Chapter 50: By What Right

"You can do it too. Your father has unified the realm, and when you become emperor in the future, strive to conquer all the countries that refuse to obey. Whether it's Tubo, Goguryeo, or even farther lands like the Abbasid Caliphate—all of them. The Turks are out of the question; your father won't let them escape."

"Can I really do that?" Li Chengqian stared in disbelief. Everyone around him had always told him to be a virtuous, benevolent ruler, close to the people, so that one day he could inherit his father's throne. Yet Cai Cong was telling him to subdue all the disobedient nations by force—this was entirely different from what his teachers said about ruling with virtue and winning the allegiance of all under heaven.

"Why not? Those who obey need not be fought, but those who don't, who constantly seek to bully us, must be dealt with. That's exactly what your father does," Cai Cong replied with certainty. If the Great Tang could pass on its legacy smoothly, that would be ideal; otherwise, the bloody storms of a decade later would drown them all.

"How can I become as powerful as my imperial father?"

"Read more, read good books, and read with diligence. Don't neglect your archery, horsemanship, sword, and spear—just like your father, who is both wise and mighty. The future of a youthful Tang will rest on your shoulders," Cai Cong answered casually. An eight-year-old was easy to coax; with just these few words, Li Chengqian was so excited, as if he'd obtained some secret manual.

"By the way, could you tell me where the Left Guard is?" Cai Cong couldn’t fathom what charm his words possessed to make Li Chengqian so lost in daydreams that he grinned from ear to ear.

"I know that place well—let me take you," Li Chengqian volunteered proudly, leading the way.

"You’re a true friend! Come to my house sometime, and I’ll treat you to a great meal," Cai Cong said cheerfully. This kid really was easy to please. Li Chengqian secretly chuckled to himself, thinking, "Mother was right—smart people always treat others as fools. This fellow is certainly easy to amuse."

It was fortunate neither of them knew what the other was thinking, or they might have come to blows. The garrison was actually right next to the Left Martial Guard. Except for those on duty, the rest of the troops were stationed in the barracks outside the city.

Naturally, Li Chengqian couldn’t leave the palace, so Cai Cong led his people out of the city. Meng Baolai and his thirty men had all been dismissed from the Left Martial Guard and had become Cai Cong’s personal guards instead—a decision they’d made themselves, as serving as Cai Cong’s bodyguards offered more prospects than being ordinary soldiers.

The barracks lay near the Wei River. A few soldiers on duty lounged lazily by the gate, chatting idly. Within, others brawled, gambled, told lewd jokes—seasoned old hands, every one of them.

When the carriage arrived at the camp, the soldiers dragged themselves forward to stop it, checked the documents, and, after a languid salute, let them pass.

Cai Cong stepped down from the carriage with an air of nonchalance and walked into the barracks. Meng Baolai frowned deeply. With men like these, if they dared to stand before the Xuanjia Army in three months, that would already be courageous—let alone hope to defeat them.

"New here, brother? Come, let’s have a drink—my treat," a drunken officer, bottle in hand, appeared from nowhere, draping an arm over Meng Baolai’s shoulder, eyes bleary.

"Get lost."

Meng Baolai could hardly be expected to treat him kindly; he shoved the man aside—restraining himself from a beating was already an act of mercy. His booming voice drew everyone’s attention.

"What are you looking at? The new Left Guard Commander, Lord Cai, has arrived. All of you, line up for inspection!" Meng Baolai shouted. The whole camp burst into laughter, and then each went about his business, ignoring them entirely.

"Outrageous! This is outrageous! These men have no respect for discipline—the leaders of every squad should be executed!" Meng Baolai was hopping mad, furious at their insolence.

"Heh… Well, Lord Cai is just here to pad his résumé, and we’re here to coast along. Isn’t it better if we all just play our parts?" the drunken man laughed carelessly, utterly unafraid.

