Chapter 67 Confrontation

However, the southern-campaign nobility had always been stationed outside the capital, lacking a channel for upward mobility. Nor was this a good thing, as it easily fostered regional separatist forces.

Border generals must have a channel for upward mobility. The rebellion of An Lushan in the Tang Dynasty was a clear testament to this.

The Emperor was more than happy to see the Zheng family enter the Privy Council—it would be a headache for him if the Zheng family refused to enter the Privy Council and only wanted to confine themselves to their small domain in the South China Sea.

Yet, there was a question of balance here.

Both the palm and the back of the hand are made of flesh.

How should this cake be divided?

Merely thinking about it for a moment made one's forehead ache.

Political arrangements, the scheming of human hearts, and the trade-offs and hedging of interests truly consumed a vast, vast number of brain cells.

The Emperor had no desire to tax his brain with this.

Just at this moment, Zhao Fu suddenly announced, "Your Majesty, the Privy Councilor, the Duke of Zhenguo, requests an audience."

A trace of an inexplicable smile curled the corner of the Emperor's mouth. Zhao Fu felt a sudden jolt in his heart, knowing that the Emperor was displeased.

"He comes remarkably fast," the Emperor muttered to himself.

Zheng Bangcheng had requested an audience only a short while ago, yet the Duke of Zhenguo, Niu Xiaoqing, had already arrived. This indicated that the Duke had informants within the palace and someone had tipped him off in advance.

The Emperor knew this was human nature.

Yet he found it thoroughly grating.

"Grant audience."

A moment later, a thin, frail old man with completely white hair entered, bowed, and said, "Your humble servant, Privy Councilor Niu Xiaoqing, pays respects to Your Majesty."

"What brings you here?"

"Your servant has come to report on the subsequent affairs following the great victory at Bancheng. The Western barbarians have sent emissaries to ransom the captured generals, and the Marquis of Wuning dared not make a unilateral decision, so he reported it up—"

"Enough," the Emperor said indifferently. "A formal memorial submitted in writing will suffice."

This was the Emperor's primary method for handling state affairs.

For the Emperor, he only needed to read the memorials to understand seven or eight tenths of most matters. If he were to grant individual audiences to every official, it would simply be too much of a waste of time.

"Is there anything else?"

Niu Xiaoqing raised his head, acting as though he had just noticed Zheng Bangcheng's presence here, and said with feigned surprise, "Ah, so Nephew Zheng is here as well. There is a matter regarding a memorial submitted by Nephew Zheng upon which this old minister cannot make up his mind; I humbly request Your Majesty's sagely judgment."

Hearing the word "nephew," Zheng Bangcheng felt a secret wave of nausea.

This old fox was presuming upon his seniority, yet there was nothing to be done about it.

He could only let out a cold snort.

He dared not act presumptuously before the imperial presence.

The Emperor said indifferently, "It must be about the matters of the Xian'an Palace School."

"Precisely. For decades, the Xian'an Palace School has had its own established methods and rules. Where is the need for such drastic changes?" Niu Xiaoqing stated. "This old minister knows that Nephew Zheng has just been transferred out from by Your Majesty's side, and his mind is eager. Being young, this is understandable. However, this minister feels that Nephew Zheng still lacks seasoning. In my view, why not send Nephew Zheng to the South China Sea to gain some practical experience? It will not be too late for him to shoulder major responsibilities in the future."

Niu Xiaoqing knew very well what he was saying.

He was handing the Emperor a polite rebuff, intending to kick Zheng Bangcheng right out of the Privy Council.

He knew this was not showing face to the Emperor.

Yet he had no other choice.

Following the death of the Duke of Ningguo, he had become the head of the founding nobility. To firmly secure this position and shift the premier status among the founding nobility from the Duke of Ningguo's estate to the Duke of Zhenguo's estate, he had to take action.

What kind of action?

Naturally, to secure interests for the founding nobility and to avenge the Duke of Ningguo.

Zheng Bangcheng was acting like a newly appointed official starting his first fires, completely unaware that the Duke of Zhenguo was also a newly appointed official.

He could not afford to back down.

Nevertheless, Niu Xiaoqing was as cunning as an old fox.

He maintained a very precise sense of proportion.

The reason the Duke of Ningguo had died was because he had committed a cardinal taboo—that was loyalty.

The very reason the founding nobility held their current position was because of loyalty. Once loyalty was called into question, death was certain.

Apart from that, however, there were actually very few charges that could bring a Duke to a dead end.

