Chapter 189
Chapter 189
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 189
Chapter Title: Spear and Shield (2)
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No matter how far the Qing Empire's administrative reach fell short in the west, by the harsh standards of Central Asia, it was impossible to hide the approach of an army numbering nearly that of an entire nation.
The Qing generals who had been zealously hunting humans amid the Tianshan Mountains also sensed the ominous presence.
Yet the Qianlong Emperor did not fly into a rage, panic, or grow anxious easily.
Instead, he framed the situation in a way everyone could grasp.
"The lewd and treacherous rebels have grown bold in their depravity."
This was not war. It was rebellion.
Because all of humanity belonged to the Qianlong Emperor. The very notion of a "foreign country" had never existed from the start.
Thus, negotiation was off the table.
Peace treaties were for foreign states, and pardons for the common folk. As with the Dzungars—mere "dogs and sheep"—no dialogue was needed.
Having defined it so, the Qianlong Emperor soon issued orders to his ministers.
"If we had exterminated the Dalai Lama's western barbarians as thoroughly as we did those Japanese devils calling themselves the Shameless Kingdom during the western campaign, would we be facing this today?"
It was not wrong. Had they swiftly eradicated the Dzungars and executed Amursana, he wouldn't be returning now at the head of a Russian army.
Thus, anyone claiming fatigue from the year-long Japanese expedition was a traitor who had invited this invasion by the Russian barbarians.
With that single statement, the Qianlong Emperor sealed the legitimacy of wars against both Japan and Russia.
The assessment that his tyrannical isolationism would bring downfall was somewhat overstated.
"Dual warfare" was not always taboo. Germany lost because it tried it, but America succeeded.
And the Qing's relative power on the globe clearly surpassed that of 20th-century America.
Most of the Eight Banners available for mobilization were either tied up in the Japanese expedition or guarding the capital region.
But deeming the Qing's main forces "pinned down" would be a grave miscalculation.
The Eight Banners had been the mainstay only in the dynasty's infancy. No matter their famed prowess, a minority elite force could never truly be the "main strength."
More bluntly, they weren't even cutting-edge anymore. The Mongol Banners sent to Japan might be one thing, but the Manchu Banners had few actual Manchus left among their ranks.
Perhaps because Han Chinese had been the primary foes throughout the reign, the Qing's true strength had always lain in the Green Standard Army.
During the Revolt of the Three Feudatories, the Kangxi Emperor mobilized what could be called a million-strong force in Romance of the Three Kingdoms terms—Green Standards all.
The Qianlong Emperor resolved to follow his grandfather's precedent.
First, military orders went out to all Green Standards in comparatively nearby Shaanxi and Gansu—some 90,000 troops, most of whom began advancing.
Naturally, soldiers were mustered from other provinces as well. As standing troops paid a modest one-and-a-half taels of silver per month, all had a duty to heed the emperor's summons.
The Qianlong era's Green Standard forces numbered 648,000. Even drafting a third yielded 200,000. With a mere gesture, the emperor conveyed his will to 1,169 battalion camps—the very essence of absolute monarchy.
The master of humanity gripped his massive hammer against the puny spear and shield.
The Third Quest of the Ten Great Military Merits
However, only the emperor held unshakable confidence that his battle hammer would smash both spear and shield alike.
The Jiangnan merchants, whose trade had been severed for a year and who had been bled dry for expedition costs to the brink of ruin, thought differently.
In a secret gathering spot in Shanghai, the heart of Jiangnan commerce, the merchants sighed deeply around a copy of the Qianlong Emperor's poem, handed down after his latest tribute extraction.
"This time, even Zhejiang's Green Standards—supposedly backing the western campaign—swept through taking whatever they pleased."
"That's the northwest frontier! We're in the southeast corner! How do they back anyone from the opposite end of the empire? It's just some prefect or commander filling his own coffers under that pretext!"
"No use complaining. Even if they're Green Standards, the high officers are all Manchus..."
"In Quanzhou, half the ships that sold beans to Japan have already fled in the night, rumor has it."
"Rumor indeed can't be trusted! Half? They all hit the streets or bolted. I can't even cash my own bills of exchange anymore."
Thus, their wary, incremental criticisms swiftly reached a tipping point.
"Why bother with a national treasury? If that's how it is, why collect taxes at all?"
"Does this expedition even exist? Or is it just scheming eunuchs siphoning funds?"
