Chapter 137.

After several days of heated debate, the matter was finally settled by Yin Chengyu, who made the final call. The disaster-stricken citizens must be resettled, but the persistent breaches and shifting course of the canal could not be left unchecked.

The funds for canal restoration would be allocated from the private imperial treasury, with the understanding that they would be repaid once the national coffers were replenished.

As for the officials in charge of both the canal repairs and disaster relief, Yin Chengyu appointed two highly experienced officials from the Ministry of Works, and personally designated Xie Yunchuan as the Imperial Commissioner to oversee the process.

The night before Xie Yunchuan was set to leave the capital, Yin Chengyu, in plain clothes, ventured out of the palace to see him off.

On the surface, Xie Yunchuan was entrusted with the task of supervising the canal restoration and the resettlement of the disaster victims. However, his true mission, under the guise of a canal inspection tour, was to secretly assess the situation in Shandong and other administrative regions, particularly targeting the territories of local vassal kings.

The hope was to find a few of these rulers who were less compliant with imperial regulations, thus providing an opportunity to undermine their privileges and implement reform.

In this lifetime, many events had yet to unfold, and Xie Yunchuan’s experience and standing were not as formidable as they had been in his previous life. Yin Chengyu, fearing his impulsive nature and disregard for personal safety, had not only disguised himself to personally visit Xie Yunchuan at his residence but also assigned a small squad of elite East Bureau (Dongchang) agents to protect him in secret.

Xie Yunchuan, unaware of the deep connection between himself and the Emperor in his past life, felt a mix of gratitude and excitement in response to Yin Chengyu’s concern. He was filled with a sense of urgency, akin to the longing of ancient scholars for their long-lost companions. He was eager to rid the land of the vassal kings who had not adhered to the rules, all in gratitude for the Emperor’s trust.

Yin Chengyu, amused and slightly exasperated, couldn't help but laugh at how the once-cautious and calculating Xie Yunchuan now seemed so unrefined and naive.

Meanwhile, the companion, Xue Shu, let out a quiet, knowing "tch," his expression one of indifference. He leaned toward Yin Chengyu and whispered, “He’s easily manipulated these days.”

Yin Chengyu shot him a sidelong glance, raising an eyebrow. “So, this is how you manage to make him see you as a benefactor?”

Xue Shu simply smiled, saying nothing.

As Xie Yunchuan saw the two whispering and occasionally glancing in his direction, he assumed that Yin Chengyu was still worried about him. He hurriedly reassured them, “Your Majesty need not worry. I will not act recklessly.”

Yin Chengyu gave a casual “hmm,” eyeing him with interest, before finally stepping into the carriage and heading back to the palace.

*

After Xie Yunchuan departed for Shandong, Yin Chengyu seized the moment to isolate the Fujian Governor’s memorial proposing the formalization of maritime trade—transforming clandestine smuggling into regulated commerce—and presented it to the court for deliberation.

Since the implementation of the maritime ban, coastal governors, including those of Guangdong and Fujian, had repeatedly submitted petitions to lift it, all of which had been denied. Now, Yin Chengyu, intent on bolstering state revenue through maritime trade taxes, placed the matter squarely on the agenda.

The maritime ban, a policy originating with Founding Emperor Taizu of the Great Yan Dynasty, had grown increasingly draconian as piracy surged. Save for tribute trade, all private commerce with foreign nations was strictly forbidden. Yet the lure of overseas trade’s lucrative profits proved irresistible; smugglers thrived despite relentless suppression.

It was clear: where profit beckoned, prohibition failed. Instead of fighting the tide, Yin Chengyu resolved to channel it.

Having reviewed pre-ban records from Emperor Taizu’s reign, Yin found evidence of a thriving coastal trade economy generating annual transactions worth tens of millions of taels. If properly regulated and taxed, this could secure a robust stream of revenue for the imperial treasury.

The proposal to lift the maritime ban garnered widespread support from court officials, particularly the southern coastal faction, whose ties to the gentry and merchant clans ran deep. These clans had suffered substantial financial losses under the ban and had long lobbied for its repeal. Their influence behind the persistent petitions for reopening maritime trade was unmistakable.

However, Yin Chengyu’s motives were far from altruistic. His goal was not to enrich the gentry but to impose stricter taxation and redirect those profits to the state coffers.

Coastal officials had long obstructed tax reform, citing the plight of merchants and invoking the principle of not competing with the people for profit. As a result, Great Yan’s commercial tax rate remained a paltry 1/30, leaving wealthy merchants to amass fortunes rivaling that of the empire while the treasury ran dry in times of need.

Determined to push through his reforms, Yin Chengyu handpicked several young, sharp-minded officials recently elevated from the Hanlin Academy to counterbalance the entrenched senior ministers.

Through rounds of fierce debate, the policy to lift the maritime ban was finally enacted on the tenth day of the seventh month. These same young reformers were dispatched to oversee the establishment of customs offices in Guangdong and Fujian, tasked with managing trade and ensuring the collection of taxes.

With measures to both increase revenue and curb expenditures now in motion, Yin Chengyu awaited the results with confidence.

