Chapter 37: The Ordinance of Grace! The Greatest Open Conspiracy in History!

The atmosphere inside the imperial carriage was peculiar. Zhu Gaochi continued to speak, lost in his own thoughts, entirely oblivious to the darkening expression on Old Zhu's face.

"The Tusi system, a relic of the barbarian Yuan dynasty, appears to have pacified the surrounding tribes, but it is a facade. These chieftains use the titles and stipends granted by the Imperial Court to consolidate their rule. They act as local despots, bullying the common folk while remaining subservient only as long as it suits their interests. If the Court demands too much, they rebel at the slightest provocation, clinging to their past merits to excuse their transgressions and intensifying their encroachments. Furthermore, because these positions are hereditary, these chieftains grow fat on excessive taxation over time. They acquire the status and resources to grow increasingly powerful, eventually using their private tribal armies to carve out independent fiefdoms."

"While the various Tusi of the Southwest may seem harmless for now, they are a hidden cancer that will fester over time. We must eradicate this threat to ensure the stability of the Ming dynasty."

These words struck Old Zhu like a heavy hammer, landing squarely in the depths of his heart. It was true that Zhu Xiongying's prior strategy of pacification and restoration had been the best approach in the immediate aftermath of the war. Yet, the problems Zhu Gaochi now laid out were the very roots of the instability in the Southwest.

"Then, Zhier, how do you suggest we resolve this?"

Old Zhu leaned forward slightly, his expression grave. He accorded his grandson the utmost attention, his gaze fixed on him as if searching for the master key to unlocking the Southwest dilemma in his answer.

"The first strategy is the 'Policy of Spreading Benevolence,'" Zhu Gaochi said, straightening his posture, his eyes gleaming with confidence. "We should borrow the strategy used by the Western Han dynasty to weaken their feudal lords. We shall extend this 'benevolence' to the children of the Southwestern chieftains, while simultaneously establishing prefectures and counties. By doing so, we will dilute the power of these chieftains, rendering them unable to act recklessly."

Old Zhu’s brows, which had been relaxed, furrowed immediately. He pondered for a moment before saying, "Your plan is sound, but the problem is that these chieftains are not fools. Why would they sit idly by and watch the Court do this?"

Unexpectedly, Zhu Gaochi chuckled and shook his head.

"They cannot stop it. They can only watch."

He paused, intentionally building suspense, then continued, enunciating each word: "The most sinister aspect of this 'Grand Strategy'—the greatest in history—lies in the human heart."

"The human heart?" Old Zhu was taken aback and looked at Zhu Gaochi. He had almost forgotten that this boy was a master at manipulating human nature. It was his own grandson who had devised the final plan for the Yunnan campaign, using human nature to manipulate the hearts of men, trapping the Yuan Prince of Liang and the Duan clan of Dali with deadly precision.

"Take the Western Han dynasty when they promulgated the Decree of Spreading Benevolence. Why didn't those vassal kings resist or rebel?" Zhu Gaochi narrowed his eyes, his expression cold and mocking. "Because they dared not, or perhaps, they had no reason to."

"The Decree did indeed weaken the power of the vassal kings. As new, smaller fiefdoms were created, the original states grew weaker. After three or five generations, these fiefdoms would become insignificant—lesser even than a single county."

"The vassal kings were not fools; they understood clearly that the Court was using a dull blade to slice away their strength. The problem, however, was that they did not have only one son. Only the eldest legitimate son could inherit the throne; the others were left with nothing. Once the king died, the fates of these younger sons rested entirely on the whim of the new king." The young man spread his hands, a look of helplessness on his face.

"But once the Decree was issued, the situation changed entirely. Aside from the eldest son inheriting the main kingdom, the younger sons could each receive a plot of land to rule as their own, ensuring they lived in comfort. Especially for the younger or illegitimate sons whom the kings favored, the kings could plot to secure them good lands before they died."

"In essence, the Decree sliced the 'cake' of the vassal states into smaller pieces, distributing them among the descendants. It truly harmed only the interests of the eldest legitimate heir. For those kings without grand ambitions, this was actually a relief. They did not want to be the target of the Emperor's suspicion, nor did they want their other sons to starve to death after they were gone," Zhu Gaochi explained, his eyes sparkling with intellect.

"Furthermore, to those younger and illegitimate sons, the Decree was a divine blessing. They had no claim to the throne. Once their father died, the new king might toss them some scraps of wealth before driving them away to fend for themselves."

"As sons of a king, while the eldest lived in luxury, the others were forced to wander or live in poverty. Why should they accept that? Just because of ancestral laws and Han traditions? People are selfish, and resentment naturally grows. The Decree was the spark that ignited that fire."

"Once the Decree was out, the younger descendants rejoiced. The loss was the eldest son's, not theirs. They only cared about securing their own fiefs and interests. Even if a king wanted to resist, it was impossible. The moment the Decree was announced, the unity of the clan shattered. If a king dared to resist, his own sons would report him to the Court, and they would all be finished."

"Unless a vassal king was incredibly ambitious and capable of suppressing his own descendants, he could only watch as the Decree took effect. That is the cruelty of this policy—it grips the human heart so tightly that it leaves the kings no room to rebel."

Zhu Gaochi spoke so plainly that even a fool could understand.

Old Zhu gasped, his face showing shock as he marveled at the brilliance of the strategy. People are selfish—that was the naked truth. The Decree provided the younger sons with a chance to seize power and profit. Why would they care about the loss of the kingdom’s strength or the eldest brother’s interests? After I am dead, let the flood come!

"Therefore, the same applies to the Southwestern chieftains," Zhu Gaochi laughed. "The logic is identical. These chieftains have more than one son, but because the Court allows hereditary succession, they only choose one heir. What about the others?" He tilted his head, looking at Old Zhu, waiting for a response.

"These chieftains are no different from the vassal kings of the Western Han. The Court should establish more official posts specifically for the other descendants of the chieftains. Once that happens, the Southwestern tribes will no longer be a unified iron wall."

"As the saying goes, the more leaders there are, the more chaotic the hearts become. Once everyone has their own household, with equal status and the backing of the Court, why should I listen to your commands? Just because you have a better birth? What are you proud of? I, too, can submit to the Ming and gain the same power and status as you!"

"In this way, internal strife will plague the chieftains. The Court can then strike—suppressing those who must be suppressed, annihilating those who must be destroyed, and winning over or supporting those who can be used. Once their unity is broken, they are easy to manage. Before long, these Southwestern chieftains will be unable to pose a threat, let alone dare to defy the Court."

Old Zhu’s gaze sharpened. If this were true, the strategy was indeed excellent and held great potential.

"By the sound of it," Old Zhu asked, "do you have a second strategy?"