Take control of Wei Zhongxian at the start and confiscate 100 million from him!

Chapter 85 A Warfare Method Never Before Imagined

The wind swept from north to south across the mottled edge of Datong Town. Unlike the biting wind of the past, which was only filled with sand and the smell of grass, today's wind carried a faint fragrance of tea.

The dawn at Deshengbao is gray.

The morning mist, thick with rust and chill, clung to every crenellation of the fortress wall and every piece of rammed earth eroded by time, like an old spider web.

Inside the fortress was a military camp, ready for battle at any moment; outside the fortress was a silent, seemingly unchanging grassland that stretched into the distance, swallowed by the horizon.

The Governor-General of Xuanda, Man Gui, stood on this line where gray and yellow met, in the corner tower at the highest point of Desheng Fort.

He wore a gleaming suit of armor, but no helmet. His graying beard fluttered slightly in the cold wind of the frontier. His hands gripped the wall firmly, and his gaze was fixed on the yurts scattered like mushrooms on the distant horizon.

Several trusted generals and lieutenants stood in the shadows behind him. The air was somewhat still, and these men, who had tasted blood on the edge of a knife, had faces full of confusion and unease.

“Commander-in-Chief,” a bearded general finally couldn’t hold back any longer and spoke in a gruff voice, “I still don’t understand. Open the market? Do business with these Tartars who were knocking on our gates yesterday? Our iron pots, salt, cloth… aren’t they all things they’ve been dreaming of? Especially the iron pots, which, when melted, become excellent iron material. Isn’t this just aiding the enemy?”

Another adjutant chimed in, "Yes, Commander-in-Chief, the old rule is to 'use the border wall as a plowshare and swords as pens.' What's the point of talking to them? We're just raising a tiger to cause trouble!"

"Raising a tiger to cause trouble?"

Man Gui didn't turn around; her voice was as calm as a deep well, instantly silencing the commotion behind her.

“You only know that tigers can hurt people, but you don’t know that tigers also choose their masters. A hungry tiger that can’t be fed will bite anyone it sees; but if there is a family that can both unlock its chains to let it hunt and tighten its neck at any time to make it submit, while the other family only knows how to wield a whip… tell me, for whom will this tiger bare its fangs?”

The generals looked at each other, speechless.

Man Gui's thoughts, however, had already drifted back to the Forbidden City.

He remembered how that excessively young emperor analyzed the state of the world with an almost cold calm.

"Commander, the time is almost up." The adjutant's voice interrupted his thoughts.

Man Gui nodded slightly, turned around, and walked steadily down the corner tower.

……

A huge trading area had already been set up in front of the fortress gate.

The scene was so bizarre and shocking.

On one side stood the silent Ming army, rows of soldiers in gleaming armor, standing with blades at their sides, like a silent, iron-cast forest.

On the fortress wall, the cannon covers of the Hongyi cannons had long been removed, and the dark muzzles, like the eyes of a giant beast gazing into the abyss, silently looked down at everything below, coldly defining the bottom line of friendship.

On the other side, in stark contrast to this chilling murderous aura, were mountains of goods.

High walls were built of dark tea bricks, hundreds of black iron pots were stacked on top of each other, snow-white salt bags were piled up into small mountains, and next to them were neatly stacked indigo cotton cloths that could drive any grassland woman crazy.

These ordinary objects, which can be found everywhere in the heart of the Ming Dynasty, have now combined here to form a force so powerful that it is suffocating.

They remained silent, yet they proclaimed the prosperity of the Ming Dynasty more powerfully than any war drums or horns.

On the distant horizon, the Mongol tribesmen and their horses formed a dark mass, yet remained clearly distinct.

The outermost perimeter is home to countless small tribes, their clothes tattered, their horses mostly emaciated, their eyes a mixture of greed, longing, and a deep-seated fear.

They were like hungry wolves on the wasteland, wanting to get closer, yet fearing the hunter's trap.

In the very center, a cavalry team of about two or three hundred people stood out conspicuously.

Everyone rode tall horses and wore relatively fine leather armor. Although they were covered in dust, their fierce and brave spirit stood out like cranes among chickens.
They surrounded a banner, tattered yet still proud—the nine-stripe white banner of Ligdan Khan of the Chahar tribe.

Three quarters past noon.

"Boom-thump-thump-"

The three deep, resonant beats of war drums, like the heartbeat of a giant, echoed across the grassland.

The heavy iron gate of the Victory Castle slowly opened with a loud creak, and the drawbridge descended, kicking up a cloud of dust.

Man Gui appeared atop the gate tower. He didn't recite any complicated documents; instead, with a booming voice powerful enough to overpower the roar of a thousand horses, he solemnly announced:
"By the grace of Heaven, the Emperor decrees: The Desheng Fort Trade Market shall be opened! All friends of the Great Ming Dynasty may trade fairly! Livestock shall be exchanged for goods, and no one shall be cheated, young or old!"