Buoyed by his success, Yin Chengyu indulged in a rare moment of leisure. Summoning Xue Xu, he had his brother, Yin Chengyue, brought from Renshou Palace to join him in the garden. He even called for the tiger cub, General Hu. Together, the unlikely trio—a man, a child, and a cub—spent the afternoon frolicking.

Xue Shu observed from the sidelines until Yin Chengyue, small but bold, decided to mount General Hu, gripping the tiger’s fur in an attempt to ride it. Despite Yin Chengyu’s half-hearted attempts to dissuade him, the boy persisted. Finally, Yin Chengyu turned to Xue Shu with an air of amused authority. “You’re his martial teacher. If he wants to learn to ride a tiger, then teach him.”

Yin Chengyu, ever the picture of nonchalance, waved his hand and retreated to sip tea, his gaze brimming with undisguised amusement at Xue Shu’s predicament.

Left with no choice, Xue Shu stiffly approached the tiger, lifted the eager child onto its back, and guided the cub in a cautious trot. Two laps later, he attempted to end the ordeal, but Chengyue, having tasted the thrill of tiger riding, clung stubbornly to General Hu’s back, issuing garbled protests.

Mistaking this for a new game, the tiger cub roared enthusiastically, its cries echoing through the garden. The nursemaid stood helpless on the sidelines while Xue Shu’s face darkened, veins bulging on his temple. Were it not for Yin Chengyu’s watchful eye, Xue Shu might have demonstrated precisely what it meant to be a martial teacher.

Fortunately, the stalemate was broken by the arrival of Wei Xihe bearing urgent news. Relieved, Xue Shu swiftly extracted the protesting Chengyue from the tiger’s back and handed him over to the nursemaid before striding over to Wei.

“What is the report?” he demanded, his voice cutting through the chaos with palpable urgency.

Wei Xihe stepped forward and presented the confidential report hidden within his sleeve to Yin Chengyu. His tone was measured but firm as he explained, “This is a secret message from the Oirat. I did not dare to open it without your orders.”

“A signal from Uju already?” Yin Chengyu raised an eyebrow, his surprise faint.

Taking the document, he broke the seal and read it. As he finished, a faint smile tugged at his lips before his expression darkened into a contemplative frown. He handed the letter to Xue Shu, saying, “Uju has proven to be a far more valuable pawn than I had anticipated.”

Indeed, she had moved faster than he had envisioned.

Back when Yin Chengjing staged his coup, Yin Chengyu had used the ensuing chaos to orchestrate Uju’s transfer to the Oirat prince, Muduo.

The plan was cunning: Uju would destabilize the Oirat internally and later leverage her knowledge of the Tatars to restrain their ambitions. At that time, the old Oirat king had perished, leaving the throne to his pampered youngest son, Mubai’er. However, Mubai’er, being young and inexperienced, struggled to command loyalty, while his elder brother Muduo, a seasoned and ambitious warrior, sought to usurp the throne by force.

Yet Muduo, for all his bravery, lacked the strategic acumen to decisively crush Mubai’er’s faction, leading to a prolonged stalemate between the two brothers.

Escorted by Eastern Bureau agents, Uju had arrived in Oirat territory under a forged identity as a displaced tribal maiden. She was presented to Muduo, who years earlier had sought her affection, only to be coldly rebuffed. Now confronted with a woman who was her exact likeness, Muduo was utterly captivated.

Uju quickly leveraged his infatuation, solidifying her position within the Oirat court. Acting as Muduo’s confidante and strategist, she guided him in his power struggle, repeatedly dealing devastating blows to Mubai’er’s faction. Trusting her entirely, Muduo soon emerged victorious, seizing the throne, and elevating Uju to the position of his most favored consort.

According to the secret report, Uju was now pregnant. Although Muduo had other wives and concubines, they had borne him only daughters. Should Uju deliver a son, her path to becoming the Oirat queen would be unchallenged.

Currently, Muduo doted on Uju without reserve, and under her persuasion, the newly crowned king had expressed a willingness to submit to the Great Yan dynasty, seeking protection through a formal alliance.

But Uju’s ambitions clearly extended far beyond this. In addition to outlining the terms of submission and the generous rewards she expected, Uju proposed a bold request: she urged Great Yan to dispatch troops to aid the Oirat in launching an offensive against the Tatars.

The Oirat, historically weaker than the Tatars, had been further crippled by the recent internal strife over the throne. Meanwhile, the Tatars, though outwardly dormant since the infamous Danxi Winter Hunt, had been secretly amassing strength, biding their time to strike.

Uju revealed that the Tatars had already begun mobilizing troops, testing Oirat defenses on several occasions—clear signs of their intent to invade. It was only under such pressure that Muduo had reluctantly agreed to Uju’s plan.

However, Uju’s motivations were anything but altruistic. She harbored a deep grudge from the Danxi Winter Hunt, when she was abandoned without hesitation. Now, she sought to use Great Yan’s power to deal a devastating blow to the Tatars, exacting her long-awaited revenge.

