Chapter Twenty-Three: Security Mechs

To Captain Cao, it seemed that as long as the authorities knew of a place, even somewhere as remote and desolate as Black Dragon King Temple Mountain, it could not be considered safe.

But for Liu Chengzong, going home meant he could eat his fill twice a day and enjoy a brief period of peace. Whether it was truly the right time to seek a stable life was hard to say, but Liu Chengzong felt he needed such days, especially since he was keenly aware that time was running out.

He might not even last until the rebel army under Wang Zuogua was defeated by the imperial forces, and all because of Cao Yao.

Cao Yao had stayed at the Temple of Lord Guan for less than half a month before finding a suitable place to settle. On February seventeenth, Captain Cao transported away five carts loaded with grain and axes, followed by another five carts five days later. After paying his respects at the temple, he bid farewell to Master Liu and the Liu brothers, and the whole party departed.

He even managed to coax away eight men from Liu’s unit.

He took fifty dan of grain, leaving over thirty behind in the cave dwellings that Liu Chengzong had arranged for Cao’s wife, as a precaution.

Judging from the grain that was taken, Liu Chengzong surmised that Cao Yao was pressed for time—the supplies would only last them until April.

In other words, before April arrived, whether Cao Yao chose to rob wealthy households or fight bandits, he would have to lead his men to secure more grain.

No one was idle in those days.

Squad leaders Gao Xian and Tian Shoujing twice escorted Liu Chengyun to the city of Yan'an. On the one hand, they asked Chengyun's father-in-law, Wang Kun—the renowned legal advocate of Yan'an— to help purchase iron materials. On the other, they attempted to sell the calligraphy, paintings, and antiques seized from Bai Yingzi in exchange for silver and grain.

Both tasks proved difficult. The ironworks were located in Yanchang County, southeast of Black Dragon King Temple Mountain, more than a hundred li away. On their second trip, they had to purchase spearheads and arrow shafts on the open market under the name of the Black Dragon Temple Mountain Security Militia—expensive items, and the blacksmiths in Yan'an were unwilling to accept copper coins or silver; all weapons now had to be paid for in grain.

In truth, the labor and material costs for blacksmithing were not high, but in the midst of economic collapse, a daily wage of three or four fen of silver was not enough for a craftsman to buy a decent meal at the soaring prices of grain. At times like this, as long as there was work and a meal at the end of the day, craftsmen would scramble for the opportunity.

Selling the spoils of war was another challenge for Wang Kun. In times of peace, antiques had value; in troubled times, gold was king. There were few buyers for such goods; the only hope was to find merchants heading south, a matter of luck.

Chengyun’s father-in-law, Wang Kun, was himself a legendary figure in Yan'an. Born a scholar, he had his family's land and shops seized by relatives, and having failed to pass the higher exams, he spent ten years in litigation, outlasting three county magistrates and two prefects before finally winning his case.

During that decade, he continually honed his skills in drafting legal documents, and when his own affairs were settled, he set up shop as a legal advocate in Yan'an.

It was a profession unrecognized by the authorities, so such advocates usually maintained an official position on paper.

For instance, during the Zhengde and early Jiajing eras, the legal expert Song Shijie of Xinyang drafted petitions for others under the guise of a yamen clerk.

Officialdom and the law had no place for professional advocates, but the people's need gave rise to a tacit new rule: honorary kinship.

To hire Wang Kun, one had to first recognize him as a godfather or godparent; only then would he submit petitions to the yamen on one's behalf. Even if the officials disapproved, there was little to be done—after all, it was a family matter.

As a result, Wang the advocate had wide connections; in Yan'an, he had a vast network of godsons and goddaughters from all walks of life, rich or poor, high or low. One might say he lived far more comfortably than Scholar Liu.

Thus, no one was better suited than Lord Wang for selling the spoils of war.

As for Liu Chengzong, aside from assisting with military drills and his studies, he devoted himself chiefly to a single task: persuading his father, as commander of the militia, to expand the security force.

The name “Security” had been chosen by Liu Xiangyu, intended to convey the idea of protecting the region and its people.

But with only twenty-four men, Liu Chengzong found it woefully inadequate.

While helping Liu Xiangyu compile a military manual, Liu Chengzong raised the issue.

“We have over a hundred able-bodied men in the village, and many of the women are strong as well. But they know nothing of warfare and are unarmed; in a crisis, panic is inevitable. Twenty-four militiamen and a score of border troops are far from enough. We must train—”

He set down his brush and said to Liu Xiangyu, “Father, you should train all the able-bodied men between twenty and fifty in Xingping Village. Even if they only drill twice a month, at least they’ll be able to defend themselves if trouble comes.”

No one understood better than Liu Chengzong what was to come in Shaanxi. To put it bluntly, in the great upheaval of dynastic change, no matter how great one’s power or how thorough the preparations, it was all just doing what one could; in the end, survival was a matter of fate.

“Even with the militia and your help, it’s not enough,” Liu Xiangyu replied, not looking up from his book. “If trained soldiers are insufficient, how could civilians be of use? What is it you and Chengzu are after?”

He was reading Mao Yuanyi’s “Treatise on Military Preparedness,” a 1621 edition. Liu Chengzong had no idea how his father had acquired such a book—two hundred and forty volumes, divided into sections on military tactics, strategy, formations, logistics, and reconnaissance, encompassing the whole of military thought from ancient times to the present.

It was an excellent book, but so broad and detailed as to serve more as a reference for generals than as a manual for lower officers—not that it was unsuitable, but much of it was simply irrelevant for those at the grassroots.

Liu Xiangyu’s goal was to distill from it a concise manual suitable for quick training and command by junior officers, to be presented to the prefecture and distributed to local gentry, so that each clan could defend itself with its own militia.

It was perfectly natural for his elder brother, a junior officer, to assist in compiling such a manual; Liu Chengzong, for his part, took the opportunity to learn as much as he could.

But the more he studied, the more Liu Chengzong doubted the wisdom of his father’s plan to circulate the new manual. Once it was published, the ones most likely to use it to improve their fighting power would not be the village militia, but the bandits.

What did Liu Chengzong want?

Ultimately, he sought above all to survive the coming class struggle that would begin in Shaanxi— and to survive, eventually, one would have to choose between the peasant armies and the imperial forces.

He knew who would ultimately prevail, and he knew how quickly the peasant army would collapse after breaking into Beijing. But knowing all this was of no help in solving the immediate problem.

Even the emperor, who held the power of the empire, could not guarantee his own survival in this turmoil. How much less someone like himself, a mere man of arms?

“Father, I have no wish to become an outlaw. I only wish to preserve our clan, and, if possible, save a few more souls—however many we can.”

“To save people—have I not done that?” Liu Xiangyu shook his head with a sigh. “In Xingping Village, we can save dozens, perhaps over a hundred lives. But any more, and even the militia will go hungry. What are a hundred lives in the face of all that is happening in northern Shaanxi?”

“To my knowledge, there isn’t a single great household that isn’t giving out porridge to the starving, but equally, not one that isn’t using this opportunity to buy up land and issue heavy loans.”

“Land is the foundation for the great families. If you don’t buy, others will. Next famine year, your land will be bought up, and so the farmers starve. The court levies two hundred thousand in taxes, but the local government collects a million yet cannot deliver even two hundred thousand; thus, the army goes unpaid, the people are exhausted, and rebellion is inevitable.”

“You may save three or five, but the stream of refugees never ceases. The situation is beyond our control. In the end, all of northern Shaanxi will be dragged down. Fortunately, there is no grain left here—they will go to Hancheng.”