Daily Life of a Villain at Work [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 50

Chapter 50: The Fourteenth Day of the Villain Being Emperor

Chu Xin had no reason to refuse, but before General Liu departed, she asked one final question.

“The women from the very first training batch—are they capable of the battlefield yet?” Chu Xin asked, a spark of anticipation in her eyes.

General Liu pondered for a moment. “They are, but their combat effectiveness cannot match veteran soldiers; they are roughly on par with ordinary new recruits. Master Chu, the battlefield is cruel. Even seasoned soldiers cannot guarantee their own survival. Once there, it is all up to fate. If possible, let them start with small-scale skirmishes to avoid heavy casualties.”

Satisfied with the answer, Chu Xin asked no more. Three days later, when General Liu finished packing, Chu Xin saw her off with fine wine.

…

Upon receiving Wang Yuejiao’s petition for war, Wen Qingyun did not decide immediately. Instead, she brought the matter to the morning court, letting the officials debate whether to launch a large-scale strike against the pirates (Wokou) along the coast.

The Wokou had plagued the Great Qian Dynasty since its founding. While garrisoned soldiers were stationed in coastal prefectures, the friction had never ceased. The pirates were experts at finding loopholes—striking one place and vanishing to another—forcing the local garrisons into a purely defensive posture for years.

According to Wang Yuejiao’s report, internal strife in Japan this year had caused a surge in the number of rogue pirates fleeing to sea. If the current defensive strategy continued, the situation would become increasingly passive.

“Your Majesty, I believe we only need to drive them out of our borders. The sea is vast; if they scatter, we will be the ones put at a disadvantage.”

“Your Majesty, I say we fight! And fight hard! Our ships and cannons are not for show. I am willing to lead troops to join General Wang and crush them together!”

“Your Majesty, perhaps we should deliberate further? Japan is far across the sea. To eradicate the pirate menace, we would have to strike their mainland. Such a war might not end in a year or two, and preparing the necessary grain and supplies is no small feat.”

Evidently, while the ministers disagreed on the scale of the war, none opposed taking action. The blood feud between Great Qian and the Wokou spanned a century. Every few years, a large-scale raid would occur, followed by an imperial expedition that would slay hundreds or thousands, keeping the rest at bay for a short time. But they were like unkillable locusts—quiet for a few years, only to return.

Wen Qingyun certainly wanted to wipe them out, but the Jiangnan gentry had not been dealt with yet. Measuring the land would take a year, planning another, and implementation a third. Starting a massive war now would give those elite families the chance to reclaim land and labor. War meant high casualties and fluctuating prices—the perfect environment for the gentry to manipulate the economy.

“Minister of Revenue,” Wen Qingyun asked, her voice unreadable. “Tell me, how many people in the coastal prefectures have died because of the Wokou over the years?”

“Reporting to Your Majesty, over the last century, a total of 35,000 soldiers and civilians have perished at their hands,” the Minister replied solemnly.

“I ask you all: shall we seek vengeance for these soldiers and people?”

“Your Majesty, I am willing to lead the purge!”

“I am too! I have fought naval battles; I beg to lead the vanguard!” The hot-headed military officers were already kneeling to volunteer.

The civil officials were more tempered, but the figure of 30,000 dead made them clench their fists. The Minister of War remained silent, but he already guessed the Emperor’s intent. In a century of conflict, the Wokou death toll approached 100,000—nearly triple Great Qian’s losses.

“I ordered General Wang to recruit along the coast early on. After two years, the troops are well-trained,” Wen Qingyun decided. “Since there is no objection, General Wang shall serve as the Governor-General of Zhejiang, Fujian, and Taiwan for the duration of the war, with full authority over the purge. I want no trace of pirates within a hundred miles of our coast, and no remnant of them left on the offshore islands. Director of the Court of State Ceremonial, draft an edict to our vassal state, Joseon: tell them to prepare for war. If Japan does not show sincerity, they can wait for my navy to trample that tiny island nation.”

The officials offered no protest. A great power that couldn’t even defend a hundred miles of sea was a disgrace.

…

The moment the decree arrived, Wang Yuejiao led her 50,000 trained soldiers toward the coast. Coastal terrain was complex and unsuitable for large-scale battles, so her strategy used thousands-man units to encircle and cut off the pirates’ retreat.

She couldn’t find the pirates hiding on distant islands yet, but any pirate who dared set foot on Great Qian soil was marked for death. Her plan was meticulous; she expected to wipe out over 10,000 pirates with minimal losses.

But the “unforeseen” occurred. When the main force moved to Taizhou Prefecture, the plan met its first failure. The pirates seemed to have heard the wind; by the time the vanguard arrived after a forced march, they found only a village slaughtered to the last person.

Wang Yuejiao’s first reaction was rage, but she quickly calmed down. Pirates usually targeted high-value goods like treasures from maritime trade. Fishing villages had no “fat” to skim; they were rarely targeted. There was no reason to slaughter a village unless they knew her plan, retreated early, and did this specifically to taunt and provoke her.

She wasn’t a fool. She realized there was a hateful traitor in her ranks—or among the local gentry who collaborated with pirates for illicit trade.

She immediately scrapped her original plan. She stopped relying on local garrisons and switched to an all-elite operation. She broke her forces into 500-man squads specifically designed to intercept small groups of pirates.

