Chapter 2173 - Director of the Lianzhou Region
"The Luopang Yao of Luoding were indeed the dominant force behind Guangdong's Yao disturbances historically," Huang Chao said after a moment's consideration, "but they no longer constitute a significant threat."
"Oh? Elaborate."
"Luoding Prefecture—the region around present-day Yu'nan County, specifically the Luopang Mountains—was once the primary battlefield for Two Guangs Yao uprisings. Historically, they rebounded persistently after each pacification campaign. However, in the early Wanli years, Yin Zhengmao and Ling Yunyi's Ming forces crushed the Luopang Yao decisively. After decades of 'recruiting settlers to register and cultivate' policies, local Yao power has diminished drastically."
The Luopang Mountains of Yu'nan County connected the East Mountains, West Mountains, and Longshui's rear mountains, stretching seven hundred li. They bordered Xinxing to the east, Yangchun to the south, Guangxi's Yulin and Cenxi to the west, and extended north to the Yangtze River region. Thousands of interconnected peaks harbored Yao and Zhuang communities. For centuries, though government forces suppressed them repeatedly, they rose again shortly after each defeat. From mid-Ming onward, waves of bankrupt peasants fled into these mountains, forming settlements and merging with native Yao populations. Contemporary accounts described them as "gathering fugitives from all directions to aid their cruelty, called 'Lang bandits,' plundering in all directions."
"After the Ming concluded its encirclement campaigns in the fifth year of Wanli, they settled large numbers of refugees from elsewhere to cultivate land in Luoding Prefecture. In terms of population and village ratios in the mountainous areas, the Yao no longer hold numerical advantage. Though the Assistant Regional Commander for Defense of Yao East and West Mountains has withdrawn, and some Yao villages might harbor rebellious thoughts, judging from current conditions, only a small fraction of Luoding Yao would actually rise in revolt. The real concern is opportunistic banditry exploiting the chaos."
"So you're recommending against preemptive strikes?"
"Precisely." Huang Chao nodded. "First, the Luoding Yao no longer pose a major threat. Their population is minimal, productivity low. Even if they riot, the National Army coordinating with local militia can suppress them. Proactive attacks might instead unite them through fear. Besides, after several Ming encirclement campaigns, Luopang Yao stockades are now almost entirely deep in the mountains, in rarely-visited terrain. Given their consistent patterns, they won't engage a large army directly. It's all mountain guerrilla tactics. Such a campaign would inevitably devolve into a protracted security war—wasted effort and troops."
Bei Wei nodded noncommittally. "What else?"
Huang Chao thought wryly, Is this a civil service examination? Fortunately, he'd researched this extensively and felt reasonably confident.
"We need a comprehensive strategy for dealing with the Yao. Large Yao populations are distributed throughout the Two Guangs. Open the historical records—you'll see dynasty after dynasty suppressed the Yao repeatedly, even resorting to massacres. Blood feuds exist between both sides, compounded by various economic factors—these are the root causes of persistent Yao rebellions. Our policy toward the Yao should parallel our Li people approach on Hainan Island: primarily economic and political initiatives, with military force as auxiliary support."
Bei Wei laughed. "It seems everyone's thinking aligns."
Emboldened by this affirmation, Huang Chao continued:
"By late Ming, Guangdong's Yao had been essentially pacified. The Eight Row Yao rebellion at dynasty's end would never have grown large-scale were it not for the confluence of refugee uprisings and Ming fiscal collapse. Our arrival has disrupted this equilibrium. The Luoding Yao undoubtedly have ideas, but currently they're weak and isolated, so they can only observe and wait. We simply need to maintain close surveillance and appropriate military pressure. However, if we allow the Lianyang area Yao rebellion to expand, it will definitely arouse rebellious and vengeful thoughts among the Luoding Yao. If the Lianyang Yao move south and link up with areas north of the West River, the Luopang Mountains Yao will certainly rise in response. We cannot let the Yao develop excessive confidence in rebellion. Therefore, I believe our primary task is first quelling the Lianyang area Yao uprising."
Huang Chao's insights didn't actually surpass what had been discussed at the South China Army's North Guangdong Operations Meeting recently. But Huang Chao would be presiding over frontline administration in Lianyang—"unifying thinking" with the military was crucial.
He paused. Seeing Bei Wei still "listening attentively," he grew more enthusiastic: "For this Lianyang Yao uprising, our strategy should proceed through phases: fight first, then divide, finally pacify. I'm simply not sufficiently familiar with current Lianzhou conditions to discuss specific tactical details."
"Director Huang, among Lianyang's three cities, we control only Yangshan County—and strictly speaking, even Yangshan isn't under our control, but defended by incorporated local Ming troops and commoners. Yangshan county seat is currently occupied by Yao forces. Lianzhou City presents a special case: the Lianzhou Subprefectural Magistrate appointed by the Great Ming, Cui Shizhao, refuses to surrender to us but continues resisting stubbornly. He's currently under heavy siege by the Eight Row Yao."
