Chapter 56: Prestige, Dignity, and Respect Are All Earned by Oneself!

When Qi Jiguang lost his tally from the All-Hubei Guildhall, it triggered wave after wave of impeachments. Yet, His Majesty always managed to find a clever solution that felt both refreshing and eye-opening.

You want to hurl insults? You want to impeach? Then go to Jizhou in person and take a look with your own eyes before opening your mouths, instead of spouting empty words.

He ordered the impeaching censors, the Qingliu purists, the Hanlin scholars, and the court officials to travel to Jizhou themselves, endure three months of hardship, gain a deep understanding of the situation, and only then produce concrete evidence to press charges, speaking solely based on facts.

Primarily, the accusations brought forward by the censors were so utterly absurd that even the ten-year-old Emperor was amused to laughter.

The first charge brought against him was that Qi Jiguang slaughtered innocent civilians to inflate his military achievements. This was a completely groundless fabrication. If the Southern Troops commanded by Qi Jiguang had truly slaughtered the innocent for merit, they would have collapsed long ago and would never have lasted until now. Just how many people regarded Qi Jiguang as a thorn in their side, a bone stuck in their throat?

Qi Jiguang’s pacification of the Wokou pirates had offended quite a few people. The eradication of the pirate scourge meant that the situation had stabilized. How were those local gentry supposed to continue annexing land? How were those maritime merchants supposed to fish in troubled waters? And how were those corrupt officials supposed to use military crises as an excuse to demand silver for repairing city walls and coastal defenses, only to line their own pockets?

During the campaigns to pacify the pirates, the Southern Troops frequently achieved victories where they suffered merely a dozen casualties while claiming over a thousand enemy heads—a feat that left onlookers astonished. Such a casualty ratio was simply beyond the comprehension of certain civil officials, leading the censors to conclude that Commander Qi was slaughtering the innocent to fake his merits.

Battle reports might lie, and casualty counts might lie, but the frontlines never lied. The Wokou had once run rampant, their scourge spreading across three provinces. Where were the signs of lingering pirate activity in those three southeastern provinces today?

The aspirations of the common people did not lie. Shrines dedicated to the living could be found everywhere across the southeastern provinces; would the common people commemorate a general who slaughtered the innocent for fake merits?

When innocent lives were slaughtered, the victims were civilians.

If the southern frontier was considered too distant, what about the north?

Qi Jiguang had led his troops into battle amidst layers of contradictions. Take the battle of the first year of Wanli, when Qi Jiguang repelled Dong Huli: relying on the geographical advantages of the Great Wall, the Great Ming suffered casualties of no more than a dozen men, while the Northern marauders lost over two thousand.

The Wokou were roving bandits, but the Northern marauders were formidable enemies. Could such fierce and brilliant combat achievements not prove Qi Jiguang’s valor?

Just how many victories did Qi Jiguang need to win to prove his military prowess?

The second charge leveled against him was the embezzlement of countless sums of wealth. Of all people, Zhang Juzheng was the most qualified to speak on this matter.

Every year during the festivals of Bingjing and Tanjing, the silver Qi Jiguang sent to the All-Hubei Guildhall always consisted of scattered, broken pieces of silver. Whenever he came up short, he would even patch together the amount using salt coupons. If Qi Jiguang had truly embezzled massive fortunes, would he have used such petty, fragmented silver when sending gifts to his patrons behind the scenes?

The Shanxi faction, operating under the guise of repairing the Great Wall, military encampments, and strategic passes, had dipped their sticky fingers into everything, every single one of them growing fat and greasy with corruption, and thus they subconsciously assumed that Qi Jiguang must be just like them.

The third charge was that he fawned upon the powerful and pandered to the influential—and this accusation was undeniably true. Because Qi Jiguang had previously entered the tutelage of Zhang Juzheng to serve under him, he had indeed pandered to the powerful and bent with the wind.

The truly bizarre thing about this whole affair was this: when Qi Jiguang was fawning upon the powerful, not a single person dared to impeach him; yet the moment Qi Jiguang stopped currying favor with the powerful, all these censors leaped out of the woodwork.

How on earth did the Grand Secretariat acquire partial decision-making power?

It was achieved through floating slips. These floating slips contained not only the Secretariat’s analyses of state affairs but also proposed methods of disposal. After considering the opinions of both the Secretariat and the Directorate of Ceremonies, the Emperor would make his final decision.

Often, the Secretariat's proposed course of action became the Emperor’s official decree. This was how the Grand Secretariat had secured a share of decision-making authority. Although it fell short of the absolute power wielded by prime ministers in the early Ming dynasty, it was already capable of casting a formidable shadow over the throne.

Yet this time, the remedial measure had been conceived by the young Emperor himself.

It had nothing to do with Zhang Juzheng’s floating slips. After Qi Jiguang returned his tally, Zhang Juzheng could only analyze Qi Jiguang’s predicament from the perspective of the Great Ming dynasty as a whole; he could not offer a specific solution.