When one couldn't curse the sovereign directly, the villains got the blame. Few East Asian rebellions targeted the ruler from the outset.
In other words, they teetered on the brink of outright imperial slander.
And then, a man who scraped by resolving their violent disputes—not rich or a merchant himself—slammed the table.
The merchants jumped in shock. Beneath that fist lay a poem bestowed by His Majesty himself.
"Are you lot just going to sit here till your concubines are sold to brothels and your kids turn beggars? Is the famed chivalrous spirit of Jiangnan so pathetic now?!"
The scar etched across the man's face twitched.
"So, you're all just going to cower and let them rob you blind? Is that why we gathered? No, right? Otherwise, you'd have liquidated your assets and fled north or wherever by now. You all have other ideas brewing."
The merchants' faces stiffened, their thoughts read. They had merely awaited someone to speak first.
The man raised his hand, then struck a specific pose.
Kim Unhaeng would have cursed him as an unfilial son selling his own mother, but the thumb and pinky pointed oppositely.
With fist before his face, thumb skyward and pinky earthward—that sign was known to all in Jiangnan.
Heaven and Earth Society!
The fraternity of "knights" banded together after the Chongzhen Emperor's suicide, sworn to anti-Qing, restore-Ming cause.
Chief activities: opium trade, prostitution rings, slashings, contract beatings, and so on. Many couldn't even read the "Ming" in the oath, but it was all for the cause. Fittingly, this Heaven and Earth Society would later birth the infamous Triads.
The merchants exchanged urgent glances, belatedly realizing none knew this man's true name.
The nameless knight lowered his hand.
"Everyone's heard how our Hongmen passes down the peerless Hung Ga Fist with its iron-hard strength. These days, even kids train Tong Chun Gong, refining its mysteries further."
The profundity of Tong Chun Gong was known worldwide, but he wasn't boasting idly here.
Tong Chun Gong hailed from Haedong's Bongrae Mountain. The lucky captain Gosan Hwi, first to drift ashore on Jeju and claim Korea's inaugural smuggling glory, was the first to grasp its essence.
"Joseon?"
"Sharp as ever. You know those Joseon ships sneaking into fire-ravaged Shameless Kingdom, looting refugees? We swap their shady goods for ours. And word is, Joseon still clings to the Chongzhen Emperor's cause."
The crowd could scarcely believe it. How could foreigners uphold a name even this land had forgotten?
"I couldn't bear seeing Joseon folk mock our queues. They too were trampled by armies but never adopted barbarian ways. We, heirs of中华, wallow in shame oblivious."
Before they knew it, the trade meeting had morphed into a treasonous plot, unnoticed by all.
The knight lifted the Qianlong poem and declared firmly.
"A virtuous lord commands barbarians' submission without stirring. But now? Tibet, western barbarians, Japan all rebel, and even Joseon harbors other thoughts. If we raise the vermilion banner and rise, Joseon will join us. Then what of the Son of Heaven? He'll be a lonely commoner in the Forbidden City!"
As the knight strained at the end, the framed poem split clean in two.
No one mourned the literary loss.
The shogunate remained blissfully unaware of the Joseon Liberation Brigade's house-robbing amid the flames.
Kyushu's island nature hindered friend and foe alike. With few large ships, Japan exhausted itself just ferrying troops.
Moreover, the samurai summoned in loyal zeal from each domain behaved exactly like the old anti-Dong Zhuo coalition.
Those fleeing at first sight of Qing troops were almost commendable. Most whined about changing water or epidemics upon landing, begging to go home.
Japan's Kim Unhaeng (his avatar still young)—Danuma Okitsugu—rubbed his forehead.
After Urine Factory Shogun Ieshige died and the shrewd Ieharu took the throne, the problem was his shrewdness shone only on the go board.
Not surprising from a tennō. Japan had a tradition where the top ruler automatically abdicated governance. Ieharu cared for nothing but go.
Thus, Danuma—closer to outsized scandal subcontractor than powerbroker—yearned to retire.
Listening to the idiocy before him only intensified it. This informal council of shogunate elders lacked ceremony, but so too intelligence.
"Joseon's supplying Qing grain—that's the issue. We probed via Tsushima under guise of shogun inauguration envoys, but they claimed Qing threats left no choice."
"If we pressure Joseon to deny Qing passage, might they halt in fear? Qing could hesitate, fearing exposure..."
"What nonsense is this, dredging Bunroku-era drivel? Hey, drag this fool out!"
