Su Yan had just returned from the market to his temporary residence and hadn’t even had a chance to eat when Huo Dun arrived, requesting an audience.
Inside the hall, Huo Dun stepped forward, and with a grand gesture, dropped to his knees in a deep bow. Su Yan was startled and sidestepped, avoiding the formal courtesy. “Don’t do that! Speak your mind, no need for dramatic gestures.”
Huo Dun refused to rise and pleaded, “Yan Siqing is innocent of any assassination attempt on the prince of Oirat. Please, Lord Su, see the truth and release him!”
Ever since that group of Oirat men had escorted Aletan away from Qingshui Camp, Yan Chengxue had been held in confinement. He wasn’t mistreated—he was given food, clothing, and even extra lamps to read by. Su Yan had also written a detailed memorial about the incident and sent it on a six-hundred-mile urgent delivery to the capital.
By now, it should have reached the emperor’s desk, and they were just waiting for his verdict.
Until an imperial decree arrived, Yan Chengxue would remain in confinement.
Huo Dun insisted, “I know this is a serious matter that must reach the emperor’s ears, but since you are His Majesty’s inspector, I implore you to see the truth and save Old Yan’s life. He truly isn’t the assassin.”
Su Yan rubbed his chin and eyed Huo Dun. “I’ve been wondering—what exactly is your relationship with Yan Chengxue? What right do you have to plead for him? Between you two, who is really the mastermind and who is the accomplice? Based on what I see, he’s the one calling the shots. So… was he the main culprit?”
“—I’m the main culprit!” Huo Dun blurted out, then immediately realized that didn’t sound right and corrected himself, “No, wait, how did Lord Su twist me into this mess? This matter has nothing to do with either of us, really! Old Yan truly did suspect that Aletan was a Northern Desert spy who had infiltrated Qingshui Camp with ill intent, so he wanted to eliminate him. Granted, that idea was rash and premature, but the intention was for the sake of border security. And besides, it was never carried out—Aletan was assassinated before anything happened.
“I believe the shaman that Guard Jinghong encountered is extremely suspicious. Most likely, he stole the flying dart from me and used it to assassinate Aletan, then killed one of my personal guards to frame me. That black-robed Grand Shaman is a shaman of the Oirat tribe, and this case might even involve their internal politics. It really has nothing to do with either of us, Lord Su!”
Su Yan thought that while Huo Dun might be henpecked, his thinking was still quite clear—almost exactly matching his own deductions. But he kept a stern face and said, “Even if you two weren’t the ones who ordered the assassination, the fact remains that you engaged in coercive dealings and plotted against these Oirat people. If I hadn’t arrived in time, Aletan would have been trapped in the camp by you. Even if he didn’t die, he would’ve been skinned alive. Am I wrong?”
Huo Dun looked ashamed and had no choice but to bow his head and confess, “It was out of momentary greed that I tried to forcibly purchase horses. When that failed, I developed the wicked thought of kidnapping him for ransom. I personally instigated that fight—it had nothing to do with Old Yan.”
Su Yan gave a faint cold laugh. “During his term in office, Yan Siting neglected his duties, stayed in Qingshui Camp long-term, overstepped boundaries, and trained troops without authorization—those are all your doing too? Had nothing to do with him? What, did you shackle him to your side with chains?”
Huo Dun had no words to respond.
Su Yan said sternly, “Huo Dun! Qingshui Camp is a frontier fortress and a key national defense point for Great Ming—it’s not your and Yan Chengxue’s personal territory! Have you both been local bullies for so long that you’ve forgotten the laws of Great Ming and the authority of the imperial court? Don’t bother pleading. This matter will be handled according to the law. I’ll report it truthfully, and the court will decide.”
Huo Dun’s broad, battle-worn shoulders, usually strong from years of leading troops, seemed to collapse. Hands pressing to the ground, his eyes reddened as he choked out, “Old Yan… yes, he’s extreme. But you can’t blame him entirely. He hates the Northern Barbarians—not just because the steppe tribes have been longtime enemies of the Central Plains, even if forced by circumstances to make peace—it never lasts… but because beyond the Great Wall, in the Hetao region, lies the land of his nightmares…
“We’ve been friends since childhood, known each other for nineteen years. I watched him fall into h*ll with my own eyes. His parents were trampled to death by Northern Desert raiders, his siblings all slaughtered. At thirteen, he hid among corpses for days before escaping the battlefield ruins… When he collapsed into my arms, he was covered in wounds, barely human! Who can say for sure whether the ones who massacred that whole town back then were the Tatars, the Oirats, the Wangliu or the Woye? They all wear similar clothes, speak similar guttural tongues, and share the same bloodline. For a hundred years, they’ve fought and reunited countless times—no matter how fiercely they kill each other, it’s just beasts fighting among themselves!”