And yet, His Majesty’s solution was remarkably effective.

Zhang Juzheng put away the memorial and spoke, "When the various departments return, tell the court officials that if they still stubbornly insist on impeaching Commander Qi, they will be sent to the Jizhou garrison to undergo three months of hardship, and they may only return to impeach him once they have found actual evidence."

To gather incriminating evidence against a high-ranking frontier general and Left Chief Commander, one had to venture into the territory of the border troops to hunt for proof. Fortunately, Qi Jiguang was not a warlord; he would not do anything drastic to these censors. However, if these censors continued to abandon their consciences and chatter endlessly, the Emperor could issue a decree ordering Jizhou to let Qi Jiguang present his defense.

Back and forth like this, half a year would simply slip away, and as time dragged on, the matter would be quietly dropped without a conclusion. This was the quintessential tactic of weaponizing institutional rigidity to turn major issues into minor ones, and minor issues into nothing at all—a game the civil officials excelled at.

It seemed the young Emperor was also well-versed in this art of stalling.

Bureaucratic bickering? Who didn't know how to play that game?

As for whether the pure-stream censors would actually be willing to go? By all accounts, they certainly would not.

Leaving the capital to take up an official post elsewhere amounted to demotion to the provinces. Once far from the center of power, the seats beneath their very bottoms would be snatched up by others, and wanting to return would be as difficult as ascending to heaven.

Having finished speaking, Zhang Juzheng turned his gaze toward Ge Shouli, his tone turning exceptionally stern. "Chief Censor Ge, I must remind you: the Fengtian Hall and the Wenhua Hall are the sanctuaries of sacred statecraft. The censors of the Censorate are the eyes and ears of the sovereign. Impeachment is a matter of paramount national importance; it exists to curb the habits of spineless sycophancy, to stiffen the backbone of upright integrity, to speak up for scholars of honor, to voice the concerns of loyal ministers, to safeguard the vital interests of the nation, and to advance remonstrances that grate upon the ear."

"For the censors to so deliberately distort the facts and wag their glib tongues—are they treating matters of state and the vital fortunes of the realm as child's play? The Fengtian Hall and the Wenhua Hall are solemn sanctums, and the act of censure is an endeavor of justice, not a tool for groundless accusations, let alone an instrument of factional strife."

"Chief Censor Ge, I am warning you right now: you are the Left Censor-in-Chief, the head of the Censorate. To strictly uphold institutional laws and duties, to clarify your responsibilities, to be loyal to the sovereign, the country, and yourself, and to speak solely on the basis of facts and evidence—these are the absolute minimum requirements for every censor serving within the Censorate!"

"You are the Chief Censor. Must we wait for the return of Hai Gangfeng to the court before anyone cleanses the atmosphere of the Censorate?!"

Zhang Juzheng rarely used such a tone or such severe phrasing to lecture anyone. Ordinarily, whenever Zhang Juzheng was dissatisfied with someone, he would simply employ various means to drive them out. Scolding Ge Shouli this harshly was actually done for Ge Shouli's own good.

If Ge Shouli continued to charge ahead so recklessly in the conflict between the Shanxi faction and the Zhang faction, the one who would ultimately meet a disastrous end was Ge Shouli himself.

"Understood." Ge Shouli, having been scolded without room for retort, could only acknowledge the reprimand. It was not a matter of one or two days that the censors of the Censorate and Offices had behaved miserably. With no good solutions at hand, Ge Shouli could do nothing except endure the dressing down.

Ge Shouli could no longer control the censors; his position as Chief Censor was rapidly turning into a mouthpiece for the Shanxi faction. How could the censors of the Censorate and the supervising secretaries of the Six Ministries possibly hold genuine respect for a Ge Shouli who pandered to the powerful? Who still took his words seriously? With human hearts utterly scattered, how could Ge Shouli possibly lead his team effectively?

Zhang Juzheng tapped the desk and said, "If Hai Rui were still in court, would they dare to ignore the facts and bark like rabid dogs in such a manner?"

"No!" Hearing Zhang Juzheng bring up Hai Rui made Ge Shouli feel even more indescribably wretched. He expelled a foul breath, which passed as his acknowledgment.

A proper reprimand had to strike straight at a man’s vitals if it was ever to shock him back to his senses.

Hai Rui was the ultimate sore spot for Ge Shouli, the leader of the Ming dynasty's official censors. The censors completely ignored the commands of their Chief Censor, instead taking Hai Rui—who was living in idle retirement in Hainan—as their role model, showing not an ounce of respect for Ge Shouli himself.

The reason Zhang Juzheng brought up Hai Rui was simple.

He wanted to remind Ge Shouli that one’s reputation, dignity, and standing had to be earned by oneself. During this round of impeaching Qi Jiguang, even if the Emperor had not devised a countermeasure and Zhang Juzheng had not spoken out righteously, other officials would still have submitted memorials to defend Qi Jiguang, and Qi Jiguang would still have weathered the storm.

