If a grassland tribe wants to maintain a population of over three million, the only viable option is to take control of agricultural regions.
Historically, only three grassland tribes have managed to do this: the Xiongnu, the Khitan, and the Mongols.
The Jin Dynasty and the Qing Dynasty, on the other hand, were more akin to fishing and hunting cultures.
At the current point in history where Mengde finds herself, the only example of a tribe capable of such a feat is the early Han-era Xiongnu Empire.
The Xiongnu were arguably the strongest tribe on the steppes for a full thousand years before the Mongols.
This was because they not only controlled the Mongolian Plateau but also the fertile Hetao Region and the Hexi Corridor.
In addition, many prosperous Western Regions (Xiyu) states were also tributaries to them.
Very few nomadic tribes in later generations ever held these three regions at the same time.
But with them, the Xiongnu could easily support a population of over three million without internal strife.
They even had surplus manpower to experiment with agriculture in Hetao and Hexi and had access to a large number of skilled craftsmen.
This meant the Xiongnu were not like the later Xianbei or Turks—simple nomadic tribes—but were more similar to the Khitan and Mongols in structure: full-fledged empires.
Nomadic tribes like the Xianbei or Turks would collapse into chaos if the Central Plains cut off their supplies.
But empires like the Xiongnu, Khitan, and Mongols had self-sustaining capabilities.
While economic blockades from the Han might impact them, it would not be fatal.
Their military weaponry was also not far behind that of the Central Plains dynasties.
The Xiongnu primarily used bronze weapons.
Though inferior to the Han’s iron arms, they were still metal.
The Khitan had weapons on par with the Song Dynasty.
As for the Mongol Empire, after gathering craftsmen from various civilizations during their westward conquests, their weapons not only matched but far surpassed those of the Southern Song—developing powerful siege weapons like the Huihui Pao (Muslim trebuchet).
One of Emperor Wu of Han’s greatest achievements—besides unifying the various Warring States into a cohesive Han identity—was defeating the Xiongnu Empire.
This interrupted their development into a Mongol-like superpower.
By occupying Hetao, Hexi, and the Western Regions—areas suitable for agriculture—he integrated them into the Han system.
After that, the Xiongnu Empire regressed into mere tribal status.
For the next thousand years, whether it was the Xianbei, Wuhuan, Rouran, or Turks, none evolved beyond nomadic tribes.
Their populations never exceeded two million, and their self-sufficiency remained poor.
As long as the Central Plains was even moderately strong, it could defeat them.
This situation continued until the Khitan took over the Sixteen Prefectures of Yanyun and gained agricultural lands, finally achieving self-sufficiency.
As for the Mongol Empire—an enormous force that simultaneously controlled both the steppe and Central Plains—it was powerful enough to conquer half of Eurasia.
Mengde had no intention of letting the current grassland population grow beyond three million.
Such a tribe would be far too dangerous, and it would place an unbearable strain on the Central Plains.
After all, every additional person in the steppe would require food equivalent to two or three people from the Central Plains to support.
In an agricultural society, transporting one shi of grain to the steppe could cost five to six shi in transit losses alone.
Keeping the grassland population at around 1.5 million was far more manageable.
That number was a reasonable balance for both the Central Plains and the steppe.
Therefore, to control the population of the grasslands, Mengde needed to extend her reach into the Xiongnu and Xianbei tribes themselves.
As for how to do it—well, the later Qing Dynasty had already shown her the way.
Mengde gave a hint to Jia Xu.
“But although your five strategies sound nearly perfect, I believe there’s still one thing you haven’t fully grasped.”
“Please, enlighten me, Lady Mengde.”
Jia Xu immediately bowed and asked humbly.
At this point in time, Jia Xu was still just an ordinary scribe, not yet the infamous cunning strategist who would later manipulate Li Jue and Guo Si into wreaking havoc in Chang’an.
As such, he wasn’t too proud to learn from Mengde.
Mengde smiled slightly and asked, “Wenhe, do you think the Xiongnu and Xianbei tribes are truly united?”
“Of course not!”
Even using his toes to think, Jia Xu could see that wasn’t true.
After all, even the Han Empire—with its Confucian ethics and moral governance—was riddled with deadly infighting between emperors, ministers, and nobles. How could a steppe society, governed by the law of the jungle, expect brotherly harmony?
Just look at how Modu Chanyu killed his own father, Touman Chanyu, to seize control of the Xiongnu.
In Xiongnu politics, even a father-son bond could end in cold-blooded murder.
If things were like that between father and son, how could relations between different tribes be any better?
They’d be lucky not to bash each other’s brains out on sight!
Hearing Jia Xu’s answer, Mengde nodded in satisfaction and continued, “Exactly. There are internal rivalries between different Xiongnu and Xianbei tribes. Wenhe, what do you think would happen if the Han court bypassed the tribal royal court and conducted official trade directly with each mid-sized tribe of over ten thousand households in designated regions?”
Jia Xu’s eyes suddenly gleamed with sharp clarity.
He instantly grasped the long-term implications of Mengde’s plan.