“Now that the Tatars are at odds with Great Ming, does that mean the Oirats harbor goodwill toward us? Of course not! These prairie tribes are born wolves—today they’ll wag their tails for meat, and tomorrow they’ll bite your hand for the same reason! Guarding against them, using them, even striking first—that’s not wrong! Old Yan was just too hasty, too ruthless—but does that mean his head should be offered up for the law?!”
Huo Dun’s bottled-up frustration erupted like a volcano, his voice rising to a near-roar.
Su Yan was silent for a moment, then took two steps forward and clapped him on the shoulder armor. “That’s why you’ll only ever be a frontier commander, not a marshal, and certainly never someone who stands in a sovereign’s position to judge matters. Because you lack strategic vision—at most, you know tactics.”
“When it comes to diplomacy, whether peace or conflict, it’s a grand strategic art. There’s a saying you and Yan Chengxue likely haven’t heard: ‘There are no eternal enemies, only eternal interests.’ It might be sneered at when applied to individuals, but for a nation, stability, development, and the well-being of the people must come first.”
“The Oirats may have once fought Great Ming, but times have changed. Right now, the Tatars are the ones raiding our borders, pillaging and burning. That means we must unite all possible allies, bring the Tatars to their knees, and weaken them thoroughly. As for whether the Oirats will one day become the next threat—no one can say for sure. But if that day truly comes, and I, Su Yan, am still in court, I’ll bring them to their knees too!”
“On this point, His Majesty sees it more clearly than anyone. Now he intends to confer a royal title upon the leader of the Oirats, to support their rise. In a few years, once the Oirats grow strong and the Tatars weaken, he might bestow a title upon the Tatar leader—or another tribal chief altogether—as a way to balance the powers of the northern steppes.
“The tides of the world rise and fall, alliances form and break—what eternal relationships are there? This is not fickleness, nor indecision, but the wisdom of a sovereign.”
Huo Dun was stunned, a bit dazed, and murmured, “Why not just wipe them all out, like Emperor Chengzu did with Beicheng?”
Su Yan chuckled. “Wei and Huo sealed their victories at Wolf’s Lair; Dou and Geng carved their triumphs into Yanzhi; the Great Tang once crushed the Eastern Turks and captured the Khagan alive. And yet? Did the steppe tribes vanish from the earth? They cannot be fully exterminated. A people is like a spark—hidden in the coals during the frost, bursting into wildfire when the wind rises.”
“As for Yan Chengxue, I personally sympathize with his plight. But right and wrong must still be judged separately. He cannot indiscriminately take revenge on innocent members of the same ethnic group—or even those of a different one—just because his family was slaughtered by marauders.”
“If the times push our nation to war, and every citizen has no choice but to fight for their country, then no matter how innocent the enemy, we must strike. But we haven’t reached that point. I will not allow you to disrupt His Majesty’s carefully laid strategy out of personal resentment, just to get your revenge and feel momentarily satisfied—at the cost of national interests. If you do, then no matter how unwilling I am, I will still hang both your heads at the camp gates!”
Huo Dun knelt back onto the ground and remained silent for a long time.
Finally, he kowtowed deeply and pleaded, “Please grant me permission to visit Yan Siting in confinement and speak with him. I will do my best to persuade him.”
Su Yan nodded. “Go. Affection is a part of human nature—I can’t forbid it, nor do I wish to.”
Huo Dun saluted and took his leave.
Behind Su Yan stood Jinghong Zhui, sword in arms, his face stern and cold. It seemed as though he had listened to every word intently, yet at the same time, his spirit drifted far away.
Su Yan turned and saw him looking like a door guardian statue, and couldn’t help but scoff lightly: “Did I say something wrong just now? I hope Hero Jinghong will not hesitate to correct me.”
“Hmm? Hmm.” Jing Hongzhui blinked and replied, “My lord, are you thirsty? Would you like some chrysanthemum tea first, then dinner?”
—
On August 22nd, five thousand troops of the Embroidered Uniform Guard led by Commander Long Quan of the Left Guard of Tengxiang arrived swiftly in Lingzhou.
Long Quan received an imperial edict via carrier pigeon while en route, informing him that Censorate Official Su had already been located and was presently in Lingzhou. The emperor commanded them to proceed directly to Lingzhou and await Su Yan’s orders. As for the necessary provisions, the emperor had personally ordered the Ministry of Revenue to allocate them.
In a secret decree to Su Yan, the emperor wrote:
“The beginning of all things is difficult. As Qinghe takes over local governance, bold reforms will inevitably offend the local gentry and disrupt existing networks of vested interests. Since I have appointed you as the sword in my hand, I will not leave you to cut through thorns alone. These five thousand Embroidered Uniform Guard are elite troops, half of whom followed me on my northern campaign over a decade ago and are battle-hardened warriors. I lend them to you not only to bolster your authority and ensure your safety but also to allow you to break through obstacles with force when necessary, achieving twice the result with half the effort.”