This was because Qi Jiguang had just won a major victory, completely annihilating Dong Huli’s forces, whereas the Huyukou pass of the Datong Great Wall had just been effortlessly breached by the Northern marauders.

Qi Jiguang had reputation, substance, dignity, strength, and above all, power and backing—formerly Zhang Juzheng, and now the Emperor himself served as Qi Jiguang’s patron.

Zhang Juzheng had said all there was to say. Good words cannot persuade a ghost hell-bent on suicide; he had exhausted both praise and warnings. As for the path Ge Shouli would walk in the future, it would entirely depend on his own fortune.

The second item on the agenda of the grand council was the dispatch of a team of censors, led by Li Le, to conduct an official inspection of the frontier defenses at Huyukou and other sections of the Great Wall.

Li Le was one of Zhang Juzheng’s men, and the accompanying censors included officials from the Shanxi Circuit of the Censorate, the Ministry of War, and the Ministry of Works, alongside eunuchs dispatched by the Directorate of Ceremonies and representatives of the imperial nobility.

Eunuchs, officials from the Ministries of War and Works, imperial censors, and eunuchs from the Directorate of Ceremonies—this clearly signaled that they meant business. Furthermore, this was the first time since the fortieth year of the Jiajing reign that non-Shanxi faction censors were being sent to Datong and Xuanfu to inspect the borders and review the Great Wall.

"Does anyone have any objections?" Zhang Juzheng held a memorial in his hand.

If no one raised objections, he would endorse it and submit it below the Emperor’s imperial desk for the official seal.

Judging from paper alignments, Minister of War Tan Lun, Minister of Revenue Wang Guoguang, Minister of Personnel Yang Bo, Chief Censor of the Censorate Ge Shouli, and Grand Coordinator of the Capital Garrisons Wang Chonggu were all members of the Shanxi faction.

Grand Secretary Zhang Juzheng of the Great Ming, Minister of Rites Lu Shusheng, and Minister of Punishments Wang Zhigao belonged to the Zhang faction.

If the Shanxi faction opposed it uniformly, Zhang Juzheng’s *Memorial Requesting the Dispatch of Censors to Inspect Xuan-Da and Review the Construction of the Great Wall* would undoubtedly fail to pass the grand council.

However, Supervising Secretary of War Li Le had been recommended by Ge Shouli; Minister of War Tan Lun had parted ways with the Shanxi faction over the appointment of military talents in the capital garrison, choosing a different path from them; and Minister of Revenue Wang Guoguang had openly turned traitor during the previous impeachment of Tan Lun.

Lu Shusheng shared the same teacher as Zhang Juzheng, and Zhang Juzheng had even recommended Lu Shusheng, yet Lu Shusheng had been flirting with the Shanxi faction.

Wang Chonggu pondered for a moment before speaking, "If these censors go to inspect the borders, it will cause unrest among the hearts of the people. If Altan Khan should march south and spark another military crisis, leaving the soldiers without the will to fight or defend, what shall we do?"

Zhang Juzheng looked at Wang Chonggu and asked quite calmly, "Grand Guardian Wang, would you care to listen to what you just said? Would you like to repeat it once more?"

Nurturing bandits to preserve one's own importance was an extremely common game, but Wang Chonggu could not simply blurt out: *We can't investigate everything, because who knows what might be uncovered.*

Wang Chonggu was blocked by those few words and, feeling utterly helpless, turned his gaze toward Yang Bo.

Yang Bo straightened his posture, hesitated for a moment, and said, "Let us bring the capital's assessment law to an early conclusion; my old bones can no longer hold out."

Whatever these censors might uncover during their inspection, it would no longer have anything to do with Yang Bo. The implication of his words was crystal clear: he intended to stay completely out of the affair. He no longer planned to meddle in the Shanxi faction’s business, nor was he capable of managing it anymore.

For Yang Bo, successfully completing the pilot implementation of the assessment law in the capital without suffering total disgrace would already constitute a massive victory.

"Since no one objects, let it be so." Zhang Juzheng endorsed the memorial with his brush and handed it to Zhang Hong, who took it and placed it upon the imperial desk.

Zhu Yijun picked up the Seal of the Wanli Emperor, stamped it squarely upon the memorial, and returned it to Zhang Hong, signaling that it could be officially transmitted down to the Ministry of Personnel.

Zhu Yijun did not hold high hopes for this mission to inspect the borders. Zhang Juzheng’s strike was a direct blow to the heart, but if the Shanxi faction could be overthrown this easily, they would not be the deeply rooted faction that they were.

"Your ministers take their leave." Following the grand council, the gathered officials offered respectful bows and withdrew from the Wenhua Hall.

The sutra-exposing officials, readers-in-waiting, expositors-in-waiting, and masters of ceremonies—the various officials who attended to the Emperor’s studies—filed into the hall one by one.

Zhu Yijun looked at the grave and solemn expression on Zhang Juzheng’s face and asked, "Prime Minister, how many yields do you suppose this border inspection and review of defenses will ultimately bear?"