"This Cui Shizhao is highly capable with a reputation for integrity. He has his own governance methods. The common people willingly risk their lives for him. If we can win him over, he'd be invaluable assistance," Huang Chao observed.
"That consideration will fall to you," Bei Wei smiled. "Currently, the Eight Row Yao's main force surrounds Lianzhou City. Over a thousand strong, armed mostly with machetes and poisoned crossbows, with a smattering of matchlocks. The garrison strength inside the city is unknown—probably mostly civilian militia. The Yao militia lack armor and firearms, so they probably can't capture it quickly. Once our Sui River Detachment arrives, the battle's outcome is foregone. The subsequent problems, however, will depend on you to resolve."
"Rest assured!" Huang Chao knew this assignment carried substantial risk, but the potential for merit was equally substantial. "I will definitely pacify Lianzhou!"
"The Administration Council has already assembled your cadre team; they'll depart with you. Considering the complex post-arrival situation in Lianzhou, the National Army command under you will be somewhat larger: one battalion for Lianzhou, two companies each for Lianshan and Yangshan."
Huang Chao seized the moment: "I have a small request."
"What?"
"Could you assign me a Li-Miao Mountain Infantry Company? The Lianyang area is predominantly mountainous."
"That's no small request." Bei Wei smiled. "Li-Miao Mountain Companies are hot commodities right now. Of our current three companies, one's already been sent to Shaoguan. I have only two on hand, and West Guangdong's situation is equally complex—here's what I'll do: I'll give you one company, but I might recall them at any time."
"Perfect, thank you, no problem."
He ventured further. "If possible, I'd also like the Navy to assign me two small gunboats. The draft must be shallow enough..."
"No problem, the South China Army Command will coordinate with the Navy," Bei Wei said. "The Army will also assign you six 12-pounder mountain howitzers, and in addition to the gunners, twelve NCO trainees from the artillery training class."
"All personnel check weapons!" Li Dong shouted at the formation.
As a unit that had proven its worth, the Wuzhou Composite Company had exchanged all their equipment for Nanyang-style rifles this time. The soldiers were delighted—after all, spears were not only unsatisfying to wield but looked embarrassingly shabby compared to friendly units fully equipped with firearms.
Regarding the firearms exchange, Li Dong harbored private reservations. The company's soldiers had indeed always envied the Nanyang rifles, but the timing felt problematic. The veterans had fought their way here with spears. Without veterans fighting desperately in the vanguard, demonstrating combat effectiveness and courage, the Senate would never have issued Nanyang rifles to the Composite Company. Now green recruits who hadn't fought a single battle wielded rifles. This created psychological imbalance among veterans, who inevitably administered "strict instruction" to the recruits.
Li Dong turned a blind eye to such behavior, provided it didn't escalate excessively—it was inevitable in any company. However, he dimly perceived that the Senate's attitude toward the newly-established National Army was obviously "probationary": they questioned its combat effectiveness and lacked confidence in its loyalty.
He never voiced this observation before the soldiers. Occasionally when soldiers muttered about it, he would reprimand them "not to let imaginations run wild," explaining it as "insufficient production capacity." Yet deep down, he didn't quite believe this official explanation. In his experience, the Senate's supplies were invariably abundant to a luxurious degree; claiming supply difficulties for a few rifles was transparently questionable.
Thoughts were thoughts, but outwardly he remained as "unquestioning" as ever, busily managing daily preparations for the advance.
The soldiers didn't know the specific advance target. Li Dong knew only a place name—he simply had no idea where Lianzhou was. As for Yao people, he'd heard of them but never encountered them. He had seen many Li people and fought with them; he didn't consider them particularly formidable combatants, so presumably these Yao people wouldn't be terribly threatening either.
During the unit's reorganization downtime, Li Dong ordered the entire company to intensify training and prepare for combat.
Those who've served long have a saying: Fear not the battlefield, fear the training. On the battlefield, life or death comes swiftly. But training drags from dawn to dusk, endlessly. Not only exhausting unto death, but accompanied by sergeants cursing down to one's ancestors.
"Damn it, let's get to the battlefield already. This is killing me..." many muttered.
But there were also those who, though tortured half to death by drilling, felt profoundly depressed at the prospect of frontline deployment and wished they could train here forever.
Ai Buyi was one such soldier. Before conscription, he'd been an ordinary military household member who'd never seen battle. By nature taciturn, while everyone else celebrated receiving rifles, Ai Buyi felt only confusion—but dared not express it for fear of the military stick. It seemed only he failed to understand what there was to celebrate. Wasn't it just going out to fight again soon? Weren't they afraid of death?
In theory, he was born a "soldier," but in reality, he'd wielded a hoe all his life. Far from fighting, he'd barely attended roll call. When his superior surrendered to the Great Song, he surrendered too. Originally, he'd assumed that whether Great Song or Great Ming, someone always had to farm the land. Unexpectedly, during inspection, the Great Song official saw that he was short and sturdy, with a dull, simple expression and a clean family background—perfectly fitting the troop recruitment philosophy of Qi Jiguang and Zeng Guofan—so he was incorporated into the National Army.