Chapter Forty-Seven: Expanding the Army Once More

After a long while, it felt as though something suddenly became clear in his heart. Fu Ruguai returned to himself and let out a deep breath. "I understand now! Qin Yiming... you've taught me another lesson, made me realize even more how to train troops, how to govern an army!"

"An army... with a soul! Not just a mercenary force existing for food and pay!" Fu Ruguai strode forward, gazing at Zhu Cilang with an unprecedented firmness in his eyes.

Having finished speaking while seated on horseback, Zhu Cilang already sensed the difference in this army.

This was a force raised in the capital, the Jingying, composed mostly of sons of the capital with a relatively high literacy rate. Even those who could not read possessed strong comprehension. Zhu Cilang believed that his words had already begun to quietly change them, instilling something new into the ranks under his command.

Having accomplished this, all that remained for Zhu Cilang was to wait. To wait and see what brilliance this army would display, how strong it would grow.

As for other affairs… Zhu Cilang clearly intended to delegate them to his subordinates.

However, seeing Fu Ruguai hasten to catch up with him, Zhu Cilang felt a headache coming on. He recalled a particular task; it seemed that the matter of expanding the army would have to be personally overseen by himself.

“Yuan Xi, there is a task that I’m afraid you must handle yourself. It concerns the coming... great change of the realm!” Zhu Cilang spoke in a deep voice.

Yuan Xi was Fu Ruguai’s courtesy name. Hearing Zhu Cilang speak so seriously, Fu Ruguai was taken aback, but quickly responded, “Yes, I accept your order.”

Zhu Cilang nodded slowly, lost in thought.

Seeing Zhu Cilang silent, Fu Ruguai also held his tongue, shifting his gaze to the destination ahead.

Zhu Cilang was heading towards a series of decaying villages, most of the houses little more than heaps of earth, and even the rare brick and tile dwellings were dilapidated, with torn window paper or broken roof tiles.

In the distance, several kiln chimneys sent up blue smoke, and a handful of ragged, quick-moving men labored busily—clearly artisans.

This, evidently, was a craftsman’s village.

Fu Ruguai did not quite understand why Zhu Cilang had come here. Still, thinking of military matters, he voiced his concern, “Yiming, how will the expansion of the army be handled?”

Fu Ruguai’s question roused Zhu Cilang from his reverie. He replied slowly, “I will personally oversee the expansion. For the crucial aspects—provisions, legitimacy, arms and equipment, and recruitment—I have made arrangements.”

Zhu Cilang had no worries about provisions. His arrangement with Si En in the capital had not only won the Chongzhen Emperor’s approval for reforming the tax office, but also granted Zhu Cilang the authority to retain a portion of the taxes. Moreover, Linqing was the key grain transfer hub of the north; with silver in hand, there would be no shortage of supplies.

As for legitimacy, Zhu Cilang had his own solution.

The tax office was, by rights, a civil institution. Yet the canals were rife with bandits and disorder. Thus, the tax office possessed its own hidden armed force—a security-level contingent composed of chiefs and patrolmen.

Though the tax office was formally a sixth-rank bureau, its personnel, including patrolmen, laborers, and chiefs, numbered in the hundreds.

Zhu Cilang’s implementation of training and examination in the tax office was not only to strengthen his reforms and tighten control, but also to reorganize its armed force.

Naturally, the hundred and twenty musketmen and four hundred recruits under Zhu Cilang would fall under the tax office’s command, counted as its official military arm.

Of course, this was merely to establish legal status in name, allowing Zhu Cilang to draw on imperial resources to build his army. In reality, whether the imperial guards led by the Seventeenth Prince or the four hundred new recruits, Zhu Cilang’s drills and daily propaganda gave the impression of private retainers.

Aside from legitimacy and provisions, which Fu Ruguai guessed Zhu Cilang had covered, the matters of arms and recruitment gave him pause.

The tax office’s armed force was, by regulation, limited to security scale, making it difficult to openly use the capital’s firearms.

And as for recruitment, a large-scale conscription might well provoke censure from imperial censors.

Thinking this, Fu Ruguai voiced his concerns.

He expected Zhu Cilang to have some clever solution.

Unexpectedly, Zhu Cilang laughed at Fu Ruguai’s worries about raising a stir, saying, “Don’t worry about training the Lu Mi muskets, or equipping iron armor, longbows, and crossbows—anything that strengthens our fighting power need not be feared for attracting criticism. These matters, I will bear the consequences.”

Fu Ruguai gazed steadily at Zhu Cilang, finally replying softly, “I understand, sir.”

Hearing this, Zhu Cilang nodded, then said, “As for recruitment, I do not wish to make a spectacle—mainly, I don’t want anyone to know about the new army so soon. Therefore, the Ministry of Works’ Linqing Construction Bureau is a perfect place.”

“The Construction Bureau?” Fu Ruguai echoed. He was no ordinary scholar, but the son of Fu Shuxun, well-versed in court affairs. With a little thought, he recalled that Linqing did indeed have a Construction Bureau, established by the Yongle Emperor when the capital was moved to Beijing, to produce bricks and stones for the new city.

After the capital was completed, demand for bricks shrank, but Linqing’s kilns continued to supply tribute bricks, and there was always some need for firing kilns. Over the centuries, Linqing still had a Construction Bureau responsible for transporting bricks north—essentially a state enterprise of the Ming era.

Of course, Ming’s state enterprises were far from privileged, more like gangs of slave laborers.

Because the Construction Bureau was hard work with no profit, no one wanted to serve as its director; it was always left to a ninth-rank clerk to manage daily affairs.

Thus, when Zhu Cilang asked Yang Chuan to hand over the Construction Bureau, Yang Chuan readily agreed. On this matter, Yang Chuan had spoken truthfully.

It was now the late Ming, fifteen years into the reign of the Chongzhen Emperor. He worried daily over state affairs, had no mind for his own mausoleum, let alone for palace construction. So the tribute bricks once valued by the Yongle Emperor were now neglected.

The Construction Bureau had become a burden, requiring annual funding to stay afloat, but over the centuries the population had multiplied many times, and the Bureau’s meager funds could not possibly feed tens of thousands.

Naturally, it was deeply despised. Yet—Zhu Cilang had seized it as a treasure!