At the end, the emperor added:
“The autumn moon over the cold river—seeing it is like seeing you. The northern border is growing colder; take care of yourself and do not stand at the eye of the storm.”
Su Yan read the secret decree multiple times, even appreciating the tiny ink mark where the brush had accidentally touched the paper, treating it like a work of art. In the end, he was deeply moved. The emperor’s trust and favor toward him were unparalleled. While a wise ruler must trust those he employs, the extent of this trust—allowing Su Yan to command even the emperor’s personal guards and veteran soldiers—was an honor beyond measure. How could he possibly repay such faith? Only by dedicating himself fully to the task and restoring order and prosperity to this land as soon as possible.
He spent an entire day writing a memorial to the emperor, spanning over a dozen pages. In it, he meticulously analyzed the many causes behind the decline of Shaanxi’s horse administration, pointing out official negligence, the unchecked power of local elites, and profiteering by border troops. He concluded with eight reform proposals.
—
Forbidden City, Fengtian Hall.
The emperor did not hold court in the usual grand audience today but opted for a smaller council inside the hall. Ministers from the Six Ministries stood in two rows along the hall’s red-carpeted steps. Emperor Jinglong sat upon the dragon throne, with Crown Prince Zhu Helin seated to his lower left, accompanying the discussion.
A eunuch with a clear, sonorous voice was reading aloud the memorial sent from Shaanxi by Su Yan:
“First, carefully select officials for the state institutions, dismiss the incompetent, and recommend the capable.”
Propose the dismissal of 28 unqualified officials, led by Minister Li Rong. Depending on the severity of their misconduct, some should be recalled to the capital for reassignment, while others should be stripped of their positions and allowed to retire with honorary titles.
Recommend promoting 12 middle- and lower-ranking officials with proven ability and integrity to key leadership positions.
Suggest transferring Yuan Yan, the experienced minister to replace Yan Chengxue as the minister of the Shaanxi branch.
Request the Ministry of Personnel to send 16 additional officials to fill vacancies in the Imperial Stables, Tea and Horse Bureau, and Salt Tax Bureau.
Advocate for increased salaries for temple officials, ensuring they are treated with proper respect by other government offices.
Propose an annual performance review system for temple officials, personally overseen by an imperial inspector, preventing interference from local governors and circuit officials, setting a lasting precedent.
With these reforms, nearly all high-ranking officials involved in Shaanxi’s horse administration would be replaced.
Su Yan had previously promised to improve the salaries of temple officials, and he kept his word. However, those who would now enjoy the benefits were not the old officials but new appointees and low-ranking clerks.
A debate erupted between the Left and Right Vice Ministers of Personnel. One argued that such sweeping changes would decisively root out corruption and allow for a fresh start. The other worried that an overhaul of this scale might destabilize lower-tier officials and cause unrest.
From the dragon throne, the emperor spoke calmly: “If a corrupt official’s heart wavers, what use is it? Approved.”
—
Lingzhou, Shaanxi.
Su Yan’s carriage was en route to Pingliang Prefecture, flanked by hundreds of fully armed Embroidered Uniform Guard, projecting the immense authority of an imperial envoy.
A group of over a dozen dismissed officials knelt in the road, blocking the way. They wept and pleaded for leniency, pressing their foreheads to the ground before his carriage.
Su Yan lifted the curtain, leaned out, and waved to them kindly. “Don’t cling to your positions—just leave. If an official does not serve the people, he might as well go home and grow sweet potatoes.”
“In fact, growing sweet potatoes is a very promising career. The same goes for corn—both were introduced from the Americas by merchants from Sulu. If these crops are properly cultivated, our great Ming dynasty will never fall to famine. You bear a heavy responsibility; it’s far more meaningful than lounging in an office drinking tea. Go on, go on.”
“My lord, be careful of an ambush,” Jinghong Zhui warned, grasping Su Yan’s shoulder and pulling his head back into the carriage, holding him protectively against his own shoulder.
Su Yan had already survived two assassination attempts—one where an assassin infiltrated his inn but was disarmed by Jinghong Zhui, and another where the attacker was caught before getting close. Neither attempt had succeeded.
Instead, Su Yan traced the plots back to their instigators and, wielding the imperial sword of authority, had their heads lopped off.
The severed heads of the conspirators were preserved in lime and displayed in every city of Shaanxi province. After they made their rounds, the assassination attempts ceased entirely.
However, Jinghong Zhui remained ever vigilant, fearing that even a single strand of his lord’s hair might be caught by the wind. Like a hunting dog with ears pricked, he maintained constant alertness.
But this time, the problem wasn’t the dismissed officials—after some tearful complaining, they eventually resigned themselves to their fate and went home to grow sweet potatoes.
The real issue was Pingliang County King—Zhu Yougou.
Yes, the same Zhu Yougou who nearly executed someone for being called “Dog King” as a nickname.
