Chapter Thirteen: Discourse (III)

The court was dead silent.
Differences in background determined how people viewed issues. Most of these high-ranking officials had grown up behind towering walls, dressed in fine clothes and fed with delicacies, raised as the hope for their families’ prosperity—how could they possibly understand the lives of ordinary people or soldiers on the front lines?
In their eyes, family interests came first; anyone who threatened those interests was seen as an obstacle. They also applied Confucian ideals of benevolence and virtue to others, hoping to create an ideal world through strict adherence to classical teachings—governing with righteousness and achieving harmony under one rule. Yet countless commoners and soldiers all they desired was a full meal and a simple hut.
When war broke out, countless Han men picked up weapons and headed to the front lines without hesitation, fighting to protect their wives and children, their meager plots of land, against the barbarians. Their battle robes stained with blood, their bones buried in foreign lands—many sacrificed their lives for these humble aspirations. They might not understand what righteousness or harmony meant, nor care who was the emperor or noble lords; they only wanted to protect what they valued.
Perhaps they were once farmers tilling the land, but to defend their homes, they put down their hoes and picked up spears, trembling as they rushed to the front lines to fight the barbarians. They had only one humble wish: to end the war quickly so they could return home to their families. Could the court even crush such humble desires? After arriving at the front lines, would their officers tell them not to set ambushes or launch surprise attacks, insisting they must show the dignity befitting the great Tang dynasty?
Was flooding Jiuqu City considered brutality, and attacking the Tibetans in secret deemed unkind? Did the soldiers of Longyou have to hold out their necks for the barbarians to cut down—was that considered magnanimity, a way to uphold the Tang dynasty’s honor?
Or were they supposed to act like Duke Xiang of Song, waiting for the Tibetans to form their battle lines before launching a full attack—as a display of righteousness and generosity? (Note 1) In life, there are always those who use prescribed moral standards to demand obedience from others, all for the sake of maintaining their own precious image.
Such people were truly the scum and dregs of the Tang dynasty.

Wei Bin’s face was now completely red. Despite being provoked by such a young man, it felt as though a fish bone was stuck in his throat, preventing him from uttering a single word in retaliation. That young man had so many scars on his body. No, weren’t high-ranking generals supposed to achieve fame with just a flick of their fingers? Wasn’t fighting enemies on the battlefield as easy as chopping vegetables?

If even army commanders suffered so many injuries, what kind of dangers would the ordinary soldiers face?

Suddenly, Wei Bin felt his understanding of life over the decades become chaotic, with one question after another popping into his mind. Perhaps he was wrong? No! He definitely wasn’t wrong! How could the teachings of the ancient sages be wrong? How could the moral principles of benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and order be wrong? From childhood onward, whether it was the teachers in his household or the scholars at the imperial academy, none of them stopped talking about virtue.

“Those who excel in strategy triumph; the benevolent are invincible.” Weren’t these all things preached by the sages?

If anyone was to be blamed, it was only them for coming from humble backgrounds. Yes, it was their own lowly origins to blame. There was no reason to blame others…

After a fierce internal struggle, Wei Bin cleared his throat and said, “Hmph, Lieutenant Li really knows how to joke. As the saying goes, everyone has their own area of expertise. Asking a civil official to go to the front line—isn’t that just for entertainment?”

As soon as these words were spoken, Yang Zhao, who had been suppressing his anger, exploded, “Sir Wei, is that even human speech? Haven’t you seen the scars on Lieutenant Li’s body? And yet you still talk nonsense about benevolence and morality. Aren’t you supposed to be invincible? Why don’t you use no troops at all and just tell those Tubo barbarians to hand over Shibao City? If you can’t do that, better shut your filthy mouth.”

Yang Zhao came from a common background, which gave him a hot temper. Although he had become more restrained after entering the court with the advice of his cousins, his nature remained unchanged. Though he hadn’t read much, he valued loyalty above all. Seeing the numerous knife wounds on Li Kuo’s body, he felt both sorrow and deep admiration for this young man. He had thought Wei Bin would back down and apologize in front of him. But instead, it seemed Wei Bin had no real understanding, unable even to distinguish right from wrong.

These aristocratic officials were truly rotten to the core!

Wei Bin’s face turned pig liver red as he trembled, pointing at Yang Guozhong. As a descendant of the prestigious Wei family, though not an heir, he was still a well-educated elite. How dare this common scoundrel, Yang Zhao, speak arrogantly in the palace and be rude to him?

Really… truly…

Li Kuo frowned and whispered to Yang Zhao, “Lord Yang, be cautious with your words in the presence of the emperor.”
Yang Zhao, momentarily flustered, realized after Li Kuo’s reminder that they were in the Hanyuan Hall, where meritorious soldiers were being rewarded. With a cold snort, he stepped back to his position, leaving Wei Bin standing alone.
Behind the imperial desk, Emperor Li Longji was equally puzzled—how could the grand assembly in the Hanyuan Hall end up as chaotic as a marketplace? A censor and a secretary supervisor arguing and scolding each other like common villagers—what kind of decency was this?
“Your Majesty, in my humble opinion, rewarding Captain Li is inappropriate.”
Just as Li Longji was troubled, Li Linfu, the Right Chancellor of the Tang Dynasty who had remained silent until then, suddenly spoke up loudly.
“Oh? What wise advice do you have, Right Chancellor?”
Li Longji was surprised. Weren’t Wei Bin and Zheng Yun his own people? Why was he now speaking up in Li Kuo’s defense?
“I believe Captain Li has devised ingenious strategies many times, helping General Gao capture Jiuku City and playing a crucial role in taking Shibao City. His contributions cannot be ignored!”
Holding his tablet, Li Linfu spoke calmly and steadily, without any trace of emotion in his voice.
“As for the moral issue debated by Lord Yang and Lord Wei earlier, I think there is no contradiction. What Lord Wei mentioned are the teachings of the sages, while Captain Li adheres to practical military tactics. Since they operate in different contexts, there is no right or wrong. Therefore, from Captain Li’s perspective, there is nothing wrong with flooding Jiuku City.”
In the Hanyuan Hall, the reply from the Tang Chancellor carried great weight. Even Li Kuo frowned—why was he helping him? Was it merely to appear magnanimous?…
Note 1: In 638 BC, the states of Song and Chu fought near the Hong River for dominance over the Central Plains. At the start of the battle, the situation favored the Song army. However, Duke Xiang of Song clung to outdated principles of chivalry, such as “not taking advantage of others in distress,” and refused to accept Zi Yu’s sound advice, thus missing the opportunity to win and suffering a crushing defeat.