Moreover, this was also a test.

A test of the Emperor's true feelings toward the founding nobility.

If the Emperor harbored intentions of purging the founding nobility, he, Niu Xiaoqing, would pack up without a second word, go home, wash his hands of it, and go to sleep. He would relinquish all authority, asking only to preserve the lives of his family members.

Yet if the Emperor had no such intentions, how did the Emperor define the founding nobility? Was the death of the Duke of Ningguo merely the Emperor's displeasure at the Duke backing the wrong faction, or was it dissatisfaction with the entire body of founding nobility?

From this single judgment, he would perceive the subtle clues and adjust his response accordingly.

The Emperor sighed inwardly.

Feeling his temples throb slightly, he thought to himself, "I am growing old."

Which person in the imperial court was not an old fox? Every single person, in uttering a single word or doing a single deed, had seventeen or eighteen underlying motives. Without riddling one's own heart with dozens of transparent holes, one was simply not qualified to survive three episodes in the imperial court.

The founding nobility were behemoths that naturally required placating. Nor could the southern-campaign nobility be left without a way forward.

This art of balancing was particularly draining to the mind and spirit.

"Zheng Bangcheng, what do you have to say?" The Emperor deflected with a gentle, Tai Chi-like move.

"Your Majesty." In Zheng Bangcheng's mind flashed the words He Chong'an had made him memorize beforehand, along with He Chong'an's earnest instructions: "Remember. Every single word of this is true, and every single word is for the country and the people. Uncle Zheng, you need only speak with righteous indignation. Whoever disagrees is a traitor to the country."

"Your servant has been by Your Majesty's side for over a dozen years, and Your Majesty knows me well. Your servant knows his own dullness and has always been honest with others, never daring to utter a single presumptuous word."

"Your servant will speak of nothing else, but simply of the imperial bodyguards over the past decade or more. In my view, they fall far short of qualification. Whether in civil or martial capacities, they are inferior to those in the Nanyang region, and even to certain local military officers. Furthermore, take Pei Zhixiao for instance—a dignified deputy commander of the Xiaoqiu Regiment, he actually died at the hands of petty scoundrels. What kind of place is the Xiaoqiu Regiment? It is the gathering place of the empire's elite! Yet now it has come to this state. Your servant feels deeply anxious for Your Majesty, and anxious for the court."

"Though the realm is currently at peace, to forget warfare is to court peril. And the most crucial element in preparing for war is obtaining the right men—especially military talents. The Xian'an Palace School is precisely the most vital outlet for the empire's nobility. Those selected today must be envisioned as the pillars of the nation decades from now. Yet can the Xian'an Palace School of today bear such a heavy responsibility?"

As Zheng Bangcheng spoke, his emotions swelled. Feeling as though he were possessed by the loyal ministers and brave generals of antiquity, he glared fiercely at Niu Xiaoqing and demanded in a harsh voice, "Duke of Zhenguo, speak for yourself! Am I right or not?"

"This minister believes—" The Duke of Zhenguo was still trying to think of a rebuttal.

Zheng Bangcheng interrupted in a stern voice, "The Duke of Zhenguo need only answer this: can the men coming out of the Xian'an Palace School today compare to those of twenty years ago?"

The Duke of Zhenguo was left speechless.

Nor could he find a way to answer.

Twenty years ago, the Emperor was full of vibrant energy and heroic spirit, wishing to achieve great things in the realm. The southern campaign had not yet been decided, and a vast number of noble youths participated in it, striving for a chance to stand out. In such an atmosphere, many pulled strings and sought connections, but that did not mean they lacked genuine ability—after all, they were preparing to go onto the battlefield; who would fool around when their own life was on the line?

Yet now, the Emperor adhered to convention and followed the old ways.

The court ministers had not been replaced for over a decade.

Ministers were practically only replaced upon death, as everyone single-mindedly sought stability. Promotions relied purely on accumulating seniority.

As for military conflicts—

In remote places like the Western Sea, there might occasionally be petty bandits or rebellious local chieftains, but major wars had ceased to exist.

Under such circumstances, one could either call it an era of peace and prosperity, or an era of pampered officials and degenerate warriors.

Once the overall ethos changed, many things changed with it.

How could the younger generation of nobility today possibly compare to those of back then?

Moreover, even back then, very few among the nobility possessed real capability. Otherwise, the Emperor would not have set up a separate stove and raised the southern-campaign nobility from scratch.