"Even without that, Jeju's worth targeting. Lose it, and no grain route."
"You hiding some grand navy? Ship it to Satsuma now—instead of this crap! The issue's daimyo holding back. Not one domain's sent half their quota!"
"Damn, if only those Dutch stayed in Nagasaki..."
The Netherlands bluffed as Europe's powerhouse to the shogunate till late 19th century. Intranet's not all perks.
Many shogunate elders regretted the Dutch absence. "Their mighty fleet" could've justified opening a port or two to cut Qing supplies.
But that vain sigh sparked inspiration in Danuma. He interjected slyly.
"Where are those Dutch anyway? Didn't the emperor's edict expel all westerners recently?"
Puzzled stares turned to him. Danuma sighed in exasperation.
"What else could it mean? Westerners crossed the emperor somehow! And we all know Dutch greed for trade. Whatever grudge, it's no trifle. Their base—Batavia—is in the south seas, not far. We must send ships south somehow."
Danuma's eyes were bloodshot.
"Dutch, anyone—fine. Even those old Portuguese exiles! If they just drive out the Tang bandits, let 'em preach their Kirishitan faith till they're hoarse."
No one noted that bankrupt Netherlands or ruined Portugal lacked means for East Asian wars regardless.
Some geared to protest his radicalism—Christian missions, full port openings.
Before they could, Danuma pounded the tatami fiercer.
"Hell, cede all Satsuma like Dejima! Everyone there dead anyway—who cares? If they send warships aplenty, devils are welcome!"
His zeal burned bright. But like all radicalism, it bore dire practical flaws.
Even big ones: How to ship from hellish Kyushu—Japan's southern gateway—to unknown southern ports? Would westerners pick Japan's bribes over mending China ties? Endless hurdles.
Yet scions of power oft enjoy heaven's fortune.
Not Dutch or Portuguese, but westerners perfectly matching Danuma's terms had already arrived—mere stone's throw by global measure.
The voyage from India to Philippines took a generous two months.
Riding the Indian Ocean's southeast trade winds, the British fleet arrived in Manila late September as planned.
Under Lieutenant Colonel William Draper's command, the British army launched immediate assault.
Nothing noteworthy about the battle.
Key San Antonio Fortress fell in two days. Spaniards, deploying native troops, surrendered swiftly after losing a third—to spare further "Christian" (white) sacrifice.
King Felipe's land (Philippines) fell tamely to Britain in under a week.
Ankle-deep in army glory, Draper puffed his pipe smugly.
"This? Scarcely merits 'prelude.' Hope the lads loosened up."
Admiral Richard Tiddman hated the sight but couldn't deny the feat. Representing the navy, he spoke.
"Scurvy signs show. Rest the sailors meantime—wait for unaware American ships en route. Capturing their gold, goods, vessels bolsters us greatly."
The Manila Galleon interception—Pansar and Argo botched it, withering idly at some rock.
Piracy at heart for British navy, but army Draper scarce grasped it. He opposed.
"I disagree. We're few; give China no prep time. Chinese swarm here—who says none dash off warning of our arrival?"
Only explanation: ignorance of eastern mindsets. To Qianlong, queue-less southern Chinese equaled British barbarians.
Yet Draper's words held sway now.
As Tiddman pondered rebuttals, unattached Colonel Robert Clive mediated smoothly.
"Easy now. Admiral's right—sailors' ills are real. Colonel's too—we're outnumbered."
Clive: no noble officer training, no European campaigns, but self-made thunder-riches in hardship-plagued India from boyhood poverty.
Draper, irked especially by the last, jutted his chin.
"Spit it out."
"Proposal: deliberate plans, gather intel. For the few, preparation rivals surprise."
"Plans? Navy just lands us safe. Rest..."
"From captured Chinese: China's mounting sea expedition to Japan from Formosa waters. Unlike we thought, they've concentrated forces south."
Draper cursed the useless Russians double.
Clive eyed Tiddman amid the tirade.
"Reconsider seizing Formosa, landing mainland for canal hold. Secure beachhead elsewhere."
Draper grumbled.
"Elsewhere? Not that mapless Jeju fantasy?"
"Hardly. Even a fool listening would've caught it."
Having needled Draper back, Clive smiled unwavering, crooking a finger.
"Japan's south—Chinese-ravaged, per them. Patrol Manila interim, snag any VOC ship for guides. Play it right, desperate Japan hands us bases, trade/military ports, native labor, funds—all."