The sound echoed across the vast grassland, each word as heavy as a mountain. The four characters "Friends of the Great Ming" were like an invisible knife, drawing a clear and profound red line between all the tribes.

Who are friends? Who aren't? The answer seems to be right before our eyes.

As the drumbeats subsided, voices rose.

The cavalry, carrying the banner of Ligdan Khan, moved first. The general in charge was named Taodu, a trusted and beloved general of Ligdan Khan.

With the arrogance characteristic of Mongol nobles, he ignored the envious glances around him. With a wave of his hand, a hundred elite Kheshig soldiers behind him drove three hundred well-fed and strong Hetao warhorses into the trading area at a leisurely pace.

The transaction was jointly presided over by Man Gui's deputy general and a seasoned official transferred from the Ministry of Revenue.

The process of inspecting the horses, appraising their value, the crisp sound of the abacus beads turning, and counting the goods was carried out in front of everyone, almost like a deliberate display.

Taodu's face still wore arrogance, but when he saw his men carrying the mountain of supplies onto horses in an endless stream, the arrogance in his eyes was uncontrollably replaced by a look of shock and ecstasy.

Too fast, and too...fair.

He had heard from people in those small tribes that when they traded with the Jurchens, those people were as greedy as hyenas and they had to be subservient to them. But here, the price offered by the Ming Dynasty was so generous that it seemed unreal to him.

Three hundred horses were quickly exchanged for supplies that all the tribes envied!
These supplies are enough to allow Lindan Khan's newly gathered followers to get through the winter safely, and even give him the resources to reward those wavering new vassals!

When the last iron pot was loaded onto the packhorse, Tao Du rode forward and slapped the dark rim of the pot heavily with his large hand.

"clang--!"

A clear, deep metallic clang instantly reverberated throughout the silent trading area.

This sound was more tempting to the Mongols watching from afar than the whispers of the devil.

It represents steaming hot milk tea and cooked meat, it represents the dignity of no longer needing to cook with stones and earthenware pots, it represents warmth, it represents survival, and even... it represents dignity.

The clang was like a boulder thrown into a stagnant pool, instantly stirring up huge waves, and the small tribe that had been watching from afar was finally in complete turmoil.

A moment later, an old man with white hair and beard, supported by two young men, led several emaciated horses and a dozen or so wool-shedding sheep into the trading area.

His face was filled with pleading as he cautiously said to the official in charge of the Ministry of Revenue, "Sir, we are from the Urad tribe. We don't have fine horses like those of Khan Ligdan, we only have these worthless animals. Please, could you at least exchange them for a pot? A small packet of salt would be fine..."

As he spoke, he was about to kneel down.

The official in charge of the Ministry of Revenue subconsciously looked at Man Gui on the city wall.

Man Gui remained expressionless, only nodding slightly.

Upon receiving permission, the official immediately put on a warm smile and personally helped the old man up: "Old man, you mustn't do this! The Governor-General is acting on His Majesty's orders; all who come are guests! Though the cattle and sheep are thin, they represent our goodwill and, more importantly, our trust in our Great Ming. Guards!"

He shouted, "Give the old man a new pot, and also give him half a pound of tea and twenty pounds of salt!"

"Give it away?" The old man was stunned, unable to believe his ears.

When a brand-new, heavy iron pot, half a pound of good tea, and several packets of snow-white salt were actually handed to his wrinkled and scarred hands, he froze.

He repeatedly stroked the smooth, cold inner wall of the iron pot, as if touching a rare treasure that had been lost and found again.

With tears welling up in his eyes, the old man, who had struggled his whole life on the grasslands, having been humiliated and robbed, suddenly hugged the iron pot and let out a suppressed sob.

The next moment, he suddenly turned around and knelt down heavily in front of the tall city gate of Deshengbao, kowtowing loudly!
Among the crowd, several men dressed as waiters with sharp eyes exchanged glances almost imperceptibly, a fleeting smile playing on their lips. The charade was complete.

They immediately dispersed, like drops of ink falling into clear water, scattering the carefully prepared seeds amidst the surging crowd.

"See that? The Urad tribe is following Lindan Khan! The Ming Emperor is giving the Khan face!"

"Indeed, even the impoverished Urad tribe received favors from the Ming Dynasty. That's the magnanimity of the Celestial Empire!"

“I have a relative who escaped from the Later Jin. He said that Huang Taiji always just robbed people when he wanted something. He would trade several wild horses for a broken pot and still have to call them masters. In their eyes, what difference is there between us and two-legged sheep?”

These words, like dandelions scattered by the wind, drifted silently into the ears of every Mongolian.

(End of this chapter)