While a silent war was being waged in the remote mountains of Sichuan, a very different kind of battle was reaching its climax in the bustling provincial capital of Henan. The main courtroom of the governor's yamen, a grand hall with high ceilings and imposing pillars of red lacquer, was filled with the local gentry and officials. They had been summoned for what they believed was a routine court session to hear petitions and resolve minor disputes. They had no idea they were about to witness a political execution.
Provincial Treasurer Ma sat in a place of high honor near the magistrate's bench. He was a man of immense local power, his wealth legendary, his network of connections stretching all the way to the capital. He had been the most vocal and effective opponent of the new regency's economic reforms, rallying the local salt merchants and iron masters to resist the edict of centralization. He felt secure, untouchable, a king in his own prosperous domain. He greeted his allies among the assembled gentry with a confident, condescending smile.
The session was called to order. But instead of a petitioner, a figure strode to the center of the courtroom. It was an Imperial Censor from the capital, a man named Chen, famous throughout the empire for his rigid integrity and his fearsome, unyielding gaze. He was flanked by two grim-faced men whose dark robes marked them as agents of the Imperial Household Department—Li Lianying's men, now serving a new master.
Treasurer Ma's confident smile faltered slightly. The presence of an Imperial Censor was unusual, but not unheard of. He assumed it was a routine inspection.
The Censor unrolled a scroll and, in a voice that was clear, cold, and utterly devoid of deference, began to read. "By the authority of the Joint Regency and in the name of the Emperor, this Censorate hereby brings a formal accusation against Provincial Treasurer Ma of Henan, for the crimes of corruption, embezzlement of state funds, and the willful obstruction of an Imperial Edict."
A wave of shocked murmurs swept through the courtroom. Treasurer Ma leaped to his feet, his face turning a blotchy red. "This is outrageous! Baseless slander!" he shouted, his voice booming with the arrogance of a man accustomed to being obeyed. "This is a political attack by my enemies in the capital! I demand to see your proof!"
"The proof will be provided," the Censor said calmly. He then proceeded to dismantle the Treasurer's life, piece by damning piece. It was a show trial, but one where every piece of evidence was brutally, undeniably true.
"First, I call the merchant Wang," the Censor announced.
A nervous, sweating grain merchant was brought forward. Under the Censor's sharp questioning, and the terrifying gaze of Li Lianying's agents, Wang testified that he had been forced to pay tens of thousands of taels in bribes to Treasurer Ma over the past decade to secure contracts for transporting tribute grain to the capital.
Next, the Censor produced a set of account ledgers. "These," he announced to the silent courtroom, "are the Treasurer's own secret account books, seized in a raid on his private residence this morning." He opened one. "They detail a network of bribery and extortion that has siphoned a fortune from the public coffers."
He read out specific entries, his voice a relentless monotone. A bribe from a magistrate seeking a promotion. A kickback from a military supplier providing substandard goods. A massive, illegal tariff levied on river trade. Each entry was a nail being hammered into Ma's political coffin.
Treasurer Ma was now screaming, protesting his innocence, claiming the ledgers were forgeries. But the Censor was not finished. He motioned to the rear of the courtroom.
Two aides entered, carrying a massive, beautifully rendered architectural drawing. They unrolled it for all to see. It was the plan for Treasurer Ma's lavish, newly constructed private estate on the outskirts of the city, a sprawling complex of gardens, pavilions, and even a private opera stage.
"A humble public servant's home," the Censor said, his voice dripping with irony. He then produced another document: a detailed, audited account of the estate's construction costs, compiled by Shen Ke's analysts in Beijing. "The cost of this mansion and its furnishings exceeds five hundred thousand taels of silver. A remarkable sum for a man whose official salary is but three thousand taels a year." He paused, then delivered the final, devastating blow. "It is also, coincidentally, almost the exact amount of silver that has gone missing from the provincial salt monopoly's revenues over the past five years."
The evidence was absolute. The local gentry and officials, the very men who had supported Treasurer Ma's resistance to the reforms, now stared at him in horror and disgust. They had believed he was a brave defender of their local rights and privileges. They saw now that he was nothing more than a common, greedy thief who had been stealing from them all along. Their support for him, the foundation of his power, evaporated in an instant.
As Treasurer Ma stood there, sputtering and speechless, the great doors of the courtroom were thrown open with a crash. A full company of Manchu Bannermen, their armor polished and their faces grim, marched into the hall in perfect formation. They were not local guards who could be bribed or intimidated. Their banners identified them as an elite unit from the capital, dispatched by Prince Gong. They were the enforcers of the central government's will.
The Censor pointed a long, steady finger at the trembling Treasurer. "In the name of the Emperor, I find you guilty. You are hereby stripped of your rank and titles. Your assets and estates are forfeit to the throne."
He then nodded to the captain of the Bannermen. "Arrest this man."
The soldiers moved forward. They seized the once-powerful Treasurer Ma, pulling his arms behind his back and binding them with heavy iron chains. He was no longer a high official; he was a common criminal. The public humiliation was complete.
As he was being dragged from the courtroom, his face a mask of disbelief and terror, the Censor made one final announcement.
"By special decree of the new Regency," he called out, his voice ringing through the silent hall, "all funds and properties seized from the traitor Ma will not be returned to the capital's treasury. They will be placed in a special Imperial Famine Relief Fund, to be administered by this Censorate, for the benefit of the people of Henan province."
The message was delivered with the force of a thunderclap. It was a message to every official in every province. Resistance to the new order will not be tolerated. No one is untouchable. And the new regime is not just about seizing power; it is about delivering justice. The fall of the treasurer was not just a punishment; it was a promise.