The Fractured Court of Emperor Hongwu

In the early years of the Ming Dynasty (1368–1644), Zhu Yuanzhang—the peasant-turned-emperor known as the Hongwu Emperor—ruled with a blend of visionary statecraft and ruthless paranoia. Having overthrown the Mongol-led Yuan Dynasty, Zhu faced the monumental task of consolidating power while managing the competing factions within his court. Among these factions were the Anhui Clique (dominated by land-based military elites), the Zhejiang Clique (aligned with scholar-officials like Liu Bowen), and the lesser-known but strategically vital Chaohu Clique, led by naval commander Liao Yongzhong.

This was a court where loyalty was prized but suspicion ran deep. When Hu Weiyong, a rising bureaucratic star, strode confidently into the Central Secretariat, the aging strategist Liu Bowen abruptly resigned, citing old age and illness. Zhu accepted this resignation without protest—partly because Liu’s influence had waned, but also because the emperor’s attention had shifted to a more pressing concern: the mercurial ambitions of Liao Yongzhong.

The Rise and Fall of a Naval Hero

Liao Yongzhong was no ordinary general. As a leader of the Chaohu Clique, he had played a pivotal role in Zhu’s naval victories against rival warlord Chen Youliang. His most infamous contribution, however, was the assassination of Han Lin’er—a figurehead monarch whose death cleared Zhu’s path to the throne. Though the act was tacitly sanctioned by Zhu, it stained Liao’s reputation, earning him the scorn of the Anhui Clique, who viewed him as a morally compromised opportunist.

Isolated by the Anhui faction and spurned by the principled Liu Bowen, Liao threw his support behind the scheming minister Yang Xian. Together, they targeted rivals like Wang Guangyang, collecting damning secrets to undermine them. Zhu, ever watchful, warned Liao against overreach: “Ambition is commendable, but unchecked desire leads to ruin.” Liao ignored the advice. When Yang Xian was later purged by Anhui leader Li Shanchang, Liao narrowly escaped punishment—but Zhu’s distrust festered.

A General’s Reckoning

In 1372, Liao’s resentment boiled over during a military campaign against the Mongols. Defying orders from superior officer Li Wenzhong, he nearly caused a catastrophic defeat. A furious Zhu publicly rebuked him, but Liao showed no remorse. Privately, the emperor confronted him: “What has become of you?” Liao’s silence spoke volumes. Zhu soon grasped the truth: Liao believed he deserved a dukedom for killing Han Lin’er—a “service” the court pretended never happened.

Realizing Liao would always see himself as a creditor, Zhu began sidelining him. Promotions became ceremonial; influence waned. Liao, increasingly bitter, vented at private gatherings—unaware that Zhu’s spies recorded every word. The end came in 1374, when a servant “discovered” treasonous imperial artifacts in Liao’s home (likely planted by Zhu). Arrested, Liao faced a theatrical trial where officials pleaded for mercy. Zhu, feigning reluctance, commuted his death sentence—but not his suffering.

Death by a Thousand Humiliations

What followed was a masterclass in psychological torment. Liao was confined to an open-air cell under the scorching Nanjing sun. Guards doused him with icy water to “prevent heatstroke,” a cruel echo of Han Lin’er’s drowning. As Liao withered, he muttered about karmic justice—a reference to his victim’s dying words: “Why the hurry?”

When Liao fell ill, Zhu executed the guards (a hollow gesture) and ordered him beaten before release. Broken and delirious, Liao died days later. With the Chaohu Clique dissolved, Zhu turned his gaze to the remaining factions. The Anhui Clique, now dominant, celebrated their emperor’s “compassion.”

Legacy: The Cost of Absolute Power

Liao’s demise underscores the peril of功臣 (meritorious officials) in autocracies. His fate—like that of many Ming generals—reveals Zhu’s obsession with preempting dissent, even at the cost of alienating loyalists. The episode also highlights the fragility of factional alliances in early Ming politics, where naval and land forces competed for prestige.

Modern parallels abound: revolutionary heroes purged by regimes they helped build, or corporate lieutenants discarded after hostile takeovers. Liao’s final words—”When the realm is secure, how can ministers escape blame?”—remain a haunting epitaph for those who serve absolute power.

For Zhu, Liao’s death was a necessity. For history, it’s a reminder: even the most indispensable tools are discarded when their purpose is fulfilled.