"So that’s how it is. You could have said so earlier," Cai Cong replied with a smile that suggested he really was here to idle away his days. The drunk's eyes flashed with contempt, but at that moment Cai Cong suddenly roared, "Meng Baolai, string him up at the main gate! Beat the drum to assemble the troops—anyone not present when the drum stops will be executed!"

At Cai Cong’s command, Meng Baolai pounced like a starving tiger, seized the drunk, tied him up, and hung him at the gate. The old hand began to beat the great drum, and the assembly call rang out. Ah Jie and the guards surrounded Cai Cong on the platform.

Everyone watched in anger, but none dared act. The drumbeats grew faster and more oppressive. Ah Jie drew the executioner’s blade, slowly polishing it, his cold gaze lingering on their necks—an indifference to life that sent chills through the crowd.

At last, the drum went silent. No one moved; all eyes fixed intently on Cai Cong.

"No one answered the roll call, and I can’t kill you all—what a headache for your commander!" Cai Cong said with mock frustration. As the men below began to snicker, he suddenly glared and roared, "All officers above squad leader—execute them!"

"Yes, sir!" Meng Baolai and his men responded in unison.

"What are you doing? They didn’t answer muster, but it wasn’t my idea! If you have the guts, execute us all!" the captured officer shouted, and others crowded around, preventing them from taking the men away. There was shoving, but no one dared to actually start a fight.

"You think the law won’t be enforced if you’re many? I won’t punish the masses, but you officers are out of luck—time to die! After you’re executed, I’ll beat the drum again. Anyone who doesn’t answer then, I’ll start executing the oldest among you!"

"You nobles always treat lives like playthings, don’t you?" the seized squad leader trembled with rage, forcing the words through gritted teeth.

"The barracks are no place for games. Military orders are ironclad. Since you refuse to obey, execution is only fitting. But, since this is your first offense, I’ll give you one chance—tell me, why is there not a shred of masculine spirit in this camp? Why is it riddled with laziness and disorder?"

Cai Cong sneered at the crowd, each face sullen and bitter—many of them the sons of officials, sent to the Left Guard to seek advancement, never expecting to become a child’s playthings.

"We joined the army to earn merit on the battlefield, not to be playthings for the likes of you!" someone shouted, though none dared step forward.

"Exactly! We want to make something of ourselves—can you give us that?"

"That’s right! That’s right…" One voice sparked a chorus; the racket was deafening. "Shut your mouths! The lord has something to say!" Meng Baolai’s voice thundered, silencing the crowd.

"You’ve all said enough. Frankly, I don’t care—after all, you’re just common soldiers," Cai Cong said with contempt, surveying the angry faces below.

"But I did hear one thing—someone asked if I could help you make something of yourselves. Well then, tell me: what skills do you possess to distinguish yourselves? Is it your anger?"

"We’re brave and fearless! On the battlefield, we might win merit. What right do you have to judge us?"

"Because I am a count. I’m not one of those pampered nobles—I earned my title with my life. And you’re just nobodies, barely able to feed yourselves, living ten, twenty years without ever amounting to anything."

Cai Cong’s voice rang out even louder. The men below looked astonished. Had he really earned his status with his life?

"Don’t look so surprised. My identity cannot be revealed now, but you’ll know eventually. I’ll tell you this: under my command, you’ll suffer more than anyone, because I’ll forge you into the greatest soldiers of the Tang, the mightiest in the world—a painful process.

Just now, in front of the entire imperial court and His Majesty, I vowed that in three months, you’d defeat the Xuanjia Army and become the Tang’s top force. But seeing you all whining and blaming the world, I think I’ll request a new batch from His Majesty. As for you lot—go back to wherever you came from!"

"We’re not… useless!"

The officer strung up at the gate shouted with all his strength, pain contorting his features, but the anguish in his heart was far worse. He hadn’t even been drinking—his supposed drunkenness was simply from having spilled wine on himself.