Chapter 103: Two Hemispheres, Seven Continents, and Five Oceans All Rest Upon My Shoulders!

Dignity lies only on the edge of the sword, and truth exists only within the range of cannon fire! This is the pivotal instrument for global domination!

“Why does the Hongwu era always grant me magical powers? Is there some special intention behind it?”

Zhu Youjian shook his head, sinking into thought as he began drafting plans for the future development of the Chongzhen reign.

The first step must be another voyage to the Western Seas, followed by an eastern campaign against the Japanese, and a northern expedition to Jianzhou to reestablish the Nurhaci Military Commission!

Then a westward campaign into the Western Regions, setting up the Yilibali Military Commission! Reestablishing the Us-Tsang Military Commission!

Advance north to repel the Russian invaders and establish the Helin Military Commission!

Initiate the first industrial revolution—build railroads and deploy steam locomotives across the nation!

Abolish the military commissions to recentralize power!

A western campaign to control Central Asia!

Restore the old feudal system!

Let the Ming Dynasty become the ruler of the Eurasian continent, dividing territories among feudal kings!

“The Ming Dynasty governs two hemispheres, seven continents, and five oceans— all resting on my shoulders,” Zhu Youjian sighed.

Reform the Ming Dynasty into a constitutional monarchy!

The second industrial revolution...

Ahem!

Thinking a bit too far ahead.

Fan Jingwen hasn’t even perfected the steam engine yet.

Zhu Youjian blinked and muttered, “Grand Secretary Fan isn’t exactly straightforward.”

“Yujian, what are you dawdling for? Everyone’s waiting for your orders to head home,” Hongxi, the jovial elder, approached with hands tucked inside his sleeves.

“Great Grandfather Taizu?” Zhu Youjian asked.

“Let’s go, great grandson. It’s time to put these Ming silver coins to use!” Zhu Yuanzhang stood and nodded.

“All right!”

With a flourish of his long sleeves, Zhu Youjian and a dozen or so attendants vanished.

First, send Fourth Prince Zhu back to the capital, then escort Zhu Gaoxu to the Japanese capital.

“Yujian, remember to take me along for the next event!” the reluctant Zhu Gaoxu of Jianwen said.

“Don’t worry!”

...

The Chongzhen era.

The moon was bright and the stars sparse.

“This isn’t work for humans!”

Zhu Youjian, exhausted, lay sprawled on his imperial bed, tongue lolling out.

Even with two kinds of magical powers, his physical constitution hadn’t caught up.

He waved his hand.

A bewildered Wang Cheng’en was summoned, joy evident in his eyes.

“Your Majesty, you’ve finally returned!”

“Well, during my absence, has anyone dared to challenge authority?” Zhu Youjian mumbled.

Wang Cheng’en respectfully replied, “Your Majesty, you won’t believe it—these past days, some reckless officials forced the abolition of the Western Depot!”

“Oh? And then?”

Zhu Youjian raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t appointed Wang Cheng’en as Western Depot Commander just to hear complaints.

Wang Cheng’en smiled slyly, “Now, there are no officials daring enough to defy you!”

Imperial power authorized immediate execution without reporting!

In other dynasties, such orders might be a joke, ultimately requiring secret imperial approval. But in the Chongzhen era, the emperor’s infrequent presence meant immediate execution was final—no questions asked.

“Excellent. Remember, any civil official who shows their face, execute them on sight!” Zhu Youjian declared firmly.

Anyone who dared show up would be instantly eliminated!

“As you command!”

Wang Cheng’en grinned like a blooming chrysanthemum, completely unfazed by the possibility of future repercussions.

Starting from a single vulnerable position, he had risen to immense power—no need for anything else!

Suddenly, Wang Cheng’en spoke solemnly, “Your Majesty, the Eight Great Shanxi Merchants have appeared in the capital recently. They are extremely cautious, leaving no trace for me to exploit. What are your orders?”

“When did you ever need evidence to kill someone in the Western Depot?” Zhu Youjian arched an eyebrow.

“Your Majesty’s reprimand is noted!” Wang Cheng’en quickly bowed his head.

Zhu Youjian waved his hand, tossing a golden token to him. “Go. Get a rifled gun and spread the word: whoever among the Eight Great Shanxi Merchants shows their head, shoot them immediately!”

