried a hint of weariness.

"The Han Bannermen are familiar with the customs and conditions of Han lands, can procure provisions for us, and can manage cities for us—things the Jurchen Eight Banners cannot do. But now..."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the intercepted secret letters on the table.

These were all written by Han soldiers to the Ming army in Shenyang, detailing the Jurchens' defenses and the movement of their provisions.

"Leaving aside Liu Xingzuo and Li Yangeng's successive betrayals of the Jin, let's just talk about the Battle of Shenyang. In the latter half, Xiong Tingbi had a thorough understanding of my troop deployments, and the defenses on the south bank of the Hun River repeatedly anticipated my offensives. Why do you think that was?"

Ajige was taken aback, then remembered the Han scouts who had been killed, and his expression gradually changed.

"These Han Chinese were receiving our rations and pay while secretly sending messages to the Ming army."

Huang Taiji pushed the secret letter in front of Ajige.

"Among them, too many are two-faced, seemingly submitting but actually loyal to the Ming court. How can such people be trusted?"

He stood up, walked to the window, and gazed at the faint screams coming from the direction of the torture chamber in the distance, his eyes as cold as ice.

"The fire in Hetu Ala exposed Li Yangeng's wolfish ambitions; the stalemate under the walls of Shenyang made me see the true nature of these Han people. They are, after all, Han people, and to them, we are nothing more than forced dependents. Given the chance, they will turn around and bite us."

"Since it is untrustworthy, keeping it will only bring trouble, so it is naturally unusable."

Ajige fell silent.

Although he was hot-tempered, he understood what Huang Taiji meant.

The Han Chinese soldiers who surrendered over the years brought many conveniences, but the hidden risks were fully exposed after Hetu Ala was burned.

The father's rage, though perhaps extreme, was not entirely without reason.

“But if that happens, I’m afraid no Han Chinese will dare to submit to us anymore,” Ajige said in a low voice.

"submission?"

Huang Taiji sneered, unimpressed.

"The Jin dynasty's rule will ultimately be won by the iron hooves of the Jurchen Eight Banners. The Han people can be used when needed, and discarded when not."

The candlelight flickered in his eyes, reflecting a hint of ruthlessness.

Trust, once broken, is hard to put back together.

Since the Han people could not be relied upon, he simply blocked this path.

Using the swords and spears of the Eight Banners soldiers, they carved out a path that belonged to the Great Jin Dynasty.

"Or to put it more plainly, as long as the Jin cavalry sweeps across Liaodong and becomes powerful enough, these Han people will naturally grovel and submit, even if it's just to survive."

But once the Jin dynasty shows signs of decline, even if you bestow official titles, ranks, and fertile land upon them, they may not appreciate it. Instead, they might see you as a spent force and turn to the Ming court.

Huang Taiji's gaze grew increasingly somber: "Li Yangeng betrayed the Jin and burned Hetu Ala, a crime punishable by the extermination of nine generations of his family according to the law. Even if I plead with my father, the Khan, it will only bring trouble upon myself, earning me the reputation of 'favoring the Han dogs.' Besides..."

He changed the subject, lowered his voice, and a glint of something unfathomable flashed in his eyes: "The focus now is not on these Han people, but on Father Khan."

"Father Khan?"

Ajige was stunned, his brows furrowing.

"What does this have to do with Father Khan?"

"I'm afraid Father's health won't hold up."

Huang Taiji spoke slowly.

"Yesterday in Hetu Ala, Father Khan witnessed the city being burned down and his family members dying tragically. He vomited blood on the spot and fainted. You didn't know about this, did you?"

Ajige's eyes widened suddenly, his face filled with shock: "Father Khan vomited blood? I had no idea!"

He has been busy these days gathering up the remnants of his forces and retreating to Fushun, and has not received a single word of it.

Huang Taiji did not respond to Ajige's words.

His gaze swept across the window, as if he could see through the night to the ruins of Hetu Ala.

"The key now is the sweating point."

Ajige was shocked and finally understood what Huang Taiji meant.

Father is old and has suffered such a severe injury; his health must be deteriorating badly.

Once that day comes, the struggle for the Khanate will inevitably turn into a bloodbath.

Daišan held two Red Banners, Mangultai had the support of the Plain Blue Banner, and although he and Dorgon were young, they also had some power due to their mother Abahai's favor with their father, the Khan...

It's no secret that all sides are eyeing this covetously.

At this moment, Huang Taiji slowly said:
"My father hates Han traitors the most. If I were to protect Li Yongfang now, wouldn't I be going against his wishes?"

“Father Khan will only think that I am trying to win over the Han people and have forgotten my roots. At this time, I must not do anything that might arouse Father Khan’s suspicion.”