…

In November, as the first heavy snow fell on the capital, Wen Qingyun received dozens of memorials impeaching Wang Yuejiao.

The local officials of the coastal prefectures accused her of “ineffective combat” leading to civilian deaths. Some suggested appointing “local generals familiar with the terrain” to better fight the pirates. Others complained that her requisition of grain caused local prices to skyrocket, leaving the people hungry.

A weaker monarch might have wavered, or at least scolded the General to save face. But Wen Qingyun saw through it instantly. These complaints weren’t about military failure; they were the gentry’s attempt to force the court to loosen its grip on Jiangnan.

Publicly, Wen Qingyun shelved the memorials, offering no response while continuing to fund Wang Yuejiao. Privately, she handed ten of those memorials to Weiyu, ordering her to take three hundred elite Jinyiwei south to investigate every single signatory.

The gentry were pushing back against Wen Qingyun’s “Third Step”—the redistribution of land. They chose to sabotage the pirate purge, colluding with the enemy and using innocent lives to blackmail the throne into appointing their own puppet generals.

“A Great Purge, then?” the Empress Dowager asked, watching her daughter.

“Yes,” Wen Qingyun replied. “I am not a patient woman. If they dare allow a village to be slaughtered today, they will dare to seize offshore islands tomorrow. I will cut the Gordian knot and wipe out this first wave of rebels.”

“And the work of soothing the other clans?”

“Do not worry, Mother. I have already communicated with the fifteen ‘sensible’ families on the list Du Xiumu gave me. With them keeping a lid on things, Jiangnan won’t descend into total chaos.”

…

January, Year 3 of Tianzhou.

It should have been a festive month, but in certain Jiangnan gentry estates, there was only the sound of wailing. “Pirates” in full Japanese regalia had stormed the estates, slaughtering every male while leaving the women (who were genuinely in the dark) alive.

This happened in over a dozen prefectures. By the end of the month, over a thousand people from elite families had been killed by “pirates.” The public’s anti-pirate sentiment reached a fever pitch. In the capital, the Emperor was “incensed,” ordering 3,000 elite soldiers from the Firearms Battalion to the coast with the latest weaponry. She also sent Jinyiwei to “protect the survivors” and “administer justice”—execution for anyone caught embezzling the victims’ property.

“Outrageous! The Emperor is going too far!” the surviving gentry cursed behind closed doors.

“How could pirates slip into the city so quietly? How did they find the targets so accurately and kill only the men? Are the garrison soldiers blind?”

“Everyone knows the Zeng family had dealings with the pirates; they would never kill their own.”

As soon as those words were uttered, the room went silent. The young man who spoke realized his mistake and shut his mouth.

“What do we do? Do we just let the Emperor kill us while the pirates take the blame? She obviously knows what we did.”

“Why don’t we just deal with the Jinyiwei investigators?”

“Fool! You want a charge of treason and the execution of nine generations?”

“Then what? The Jinyiwei are here to ‘protect the survivors,’ but we all know they’re here for the treasuries! They’re pocketing a century of our wealth.”

An elegant middle-aged man spoke up. “We won’t touch the male magistrates. We’ll stage ‘accidents’ and kill a few female magistrates. The Emperor wants women in office? We’ll make it so no woman dares to set foot in Jiangnan to govern.”

The room went quiet. Most people thought of Chu Xin—the first female Top Scholar, the Emperor’s favorite.

“Are we moving against Chu Xin? She has the Imperial Guard, the Jinyiwei, and the Mingyue Camp,” the young man whispered.

“Idiot! I said the newly appointed female magistrates! Who told you to touch Chu Xin?” the middle-aged man snapped. Killing Chu Xin would be a direct provocation of imperial power; they wouldn’t survive it.

The young man muttered, “I think we should just give up some land. Why provoke her further? She killed those families because they colluded with pirates. Won’t she just use ‘bandits’ to kill us if we kill her magistrates?”

Silence filled the hall. No one could refute his logic.

…

Wen Qingyun smiled as she read a thick stack of secret reports. Her plan was working. The “sensible” families were snitching on the ones who colluded with the pirates.

“Choumou,” she said to her confidante. “Take this secret decree to Chu Xin. Tell her to follow the instructions inside. Protect her; don’t let anything happen.”

…

In Anji, Chu Xin was thrilled to receive a secret decree. But as she read it, her excitement turned to bewilderment.

“This is what Her Majesty wants me to do?” she asked Choumou.

“Yes,” Choumou replied decisively.

The first half made sense: send 2,000 women from the Mingyue Camp to reinforce General Wang. But the second half… the Emperor wanted Chu Xin to hand-pick another 1,000 women and lead them to a specific location to “suppress bandits.”

“I am a civil official, not a general,” Chu Xin murmured. “Will you be coming with me, Commander Choumou?”

“Yes, Master Chu. I will act with you. Please, hurry and select your troops.”

Chu Xin breathed a sigh of relief. She convinced herself the Emperor was just looking for an excuse to promote her by giving her a titular military achievement. She would likely just be a figurehead while Choumou did the real work.

The women of the Mingyue Camp were ecstatic. Even after Chu Xin warned them of the dangers, the volunteers were endless. From the remaining troops, she selected 300 cavalry, 500 infantry, and 200 archers—all fully armored, well-equipped, and highly trained.