Stunned!

Wang Cheng’en was dumbfounded.

What an immense trust—an imperial close aide entrusted with firearms, especially rifled guns, whose components were so strictly controlled that even a missing part would trigger a city-wide search!

“What are you standing there for? Go quickly! If these people sleep peacefully for one day, I won’t sleep peacefully either!” Zhu Youjian urged, still lying on the bed without lifting his head.

“Yes!”

Wang Cheng’en quietly withdrew, gently closing the palace door behind him, kowtowing thrice with respect before striding out with renewed vigor.

Tonight, a thorough hunt!

Zhu Youjian rose, strode over to grab a book, and read with great interest.

Does killing someone require a reason?

Is it unnecessary?

Or is it necessary?

For a select few emperors, the answer was no!

Among the Ming emperors, if one ranked their imperial skills, Zhu Yuanzhang, Zhu Di, and Zhu Houcong would top the list. But if ranking by cunning, the order would be reversed.

The Jiajing Emperor was truly unmatched, utterly without guile.

Taizu Zhu Yuanzhang was sentimental; he required evidence before executing someone, adhering to proper legal procedures. However, one person’s case often implicated thousands.

During Zhu Di’s reign, things were far more forceful—officials like Yang Shiqi, Yang Rong, and Jin Youzi were imprisoned without cause. Even Grand Secretary Xie Jin’s slight misstep led to execution without justification.

Under the Jiajing Emperor, ruthlessness intensified. None of his associates met a good end—like the proverb “when the birds are gone, the bow is hidden; when the cunning rabbit dies, the hunting dog is cooked!”

Zhu Yuanzhang never reached such extremes, and neither did Zhu Di.

But everyone who served Jiajing met grim fates. Before his death, he left Emperor Longqing one of the strongest cabinets in Ming history.

Among the civil officials were Gao Gong and Hai Rui—both top-tier talents.

Gao Gong could single-handedly manage the cabinet with exceptional skill.

Hai Rui openly confronted Jiajing, often putting the emperor at a disadvantage. If not for imperial protocol forbidding direct intervention, Hai Rui’s candid remarks would have been formally recorded.

Among the military were Qi Jiguang and Yu Dayou, both formidable commanders.

Qi Jiguang spent decades traversing Ming territory by land and sea, engaging in over a hundred battles without a single defeat!

In history, besides a few like Huo Qubing and Li Jing, few generals could claim invincibility. Being a victorious general was already remarkable; never losing was extraordinary.

Qi Jiguang: “Brother, I’ve never lost!”

Often outnumbered, surviving the cold weapons era without death marked him as a military prodigy.

Frequent domestic quarrels don’t count; losing to one’s wife is no measure of military achievement.

These two civil officials and two generals formed an unbeatable team. After Zhu Zaihou ascended as Emperor Longqing, he entrusted them with great responsibilities.

Then he hid deep in the palace, mastering half the art of hiding from officials like his father, Jiajing, preventing civil officials from toppling the regime. This ensured a prosperous Ming era lasting two to three decades without issue!

Unfortunately, the regime collapsed, poisoned by his wife and mother.

Upon Emperor Muzong’s death, his wife and mother instantly became Empress Dowager and Grand Empress Dowager, colluding with Feng Bao to control the Directorate of Ceremonies and Zhang Juzheng to dominate the cabinet.

The iron triangle!

Ming politics fell under these three factions’ control.

When this faction rose, Emperor Muzong’s team was dismantled.

That very day, Gao Gong, the leading Grand Secretary, was ordered out of the capital within twelve hours or face execution.

Hai Rui was flawless, impossible to find fault with—even with a magnifying glass—and was beloved by the people. The iron triangle couldn’t suppress him, ultimately promoting him to a comfortable retirement.

Yu Dayou was exiled to Guangdong, sidelined.

Qi Jiguang fared worst. A marquis and even duke-level figure, in his later years he was discarded like a hunted rabbit and a cooked dog—sent to the mountains near Beijing to oversee Great Wall repairs as a foreman.

(Ah? Foster father!!! Ten yuan received!!! Alright, alright, if time permits, I’ll write an extra chapter for the foster fathers tomorrow!)

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