Chapter 121: The Appointment of the General

Chapter 121: Appointing a General

Ma Shun returned home and locked himself in his study, lost in deep contemplation. After a long while, he suddenly shuddered and muttered, "No. It is absolutely impossible for Toghon to have achieved this much."

Ma Shun knew the Oirat Mongols well. The reason he held this judgment was simple: the Oirats were few in number. Not only the Oirats, but the Mongols as a whole were not numerous. The entire Mongol nation was comparable to a single prefecture in the Central Plains. In contrast, the Jinyiwei—the Embroidered Uniform Guard—along with the Eastern Depot, boasted tens of thousands of personnel across the empire. Given this, the deep-cover agents planted among the Oirats were all Mongols themselves, with impeccable backgrounds and histories.

Furthermore, the Mongol power structure had never been as rigid as that of the Central Plains; it was as porous as a sieve. Infiltrating it was far too easy. Such precise screening was simply beyond the capability of the Mongols. Intelligence warfare was never the romanticized duel of wits between two geniuses often depicted in plays; it was built upon the consolidation of massive amounts of information. The Jinyiwei had tens of thousands of full-time agents, including many clerks dedicated to analysis and synthesis. How many Mongols could even read? And even if some were literate, would they be assigned to such analytical tasks?

Ma Shun might not have understood every detail, but having spent his entire life in the Jinyiwei, he possessed an intuitive grasp of the trade. Though Emperor Zhu Qizhen often complained about the intelligence capabilities of the Jinyiwei and the Eastern Depot, while other nations might possess similar networks, the Oirats certainly did not. This was the fundamental difference in national strength.

If the agents lost had been those involved in previous operations, Ma Shun would have accepted it. But agents who had absolutely no connection to that specific line of duty had also gone missing. This, Ma Shun could not fathom. He had long suspected an internal leak. After all, many things that might seem difficult for outsiders to obtain were easily accessible within the Jinyiwei—and by extension, the Eastern Depot. The two organizations were distinct in name but closely linked in practice, with many members of the Eastern Depot having been transferred from the Jinyiwei.

Once his suspicions were aroused, Ma Shun had scoured the Jinyiwei. He did find eyes and ears belonging to various grandees—the Empress Dowager, the Duke of Ying, the Duke of Cheng, and even members of the Cabinet. However, Ma Shun did not suspect them. These high-ranking officials were concerned with the court's stability and feared the Jinyiwei's influence in the capital; they knew the stakes and understood the limits of their meddling. If they had truly defected to the Oirats, the invaders would have crossed the Great Wall long ago.

However, among those he suspected, over a dozen members of the Eastern Depot stood out for their erratic behavior. He had listed them as suspects, though he hesitated for a long time before reporting them to Zhu Qizhen. Ma Shun knew this would likely be seen as an attack on Jin Ying, the head of the Eastern Depot. But having climbed his way up from the bottom—having once been a scout in the frontier, gathering intelligence in the grasslands—he knew exactly what the men on the ground hated most. He could not swallow this bitterness.

Just as Ma Shun prepared to seek an audience with the Emperor once more, he heard a commotion outside; an imperial decree had arrived. Ma Shun immediately threw open the main gate and knelt in the courtyard. A eunuch read the decree, which commended Ma Shun for his service in the killing of Adai Khan, bestowing upon him gold, a precious blade, and honors for his family. Yet, Ma Shun felt no joy. He understood this was the Emperor’s signal: the matter was settled. Regardless of his own thoughts, he could not reopen it unless he possessed ironclad proof. And in such matters, how could there ever be ironclad proof?

Unwilling to give up, Ma Shun thought long and hard before summoning a trusted subordinate. He shared the details and the list of names, commanding, "Keep a close watch on these people. Do not let the Eastern Depot discover you."

"Yes," the man replied. He looked utterly unremarkable, but his eyes were sharp. "Commander, what if we find nothing?"

Ma Shun knew that often, things could not be solved. Many miscarriages of justice in the Jinyiwei or the Ministry of Justice were forced outcomes. If the Eastern Depot was truly sabotaging the Jinyiwei, they would have already scrubbed their tracks clean. "If you cannot find anything, then keep watching. Keep watching indefinitely."

"For how long?" the man asked.

Ma Shun said, word by word, "Until I am no longer the Commander. Some things must have an outcome." He slammed his fist down onto the list. Among the dozen names, one stood out with chilling clarity: Xi Ning.

"Understood," the man bowed sharply.

While Ma Shun resolved to unearth the truth, Zhu Qizhen had long since forgotten the matter. He was currently meeting with Meng Ying at Tuan City.

Meng Ying, dressed in his Marquis's ceremonial robes, walked across the long bridge. Led by eunuchs and imperial guards, with the cool breeze blowing off the lake on both sides, Meng Ying felt as if he were in another lifetime. During the reign of the Taizong Emperor, he had visited often, but since the rebellion of the Prince of Han, he had been cast into exile—first to Yunnan, then to Nanjing—only returning to Beijing in the tenth year of the Xuande reign. Even then, he had kept a low profile, rarely attending court except on major holidays. The inner palace, once a place he frequented like his own home, had become a chasm he could not cross.

Finding himself inside again, Meng Ying felt an indescribable emotion. Suddenly, a guard approached. It was none other than Meng Yuan, now a guard of the Qianqing Palace. In the palace, there were no uncles or nephews, only guards and marquises. Meng Yuan bowed, saying, "I pay my respects to the Marquis. His Majesty noticed the sky changing and asked if you had arrived."

Meng Ying looked up to see a dark line of clouds roiling on the horizon, threatening to sweep in. "Very well, let us move quickly."

Soon, Meng Ying arrived at the Chengguang Palace. Tuan City was part of the original Yuan Dynasty palace complex, renovated in the Ming. It was an island connected to the shore by a long bridge, with walls built around its perimeter, giving it the appearance of a fortress. Zhu Qizhen’s choice to meet here carried a subtle implication of military readiness.

When Meng Ying entered the palace, the sky had not yet broken into rain, but the light was dim, and a long row of candles had been lit. Meng Ying bowed, "Your subject, the Marquis of Baoding, Meng Ying, pays respects to Your Majesty."

Zhu Qizhen waved him up. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, the Emperor said, "You are set to head south tomorrow. There are things I wish to tell you in private."

"I am listening to your imperial decree," Meng Ying replied.

Zhu Qizhen said, "I have never doubted that you will prevail in Luchuan. They are but mere clowns. However, the situation has changed: the Oirat Taishi, Toghon, is dead."

Meng Ying immediately caught the sensitivity of the situation. "Your Majesty’s meaning is?"

"I previously expected a quick victory within a year, and I still believe you are capable of it. But with Toghon’s death, the pressure on our northern border will be greatly reduced for several years. My view on the Yunnan situation has shifted. Before, I demanded speed; now, I demand stability."

"You are a pillar of the state, Marquis. You understand that as the Oirats grow in power in the grasslands, a war with them is inevitable. I do not want any chaos in Yunnan when that day comes. Therefore, I want you to settle the Southwest. I do not ask for a century of peace, but I do not want any trouble in Yunnan for the next ten or twenty years."

"I will rely on you to command the northern campaign against the Oirats. You must balance severity with mercy. Punish the rebels without hesitation, but appease the local chieftains who are loyal to the throne."

Meng Ying immediately replied, "I understand. I shall emulate the great Zhuge Liang: I will penetrate deep into the desolate lands, prioritizing the winning of hearts, so that the Southwest may be settled and never rebel again."

Zhu Qizhen nodded. "As long as you can achieve that, what does it matter if it takes three, five, or even ten years?"