“At that point, the Xiongnu and Xianbei tribes probably won’t acknowledge their royal courts anymore—they’ll only recognize the Han Dynasty…”
The royal courts only collected tributes from the tribes every year, and if the tribes refused, the royal court would dispatch troops to suppress them. But the Han? Not only would the Han Dynasty not demand any tribute, it would even trade grain—a vital resource for them—with the tribes.
Any herdsman with half a brain would know which side to choose!
“However…”
Jia Xu’s voice hesitated slightly.
“To accomplish this, the first step is to deal with resistance from the royal courts. The Xiongnu who have already submitted to the Han are one thing, but the Xianbei royal court definitely won’t submit so easily, not when their rule is at stake. If we want to implement your policy across the steppe, the Han Dynasty will eventually have to completely subdue the Xianbei.”
“I’m well aware of that,” Mengde replied.
The foundation of Hong Taiji’s Mongol Eight Banners system was the defeat of the Mongol khan, Ligden Khan.
In the real world, there was no such thing as Hong Taiji simply giving a commanding shout and Ligden Khan immediately submitting.
In this world, everything is ultimately decided by strength!
Seeing that Mengde had already come to this realization, Jia Xu gave her a formal bow.
“Miss, if your plan succeeds… then the Han Dynasty’s four-hundred-year border crisis might finally end in your hands!”
“No,” Mengde shook her head.
“It should end in your hands.”
“In… mine?”
Jia Xu was momentarily stunned.
Then his expression turned visibly emotional and excited.
‘Is she really entrusting something this important to me?’
This was the kind of thing that would go down in history!
“I have many responsibilities,” Mengde explained, “and I need to focus my energy elsewhere. But since you can already see the bigger picture of my strategy, that means you’re qualified to carry this out. Once you succeed, even a top position in the court—like one of the Three Excellencies—will be within your reach.”
“But for now, your first task is to help me handle the current mission of supplying aid to the steppe tribes. Controlling them through trade and dismantling their power structures can come later. There’s no need to rush.”
“Once this task is completed, you’ll begin implementing the plan in Xiongnu territory next year. After we finish stabilizing the simpler Xiongnu faction, you can move on to the Xianbei. When the time comes, I’ll fully support you in the court.”
“Thank you, Miss.”
Jia Xu bowed deeply, his posture filled with respect.
As the saying goes, a scholar dies for the one who truly understands him.
Jia Xu had only just joined Mengde’s camp, and already she had entrusted him with a mission of immense importance.
It was a plan that could cement his name in history.
Naturally, this kind of treatment instantly won his complete loyalty.
Let alone Jia Xu—if someone like Dong Zhuo had received this level of trust and responsibility before rising to power, even he would’ve felt embarrassed to rebel.
He might very well have ended up as Dong Zhongying, Loyal Minister of the Han Dynasty.
***
After painting this grand vision, Mengde turned to Jia Xu with another task.
“By the way, there’s something else I’d like you to do.”
“Please, Miss, go ahead.”
“I want you to study Buddhism and use it as a reference to reform the Xiongnu and Xianbei’s Tengrism. In the future, I want members of their tribes to become priests each year—celibate and childless—as a way to control the population growth among the steppe tribes.”
“Control the population of the steppe tribes?”
Jia Xu inhaled sharply at her words.
“Exactly.” Mengde shamelessly borrowed the advanced strategies used by the Later Qing.
“If the tribes have a stable supply of grain, their populations are bound to explode. And with each additional person, the Han will need to send even more grain to support them.”
“One day, if the Central Plains can no longer sustain this, we’ll be looking at three or four million Xianbei raiders swarming our borders. I’m not going to let that happen.”
“That… does make sense.”
After thinking about it for a moment, Jia Xu had no choice but to acknowledge the logic in her reasoning.
After all, when Emperor Gaozu Liu Bang established the Han Dynasty, the entire population of the Central Plains was just over ten million.
But only a few decades later, during the reign of Emperor Wu, thanks to abundant food supplies, that number had exploded to over fifty million.
The steppe’s growth might not be as extreme, but if left unchecked, it wasn’t unrealistic for them to reach a population of five million in a hundred years.
And just feeding those five million would require grain for at least ten million people annually—considering transport losses.
‘How could the Han possibly supply that kind of volume?’
If the grain supply ever faltered, the tribes would definitely start killing each other internally, but after that, they would begin launching wave after wave of invasions into the Central Plains.
‘Five million Xianbei warriors flooding south?’
‘Could the Han army really hold them back?’
Jia Xu wasn’t optimistic.
Therefore, the population of the steppe tribes had to be controlled.
And the idea of reshaping Tengrism using Buddhist principles—so that Xiongnu and Xianbei people would voluntarily become celibate priests each year—was both effective and ruthless.
A smile crept onto Jia Xu’s face.
To be able to serve such a mistress, someone who could achieve great things without being shackled by convention—what good fortune!
As one of the most infamous strategists of the late Han and Three Kingdoms era, Jia Xu’s loyalty grew even deeper in that moment.
If Mengde could have heard what Jia Xu was thinking, she would probably burst into tears and shout—
‘I only borrowed a bit of wisdom from future generations!’
‘I’m really not some master of poison schemes!’
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