Chapter 117: The Barbarian from The Hague’s Token of Allegiance

Liu Yi patted Hua Yun on the shoulder and said, “General Hua, if anything happens on my side in the future, I hope you’ll remember the bond we share today and lend a hand to your brother.”

Hua Yun’s blood boiled with fervor. “Rest assured, Judge Liu, I, Hua Yun, am no ungrateful man!”

This was precisely why, despite the constant power struggles between Liu Yi and Zhu Yuanzhang, everyone in the Left Camp wished for the Red Turbans of Chuzhou to remain united.

Although Liu Yi never gave his full strength, whenever he did, it brought monumental change. Liu Yi had already issued orders: “Let’s go support our brothers in the Left Camp. Inform Deputy Magistrate Manzi; I’m handing Zhenjiang over to him now!”

Hua Yun gasped sharply. “Deputy Magistrate Manzi? Can this man be trusted?”

Hua Yun knew well that this Deputy Magistrate of the Mongol Yuan Southern Inspectorate, though captured, still wore the Yuan official uniform and flew their banner, pledging unwavering loyalty to the Great Yuan. How could Liu Yi possibly hand over Zhenjiang to him?

But Liu Yi was resolute. “With Deputy Magistrate Manzi holding the fort, I can rest easy. General Hua, I’ll go with you to aid our brothers!”

At Liu Yi’s command, the Zhenjiang Military Headquarters promptly mobilized two thousand naval and two thousand land troops, surging eastward toward Changzhou.

Though not all forces were deployed—less than seventy percent even—the mere presence of Liu Yi leading them under the banner “Liu Yi, Judge of the Southern Military Headquarters” infused the Zhenjiang troops with unstoppable momentum. The retreating Tang forces found renewed purpose, rapidly regrouping and launching sharp counterattacks. Even the local warlords of Changzhou grew unsettled.

Despite Zhang Shide and Chen Erbao’s remarks that “Zhu Yuanzhang can’t even tolerate the Chaohu Navy that once fought alongside him,” the stance between Liu Yi and the Chaohu Navy seemed far from irreconcilable. Should Zhu Yuanzhang and the Chaohu Navy truly unite, the fate of Changzhou Road would remain uncertain.

The one most deeply moved was Deputy Magistrate Manzi Haiya, who now felt as if he were being grilled over a fire by Liu Yi.

“Madam Guo, it is a shame that the Dragon-Phoenix Court has relegated your husband to merely a judge. Surely he deserves a deputy or at least an assistant magistrate position.”

Perhaps hardened by a year of countless farewells and losses, Guo Yunyu had grown into a capable young wife, always considering matters from the perspective of her small household.

“Though I wish for my husband’s steady rise, this is the court’s arrangement, so I must abide by it. Besides, this is ultimately in the best interest of Deputy Magistrate Manzi.”

Her words bore a hint of sarcasm. On the surface, Liu Yi had entrusted the entire city of Zhenjiang to Deputy Magistrate Manzi of the Great Yuan, and many of Manzi’s old followers remained within the city. But in reality, Manzi’s presence was merely nominal.

If Liu Yi hadn’t kept Manzi under close watch, he might have conspired with his old comrades to mount a significant action. Yet with Liu Yi’s declaration handing Zhenjiang over to him, Manzi had no choice but to obediently safeguard this legacy.

“Madam Guo, please don’t mock me. The entire city watches my every move, seeking faults. Even if I had designs, this is not the time.”

Guo Yunyu knew well that despite the façade of entrusting Zhenjiang to Deputy Magistrate Manzi, she, as the lady of the household, truly held the reins. Though Manzi was a Great Yuan inspector, if he dared plot, Guo Yunyu could easily deal with him.

Manzi felt himself sinking deeper—no longer just a defector but a bona fide bandit leader. To prevent further decline, he needed to prove his worth to both Liu Yi and the court.

“Madam Guo, Liu Yi has long intended to take Songjiang Prefecture. But I have a question: after seizing Songjiang, which lies hundreds of miles from Jiangyin, who will govern it? It must be someone Liu Yi trusts implicitly!”

Songjiang Prefecture was, in any era, the crown jewel of all lands—gold flowing at one’s fingertips. Yet, for the Zhenjiang Military Headquarters to cross the wide river and capture it would be an immense feat; consolidating control even more so.

Overextension and unwieldy command plagued every regime. Even if the Chaohu Navy held Jiangyin, the several hundred miles to Songjiang remained a vast expanse. The governor there would need to be Liu Yi’s most trusted general—but such a distance inevitably bred communication issues.

Guo Yunyu found the matter increasingly intriguing. “Deputy Magistrate, Songjiang’s capture is still a future matter. Why the rush to seek governorship?”

Manzi replied earnestly, “I must inform you early. My status prevents me from officially becoming governor, but with a general commander appointed for Songjiang, someone must check his power. I believe no one is better suited than me.”

Governorship—Darugachi in Mongol terms—was truly the highest authority, reserved for Mongols or high-ranking Semu officials. Though the rebel armies had nominally abolished the Darugachi, they created the “General Commander,” wielding combined military and civil authority, essentially the same role.

The Songjiang General Commander would hold immense power; given the distance, unchecked authority could breed lawlessness. Neither Liu Yi nor Guo Yunyu had yet chosen a candidate, making Manzi’s self-appointment to share power unexpected.

For Guo Yunyu, this was a blessing. “But the matter of capturing Songjiang can only arise after taking Changzhou and Jiangyin. Deputy Magistrate, there’s no need to be so hasty.”

Manzi, however, laid his cards on the table: “Madam Guo, capturing Songjiang will be my pledge of loyalty.”