Chapter 109: Luchuan II

Chapter 109: Luchuan (II)

Such matters were not something Zhu Qizhen could resolve by mere wishful thinking. Had he been within the Qianqing Palace, he could have easily accessed all the archived documents regarding Luchuan; however, as things stood, he was left to rely on his own memory.

Luchuan did not exist as a nation in the later ages, but that was certainly not because it lacked strength. On the contrary, Luchuan was formidable. Its rise did not begin in the present day but traced back to the late Yuan Dynasty. At that time, in the Yunnan region, the Prince of Liang and the Duan family were locked in a power struggle, leaving them no time to attend to Luchuan. The Si clan of Luchuan seized this opportunity to establish their power. They were eventually granted amnesty by the Yuan court and incorporated as one of the regional command offices of the Yunnan Province. This was a typical characteristic of the Yuan era: while the empire appeared vast, its actual administration was quite crude, and many of these command offices functioned as independent or semi-independent regimes.

This period coincided with the rule of Si Kefa, the great-grandfather of the current leader, Si Renfa. By the fifteenth year of the Hongwu reign, the grandson of Si Kefa—Si Renfa’s father, Si Lunfa—had ascended to power. Si Lunfa expanded the family’s legacy, establishing himself as the hegemon of the Southwest. His strength was immense, with his domain stretching north to Tibet, east to Jingdong, and south to Myanmar. In terms of modern geography, this encompassed the majority of northern Myanmar, parts of Laos, sections of Yunnan, and even portions of Thailand. It was said that at the height of his power, he commanded an army of three hundred thousand. Many regarded Luchuan as being on par with Nanzhao or Western Xia. There were even conflicts between Luchuan and Myanmar, and while one might assume the latter would prevail, the reality was that Luchuan soundly crushed them.

However, the core region of Luchuan was centered in what is now Ruili County, Yunnan. The Ming court could not tolerate such a powerful, secessionist regime. Thus, in the seventeenth year of the Hongwu reign, the first major confrontation between the Great Ming and Luchuan began. Si Lunfa paid tribute to the court, feigning submission while secretly building his strength for an eastward expansion. Yet, while Si Lunfa was no weakling, the Founding Emperor was an old fox who had been prepared all along. General Mu Ying, in particular, led a force of only thirty thousand to shatter Luchuan’s army of over a hundred thousand, using firearms to devastate their elephant corps.

Defeated, Si Lunfa sued for peace. The Founding Emperor accepted, but simultaneously and without hesitation, he divided the territories east of Luchuan into various chieftainships, effectively fracturing the once-mighty Luchuan. The Emperor had recognized the fatal weakness of the region: its various tribes were loyal only to their local leaders, and the core Luchuan forces were quite limited. Mu Ying continued to systematically weaken them, and Si Renfa himself was even raised as a hostage within the Mu household.

Upon Si Renfa’s ascension in the eleventh year of the Yongle reign, he knew of the court’s might and remained outwardly submissive, sending tribute without fail. Yet, he was not truly reconciled. During the Yongle years, while remaining compliant toward the court, he acted differently elsewhere, conquering and annexing the smaller chieftainships to his west and south. After the Renzong Emperor took the throne, the Ming’s grand strategy shifted from external expansion to contraction. Si Renfa cautiously tested the court several times and discovered that even when he annexed tribes loyal to the Ming, the court would offer nothing more than a formal reprimand. His audacity grew. Following the deaths of the Renzong and Xuanzong Emperors and the abandonment of Annam, his confidence was further emboldened. From the beginning of the Zhengtong era, his actions crossed the court’s threshold of tolerance, yet he ignored all warnings. By now, he had restored Luchuan to the full extent of its zenith, claiming an army of three hundred thousand.

Of course, the Ming court had always held the combat capability of the southwestern tribes in contempt. Back then, Mu Ying had decimated Luchuan with thirty thousand troops. But how many Mu Yings could the Ming produce? Even then, Mu Ying had been backed by endless reinforcements; the Founding Emperor had already been preparing to send over a hundred thousand troops into Yunnan before the news of the great victory arrived. Today, the court’s military strength was far inferior to that of the past. In the third year of Zhengtong, the Ministry of War officially reported a shortfall of over 1.2 million soldiers, and the combat effectiveness of regional garrisons had declined significantly.