Ajige fell silent, but a layer of cold sweat seeped out from his back.

He had never thought about this aspect.

It turns out that the myna bird had already made such a clear plan for the struggle for the Khan's throne without making a sound.

"You just asked me how I knew my father was vomiting blood?"

Huang Taiji continued, "It was Sanggarzhai Taiji, son of Beile Ming'an of the Khorchin tribe, who sent the message by fast horse. In order to deliver the message before anyone else, his men killed three good horses in the process."

"The Khorchin tribe?"

Ajige's brow furrowed even more.

The Khorchin were a large Mongol tribe that had always been allied with the Jin Dynasty through marriage. Khorchin Beile Mangus was Huang Taiji's father-in-law.

Their delivery of this message at this moment is undoubtedly a gamble, an attempt to curry favor with the future Khan in advance.

But since the Khorchin have bet on the myna, which tribes are supporting Daishan and Mangultai?
Ula tribe?
Huifa Department?
Or other Mongolian tribes?

The more Ajige thought about it, the heavier his heart became.

The father Khan is still alive, but the undercurrents surrounding the Khan's position have already surged into a raging tide, and even external tribes have begun to choose sides.

Once the father Khan truly passes away, those latent conflicts will inevitably erupt completely.

It seems inevitable that brothers will turn against each other and kill each other.

By then, let alone avenging the Ming army, it will be uncertain whether the Jin dynasty can even retain its current territory.

Huang Taiji stared intently at Ajige, his gaze piercing as if trying to see through his thoughts: "Twelfth brother, in your opinion, if Father Khan passes away, which of us brothers is most suitable for the Khanate?"

This question, like a boulder thrown into a calm lake, instantly shattered the silence in the room.

Who's sitting?

Ajige's heart skipped a beat.

To say he hadn't considered it would be a lie. He was the twelfth son of the Khan, holding some military power in the Bordered White Banner. Although his seniority was not as high as Daišan, Mangultai, or Huang Taiji, he was still more influential than the young Dorgon.

But he knew in his heart that he was impatient, lacked strategy, and was far from being fully capable.

If it really came down to a fight, they would be no match for Daišan, Huang Taiji, or Mangultai.

Since we can't win the battle, we have no choice but to take sides.

If you support someone to rise to power and succeed, you, as a loyal subject who helped him rise to power, will surely have a bright future and may even wield immense power.

However, this move is extremely risky; if you bet on the wrong horse, you will face utter ruin.

In fact, for these princes, the safest course of action was to remain neutral.

Whoever ultimately wins, you will become your allegiance. Although you may not be able to wield great power, you can at least protect your family and property.

But Huang Taiji's question at this moment was clearly forcing him to take a stand, leaving no room for neutrality.

Ajige remained silent for a long time, the flickering shadows of the candlelight on his face.

He recalled Daišan's indecisiveness, which had long since caused him to lose his chance as crown prince due to his affair with his father Khan's principal wife. He also thought of Mangultai's cruelty and bloodthirstiness, his tendency to massacre entire cities at will, which had alienated the people of the country.

Then look at Huang Taiji in front of you.

With meticulous planning and strategic thinking, they demonstrated remarkable resilience and tactical acumen, even though they failed to capture Shenyang.

"Whoever can make the Great Jin Dynasty strong should become the Great Khan."

Azige finally spoke, his voice low but unusually firm.

He raised his head to meet Huang Taiji's gaze and said, word by word, "Compared to the Second Prince and the Fifth Prince, you, Eighth Prince, are more suitable to sit on this Khan's throne."

Since neutrality wouldn't bring him power, he decided to take a gamble.

Fortune and wealth are found in danger; this has always been true.

Huang Taiji's face instantly lit up with joy, and the sharpness in his eyes turned into genuine warmth.

He stepped forward and patted Ajige heavily on the shoulder: "Good! It is my good fortune, Huang Taiji, that my twelfth brother can trust me!"

His voice was filled with barely suppressed excitement:
"With our brothers united, what great things can we not accomplish? The legacy established by our father Khan must not be destroyed in our hands! One day, we will conquer Shenyang, break through Shanhaiguan, and take control of the Central Plains, making the Great Jin Dynasty great again and letting the Jurchen banners fly all over the world! At that time, we brothers will share this vast land!"

Looking at the burning ambition in Huang Taiji's eyes, Ajige's doubts completely vanished, replaced by a surge of passion.

He knelt on one knee, clasped his hands in a fist and said, "Your humble servant is willing to serve you like a dog or a horse!"

"Get up, get up!"

Huang Taiji quickly helped him up. The two smiled at each other, and the solemnity in the tent vanished, leaving only a tacit understanding.

