Therefore, Huangfu Song could not be the choice for General Of Northern Territories.

As soon as Liu Hong spoke, he noticed that Qiao Yan’s face showed no sign of disappointment at having her suggestion rejected.

Instead, a hint of joy flickered across her expression.

Her usual sharpness was at play, which wasn’t surprising considering how she had reacted during her last audience with the emperor.

Clearly, she had realized that while Liu Hong had said Huangfu Song was unsuitable for General Du Liao, he had not outright rejected her suggestion.

Without losing heart, she continued, “The position of General of Northern Territories requires bravery, military prowess, and the ability to command troops to confront the northern barbarians. General Huangfu’s previously held this position, and General Huangfu himself possesses these qualities, hence my suggestion.”

“But if Your Majesty deems it inappropriate to assign them to this position, what about Sun Jian, Sun Wentai?” Qiao Yan continued. “His loyalty and courage, demonstrated fully in quelling the Yellow Turban Rebellion, qualify him well for the role of General of the North.”

“He’s also not suitable,” Liu Hong responded decisively. “While he achieved minor victories in the battles in Liangzhou, there were major shortcomings as well.

However, he is indeed a capable individual.

Currently, he serves as the Administrator of Changsha after being transferred there.

With rebels causing trouble in Lingling and the proximity of Changsha, Lingling, and Guiyang, I intend to have him lead the forces from Changsha to suppress the rebellion. It would not be appropriate to move him elsewhere.”

Qiao Yan thought for a moment before asking, “Then what about Cao Cao, Cao Mengde?”

“I’ve heard that during his tenure as the Chancellor of Jibei, he maintained a strict and upright governance.

After returning home, he has been idle. During the Yellow Turban Rebellion, he served as a Cavalry Commandant and contributed to the discipline of the army.

While his martial prowess may not match that of Fu Nangong or Sun Wentai, he has shown competence in military affairs and could also handle such a significant responsibility.”

Liu Hong neither affirmed nor rejected this suggestion, remaining silent for a moment before asking slowly, “Why do you recommend him?”

“Are all these recommendations based on personal relationships forged during the Yellow Turban Rebellion?”

This remark carried a hint of rebuke towards nepotism.

If it were anyone else in front of Liu Hong, they might have felt uneasy by now.

However, Qiao Yan calmly responded, “Recommendations must be based on knowledge of talent and character.

Only then can one dare to propose them before Your Majesty.

Otherwise, recommending someone solely based on reputation would only lead to undeserved positions.

I deeply respect Your Majesty’s trust and would not act otherwise.”

Upon hearing her reply, Liu Hong remained silent for a while.

Truth be told, a few years ago, if she had taken such bold actions, he would have had her imprisoned or stripped her of her title as Marquis of Leping at the very least, ensuring she couldn’t comfortably discuss matters like the appointment of General of Northern Territories with him.

But times had changed.

Just as he had to reintroduce the system of regional governors to address the current situations across the realm, he could afford some exceptions now.

Especially as he felt increasingly fatigued and Liu Bian, the prince supported by the He family, didn’t quite meet his expectations, he knew he needed some extraordinary advisors.

Qiao Yan’s response at this moment undoubtedly pleased him.

The candidates she mentioned were based on their suitability rather than their social standing in Luoyang.

Yet, Cao Cao as a candidate was also deemed impractical by him.

He too belonged in a special position.

Years ago, Liu Hong had intended to establish a personal army under his command.

When rebels in Lingling had risen under the banner of “General of Heaven,” it had greatly angered him.

Fortunately, Zhang Rang understood his intentions well.

He proposed that since the rebels called themselves “Generals,” why not proclaim himself as the “Supreme General” to assert authority over these insurgents.

Liu Hong knew it sounded somewhat naive, but he couldn’t deny that this idea reignited his ambition to establish the Western Garden Eight Schools.

With such a force at his disposal, he could rely less on the He family for certain matters, and when necessary, entrust this army to his trusted men as support during the heir-apparent’s ascension.

The conditions were ripe now for establishing this army.

The funds accumulated from selling titles and positions could not only satisfy his personal pleasures but also

…use military funds.

To be precise, funds for cultivating a private army for the Emperor.

The only missing piece, considering Cao Song’s intention to donate money for a position as Grand Commandant, along with Zhao Zhong’s suggestion to sell the Marquis of Guannei title, should be sufficient.