Reviewing the history of Luchuan and assessing the current situation, Zhu Qizhen knew that a military response was inevitable. However, to conquer Luchuan, he would need at least three to four hundred thousand troops, and these could not be mere names on a roster. The court simply did not have the manpower. The Ming’s main military force was concentrated on the Nine Frontiers, and with the Oirat Mongols growing strong under Toghon—especially following the death of Atai Khan—the pressure on the Nine Frontiers was increasing daily. Although Atai Khan died at the hands of the Ming, his death left Toghtoa Bukha as the sole Khan of the steppe, garnering the support of all tribes and vastly increasing Toghon’s power. Zhu Qizhen did not believe it was rational to withdraw troops from the Nine Frontiers at such a time. The defense of the Ming had always been centered there; while the loss of Yunnan would be a painful blow, a breach of the Nine Frontiers by the Oirats would be a matter of life and death.

Yet, if not from the Nine Frontiers or the Capital Guard, where could he draw troops? As previously noted, the only route to Yunnan was through Guizhou, a thousand-mile journey of treacherous post roads, and the Ming’s control over Guizhou itself was weak, with most areas governed by local chieftains. The best solution would be to dispatch several tens of thousands of elite troops to crush Luchuan in a single stroke, but this created a dilemma: without the elite forces from the Nine Frontiers, a quick victory in Yunnan could not be guaranteed, yet deploying them would leave the North exposed to the Oirats.

This was the first intractable problem. The second was Zhu Qizhen’s fear that the war in Yunnan would drag on indefinitely. While he hoped for a swift campaign, he knew the terrain of the modern China-Myanmar border and northern Myanmar all too well—deep mountains and dense forests where a decisive, clean sweep was far from easy. Unlike the hope of a quick victory, Zhu Qizhen was more concerned about the aftermath. Zhuge Liang had to capture and release the southern barbarian leader seven times, and even after Mu Ying’s great victory, he had to guard Yunnan for the rest of his life. The Ming’s elite forces could not remain stationed in Yunnan for long; once the main army departed, the situation there would likely revert to chaos.

Countless thoughts raced through Zhu Qizhen’s mind. He watched the soldiers practicing archery, but his heart was not in it. Even the nobles present were distracted, whispering among themselves; many had deep ties with the Mu family and were both confused and sympathetic toward Mu Sheng’s plight. Only the soldiers below, striving to hit their marks, remained oblivious to these undercurrents.

Although Zhu Qizhen had not returned to the capital from the Nanhaizi Imperial Park, Wang Zhen and Jin Ying were far from idle. Nearly every hour, a messenger arrived from the city to report the latest developments. As expected, by the next day, all civil and military officials in the capital were aware of the news. The question of whether to fight or negotiate with Luchuan became the hottest topic in the court. This was not the first time such discussions had taken place—in Zhu Qizhen’s memory, the issue had been debated at least forty times since the first year of the Zhengtong era.

However, the scale of the meetings had escalated. It began with internal discussions at the Ministry of War, then moved to consultations between the Ministry and the Five Chief Military Commissions, and eventually to the Cabinet. But this time, the Empress Dowager had sent word for Zhu Qizhen to prepare: upon his return, a grand court assembly would be convened, involving the Cabinet, the Six Ministries, the Censorate, the Five Chief Military Commissions, and the nobility. It was a net cast to catch every high-ranking official in the government. Not even the conflicts in the Northwest had warranted such a meeting, for no Duke had perished in those campaigns. Though the Empress Dowager had not said it explicitly, she implied that this was another opportunity for Zhu Qizhen to assert his authority before his ministers. Over the past year or two, whether because she felt her health failing or believed in his growing capacity to manage state affairs, she had increasingly allowed Zhu Qizhen to take the lead in meeting with officials and handling the business of the empire.