Outside the window, the screams of Li Yongfang's family had long since subsided, and the night in Fushun City remained deep.

But within this room, it was as if a new flame had been ignited.

That was the flame of power, burning with a scorching heat.

The prelude to the struggle for the Khan's throne quietly began at this moment.

……

Time flies.

In the blink of an eye, it was the fifteenth day since Mao Wenlong and his men successfully launched a surprise attack on Hetu Ala.

July 25th, the first year of the Tianqi reign.

It's already autumn.

The sweltering heat of midsummer is gone.

A group of weary soldiers were arriving at the docks of Tianjin.

Mao Wenlong, Zu Dashou and their entourage sailed south along the river and sea. Although three small boats loaded with spoils capsized due to the rapid currents, fortunately no one was injured. The loss was limited to some gold, silver and valuables, which did not affect the overall situation.

They arrived in Tianjin yesterday and are currently resting at the garrison post station, awaiting imperial orders to proceed to the capital.

At almost the same moment they arrived, a piece of news that was enough to shake the court and the public was rushing from Tianjin towards the capital.

Inside the post station, several carefully selected messengers were already fully prepared and ready to depart.

The gold-inlaid lacquered box held by the lead messenger was the very box containing the news of victory.
The gilded scroll pattern on the box gleamed in the sunlight, and three bright red flags were inserted diagonally on the outside of the box. This was the highest level of "800-li urgent delivery" in the Ming Dynasty, which meant that the box contained important military information concerning the fate of the country.

"Remember, at all costs, send it to the capital as quickly as possible and deliver it to His Majesty."

The postmaster personally handed the lacquer box to the leading cavalryman, his tone as solemn as iron.

"Here!"

The leading cavalryman clasped his hands in response, carefully tucked the lacquer box into his bosom, and tightly tied it around his waist with a strip of cloth, as if it were an object more important than his life.

The moment he mounted his horse, he suddenly cracked his whip, and the warhorse, in pain, neighed and charged out of the post station.

Three cavalrymen followed closely behind, their hooves pounding the cobblestones and sending sparks flying as they galloped toward the capital.

The post stations along the way had already received the notification, and fast horses were waiting every twenty li.

Whenever a messenger arrived, they barely had time to catch their breath before transferring to a well-prepared steed and continuing their gallop.

The sound of horses' hooves never ceased day and night, traversing plains and crossing rivers. The counties and prefectures along the way were all terrified when they saw those three red flags.

Since the Battle of Sarhu, Liaodong had not seen a major victory for a long time, and such a victory report had not been seen for many years.

The messenger galloped into Chongwen Gate of Beijing, his hooves clattering loudly on the bluestone slabs, startling pedestrians who scrambled to make way.

He pulled on the reins and shouted as he sped along, his voice cutting through the bustling streets:

"The Ming army has captured Hetu Ala, the pseudo-capital of the Jurchens!"

"Burn their palaces and ancestral temples, destroy 100,000 shi of grain and fodder! Execute dozens of Nurhaci's sons and grandsons, including Tabai, Dodo, and Hauge!"

"We killed three thousand enemy soldiers, captured dozens of chieftains and their families, and seized countless counterfeit gold documents and jade seals!"

With each shout, he spurred his horse forward several feet, the gilded lacquer box at his waist bobbing with the horse's movements, its three red flags fluttering in the wind.

Upon reaching Zhengyang Gate, he roared at the top of his lungs, hurling the most exhilarating words from the victory report onto the street:
"Thanks to His Majesty's divine might! During the siege, the wind and thunder blew with their might, and the false statue of the enemy chieftain Nurhaci was set on fire! This battle has severed the enemy's dragon vein, and the remnant chieftain of Jianzhou fled like a stray dog. The pacification of Liaodong is imminent!"

The market instantly erupted in chaos.

The peddler carrying his load forgot to call out, the storyteller in the teahouse stopped banging his gavel, and even the old woman sunbathing in the corner straightened up.

What began as scattered chatter quickly escalated into a cacophony of voices:
"They've breached Hetu Ala? Isn't that the Jurchens' stronghold?"

"My God! They killed Nurhaci's descendants? Weren't the Jurchens supposed to be powerful? I think they're nothing special."

A scholar in a long gown, his face flushed with excitement, waved his folding fan and shouted to those around him, “Your Majesty is wise! Since Your Majesty ascended the throne, first Liu Xingzuo, the Earl of Weilu, rebelled, and now the Jurchen stronghold has been destroyed. This is the will of Heaven to destroy those barbarians!”