“What’s your opinion?” Yin Chengyu asked, turning to Xue Shu.

Xue Shu folded the letter carefully, his tone steady but laced with caution. “It’s an excellent opportunity, but too precipitous. We also can’t rule out the possibility of the Oirat turning on us and siding with the Tatars.”

Yin Chengyu nodded thoughtfully. Uju had moved with startling speed. If she had waited another six months, he wouldn’t hesitate for a moment. While it was clear that Uju aimed to exploit Great Yan to crush the Tatars, wasn’t he equally eager to seize the chance to swallow both the Oirat and the Tatars, bringing the northern tribes to their knees?

Yet, to let this opportunity slip through his fingers was equally unbearable.

After a long silence, Yin Chengyu finally spoke, his tone sharp and resolute: “Summon the Ministers of Revenue and War to the palace at once.”

……

Yu Chen and Lu Jing were summoned to the palace together. At the palace gates, they crossed paths and instantly noticed the deep confusion etched on each other's faces.

Inside the Hall of Yangxin Palace, they found Yin Chengyu seated behind a desk, his gaze lowered as he meticulously examined a letter.

When the two approached, Yin Chengyu first turned his sharp eyes to Lu Jing, the Minister of War. “How many troops can the nine border garrisons currently mobilize?” he asked directly.

The Great Yan Empire had long established nine critical military garrisons along its northern borders, stretching from the Ma Zi River in the east to the Jiayu Pass in the west—a sprawling network commanding 70% of the empire’s total military strength.

Lu Jing replied without hesitation, “The nine border garrisons collectively number 680,000 soldiers.”

“If I were to mobilize 300,000 troops for a northern campaign, how long could our supplies sustain them?” Yin Chengyu pressed further, his tone calm but unyielding.

The question startled Lu Jing. He instinctively glanced at Yu Chen and stammered, “The borders have been peaceful for years, without a major war. The Ministry of War’s reserves could sustain the forces for half a month at most. Anything beyond that would require funds from the Ministry of Revenue.”

Yu Chen, eyes wide with disbelief, shot back immediately, “The canal restoration funds already came from the private imperial treasury! Where would the Ministry of Revenue find extra money?!”

Yin Chengyu leaned back slightly and tapped the table, his expression unreadable. “If we exhaust both the imperial and national treasuries, can we stretch it to three months?”

Yu Chen quickly calculated, his fingers twitching as he muttered under his breath. After a moment, he hesitated. “It’s possible, but—”

Before he could finish, Yin Chengyu cut him off decisively. “Three months will suffice.”

Three months would be enough for the measures he had implemented—cutting princely stipends and restructuring coastal trade—to begin bearing fruit. Even if the war extended beyond three months, the empire’s foundation would remain intact.

It was only then that Yu Chen and Lu Jing realized why they had been summoned. Both couldn’t resist advising caution. “A northern campaign is no trivial matter, Your Majesty. Please reconsider carefully.”

Yu Chen, in particular, glared at his seemingly calm and composed nephew, suppressing the urge to shout that the treasury was far too empty to support such a war.

But Yin Chengyu had clearly made up his mind. He pushed the sealed letter toward them. “Even if we don’t strike now, a clash with the Tatars is inevitable this winter. Their ambitions were glaringly obvious during last year’s Danxi winter hunt.”

In the previous timeline, the Tatars had indeed invaded the northern borders in the winter of the 19th year of Longfeng’s reign. Waiting for the enemy to prepare fully would only invite disaster. Seizing the initiative was the only way to catch them off guard.

Yet, Yin Chengyu was painfully aware of the risks. The Great Yan Empire was still recovering from years of neglect, desperately needing time to heal. Launching a war now was undeniably a gamble.

A victory would stabilize the empire, but a defeat...

Seeing their hesitation, Yin Chengyu waved them off, his tone finally softening. “A northern campaign is no small matter. I will weigh this carefully. For now, speak of this to no one.”

Relieved that he wasn’t charging forward recklessly, Yu Chen and Lu Jing bowed and left.

Once the room was empty, Yin Chengyu leaned heavily into his chair, rubbing his temples as his thoughts churned.

Xue Shu stepped behind him and began massaging his temples. “In the previous timeline, I led the troops against the Tatars. If not for Oirat's interference and the disruption of our supply lines, three months would have been enough to crush the Tatars.”

Yin Chengyu sighed deeply. “But that was under ideal circumstances. I don’t trust Uju.”

Uju was indeed his pawn within Oirat, but she was cunning and ambitious, far from a simple tool. She would stop at nothing for personal gain, even if it meant betrayal. Though his agents kept close watch on her, there was no guarantee she wouldn’t collude with the Tatars to entrap the Great Yan Empire.

Even if the odds of such treachery were slim, he couldn’t afford to ignore the possibility.

Xue Shu, after a moment of thought, suggested, “Then send someone to Oirat to probe for weaknesses and gather intelligence. Only after that should we decide.”

Yin Chengyu nodded, his fingers tightening around the letter. The road ahead was fraught with peril, but hesitation was a luxury he could ill afford.