Now, the only issue is how to proceed with this matter without arousing suspicions from others.

The Emperor’s private army should remain just that—private to the Emperor and not a place where anyone can meddle.

He might consider including Cao Cao, a loyal and upright minister, due to Cao Song’s donation, but he cannot allow the aristocratic families or He Jin’s butchers to intervene.

With these thoughts in mind, his gaze softened slightly as he looked at Qiao Yan.

Her arrival in the capital likely presented him with a very special opportunity.

Could it be possible to select the Colonel of the Western Garden Army from among those rejected for the position of General of Northern Territories?

Liu Hong lightly tapped his fingertips on the desk where the reports were spread out.

Qiao Yan had come prepared, not just with her letter of apology, reports, and petitions but also with something else—a painting left by the Xiu Tu people on the walls after the slaughter in Guyang.

Initially meant to demonstrate the brutality of the Xiu Tu, at this moment, Liu Hong saw another layer of meaning.

The rubbing was not very clear, appearing more like people peering into a cauldron, yet in that instant, he felt it symbolized his current situation.

From the days of being the Marquis of Jiedu to ascending to the throne, he had consolidated power using harsh officials and eunuchs.

But driven by the mindset of the common people, he still believed that only when decisive power was firmly in his hands could he relax.

Otherwise, the aristocrats, relatives, and uprising forces from all over seemed like enemies eager to carve a piece of flesh from him.

Therefore, even in selecting a private army, he had to be cautious.

Unaware that his prolonged gaze at the rubbing and the emotions in his expression revealed a hint of empathy, Qiao Yan caught a glimpse of his thoughts.

He casually remarked afterwards, “Let me consider this matter. Cao Mengde might not be suitable for this position. Perhaps we can pick someone from the military. You may go for now.”

Seeing Qiao Yan prepare to leave after hearing this, he called out, “Wait.”

Liu Hong couldn’t help but furrow his brow.

God almost forgot something important.

Qiao Yeshu claimed to come to confess, but they couldn’t let her off with just a few words.

If they did, everyone would start behaving like her in the future.

Last time she was confined for two years.

This time, the trouble was even greater, but the previous punishment wouldn’t fit.

Now, incidents were frequent around them, especially some rebels who lacked ability were copying others.

Three years after the Yellow Turban Rebellion, they were raising that flag again.

Though Qiao Yan’s debate with Zhang Jiao had reduced their numbers, their rhetoric still incited easily.

If they confined her now, it might provoke them further, or in a special situation, they might need her help.

But she must be disciplined.

“Go to the Ministry of Personnel, deliver my decree. Stay in the capital and learn from the Minister of Personnel,” Liu Hong said sternly. “If you overstep again, don’t think I won’t punish you.”

Qiao Yan bowed and agreed, but a hint of concern flickered in her eyes.

Something wasn’t right…

Liu Hong’s reaction was different from what she expected.

Proposing to reinstate the position of General of Northern Territories within Bingzhou was a strategy she had discussed with Guo Jia—a strategic retreat.

But it didn’t mean she could escape punishment for moving troops without permission.

Including what she had discussed with Cheng Li before leaving Leping, she had to be cautious in Luoyang.

But now, it seemed Liu Hong was somewhat lenient.

Unless—her suggestion to establish the position of General of Northern Territories happened to fit into his plans.

During the fourth year of Zhongping, or perhaps from the fourth to the sixth year when Liu Hong passed away, what major event aligned with this?

Qiao Yan pondered, but only nodded obediently when lifted her head, escorted out by Zhang Rang.

Later, she was “escorted” to the Ministry of Personnel by the forbidden troops Liu Hong had sent.

The current Minister of Personnel was an acquaintance she had met during the Yellow Turban Rebellion.

After suppressing the rebellion around Qiantang, he was summoned back to Luoyang by Liu Hong.

Perhaps to prevent him from gaining too much military power again,

Liu Hong decisively appointed someone to the position of Shangshu Ling (Chief Minister) and kept them there for three whole years without any change.

Of course, it wasn’t easy to change either. Despite Cao Jie once serving as Shangshu Ling, which significantly lowered the prestige of the position, it remained the highest official in the inner court who participated in state affairs.

This person was none other than Lu Zhi.