Immediately, someone chimed in, "That's right! Before, Liaodong suffered repeated defeats, but after His Majesty ascended the throne, victory after victory has been achieved! Our Emperor is truly a blessed man, a born savior and wise ruler!"

Cheers and exclamations rose and fell, and some people even set off firecrackers. The crackling sounds, mixed with the shouts of the messengers, made the festive atmosphere throughout Beijing even more intense.

The fast horse galloped through the chessboard street, heading straight for the imperial city.

Upon reaching the Meridian Gate, the messenger abruptly reined in his horse, nearly staggering as he jumped off due to the force of the impact.

He didn't even bother to wipe his sweat. He held the gold-inlaid lacquer box tightly in his hands, ran to the Jinshui Bridge in two quick steps, and knelt down in front of the palace gate.

Upon seeing the victory report with three red flags flying, the Imperial Guards guarding the gate dared not delay and immediately went inside to report it.

Before long, a eunuch from the Directorate of Ceremonial Affairs hurried out and announced loudly, "Enter the Qianqing Gate to report the victory!"

The messenger crawled across the Huangji Gate Square, around the Zhongji Hall, and finally stopped outside the Qianqing Gate.

He raised the lacquer box high above his head, then slammed his forehead heavily against the gold brick, his voice trembling with excitement:
"A messenger from Tianjin Garrison respectfully presents a report of a great victory in Liaodong! Generals Mao Wenlong, Zu Dashou, Zhao Shuaijiao, and Huang Degong launched a surprise attack on Hetu Ala and achieved a resounding victory! We respectfully request Your Majesty's perusal!"

Almost at the same time the messenger knelt before the Qianqing Gate, a series of hurried footsteps came from inside the gate.

The Grand Eunuch Wei Chao, the Secretary of the Directorate of Ceremonial, Wei Zhongxian, the Secretary of the Imperial Secretariat, and Wang Tiqian appeared at the door almost simultaneously, clearly having received the news and rushed over.

Wei Chao, quick-witted and agile, snatched the gold-inlaid lacquered box from the messenger's hands. Its heavy weight startled him.

He didn't even have time to exchange pleasantries with the other two before turning and running towards the Qianqing Palace, shouting in rapid succession, "Your Majesty! A great victory in Liaodong! A great victory in Liaodong!"

Wei Zhongxian and Wang Tiqian exchanged a glance, cursing Wei Chao, that old fox, for stealing the credit, but they dared not delay and followed closely behind into the palace, loudly echoing, "Great victory in Liaodong! Your Majesty, General Mao and his men have won a great victory!"

The three shouts pierced the silence of the Qianqing Palace, like a thunderclap rolling into the East Warm Pavilion.

At this moment, the air inside the East Warm Pavilion was filled with the fragrance of sandalwood. Zhu Youxiao was engrossed in the mountain of memorials, his vermilion brush marking the memorials.

In recent days, debates surrounding the new policies have been raging in the court, with many officials obstructing the reforms on the grounds that "border troubles have not yet been quelled," which has given him quite a headache.

"Great victory in Liaodong!"

Upon hearing these four words, Zhu Youxiao's vermilion brush paused abruptly. He looked up abruptly, his eyes flashing with an astonishing light, and the fatigue from reviewing the memorials vanished instantly.

"Quickly! Bring us the good news!"

Wei Chao, already panting heavily, knelt before the imperial desk, holding a lacquered box high with both hands: "This servant congratulates Your Majesty! Generals Mao Wenlong and Zu Dashou have achieved a great victory in their surprise attack on Hetu Ala!"

Zhu Youxiao took the lacquer box and, with trembling fingers, unlocked the gold lock on it.

When he saw the words "burned their palaces," "executed the rebel chieftain's descendants," and "slain three thousand in battle," his tense shoulders slowly relaxed, and the corners of his mouth involuntarily turned up.

The long-standing threat to Liaodong has finally seen a substantial turnaround!

Hetu Ala was the foundation of the Jurchens, and its destruction was tantamount to cutting off Nurhaci's arm.

more importantly……

With this great victory, shouldn't those voices in the court, openly and covertly, that are obstructing the new policies have quieted down?
Previously, some people said, "The border situation is urgent, and it is not advisable to act rashly." Now that we have achieved a great victory, we can take advantage of this momentum to promote reforms.
Redundant border town officials were dismissed, the corrupt military pay system was rectified, taxes on salt and iron in Jiangnan were recovered, and capable generals like Mao Wenlong, Zu Dashou, Zhao Shuaijiao, and Huang Degong were promoted...

Who would dare to openly oppose it?
now.

This is the time for him, the Emperor of the Ming Dynasty, to truly demonstrate his abilities!
……

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(End of this chapter)