The Salt Merchant Turned Warlord

In the chaotic final decades of the Yuan Dynasty (1271–1368), ambitious men rose from obscurity to challenge Mongol rule. Among them was Fang Guozhen, a towering salt smuggler from Taizhou whose physical strength became legendary—stories claimed he could wrestle galloping horses to the ground. Unlike his contemporary Zhang Shicheng (another salt merchant turned rebel), Fang oscillated unpredictably between rebellion and allegiance to the Yuan government. His whims dictated his loyalty: in good moods, he served the authorities; in foul ones, he executed Yuan officials for sport. The weakened Yuan court, unable to control him, resorted to appeasement, allowing Fang to dominate Taizhou and Wenzhou with his private army.

Fang’s early success reflected broader unrest. The Yuan’s oppressive policies, including heavy salt taxes, had driven thousands into smuggling. By the 1350s, southern China fractured into rival factions—peasant uprisings, regional warlords, and Yuan loyalists vying for power. Fang thrived in this vacuum, exploiting coastal fisheries and salt trade routes to fund his ambitions.

Clash of the Salt Titans: Fang vs. Zhang Shicheng

In 1357, the Yuan court enlisted Fang to suppress Zhang Shicheng’s expansion. Their seven battles became a turning point: Fang’s victories shattered Zhang’s invincibility, forcing Zhang’s temporary surrender to the Yuan. This triumph inflated Fang’s ego; he dismissed other rebels like Xu Shouhui and Chen Youliang as overrated. When an obscure commander named Zhu Yuanzhang (later the Ming Dynasty’s founder) attempted to recruit him, Fang scoffed: “Who is this Zhu? A nobody!”

Yet Fang was no fool. His investigation into Zhu revealed a meteoric rise—from foot soldier to regional power in five years. Zhu’s territories were poor but expanding alarmingly. More crucially, Fang grasped Zhu’s strategic dilemma: southern China’s six remaining power blocs (three major: Xu/Chen, Zhang, Zhu; three minor: Fang, Ming Yuzhen in Sichuan, and Yuan loyalists) were locked in stalemate. No faction could annex smaller rivals without exposing themselves to attacks from others. Zhu’s outreach to Fang was a gambit to break this deadlock through diplomacy rather than war.

The Cat-and-Mouse Game with Zhu Yuanzhang

Fang’s response was masterfully duplicitous. In 1359, he lavished Zhu’s envoys with bribes and vague promises: “Let’s crush Zhang Shicheng first, then discuss my submission.” Zhu, suspecting deceit, remained silent. Fang escalated offers—ceding cities, even sending his son as a hostage—but Zhu saw through the ruse, erupting: “True allegiance needs no hostages!”

The stalemate turned hostile. Fang taunted Zhu about an imminent attack by Chen Youliang, Zhu’s archrival. Ironically, both Chen and Zhu were indeed plotting each other’s demise. Fang’s warning, though mocking, underscored the era’s brutal calculus: alliances were temporary, betrayal inevitable.

Liu Bowen: The Strategist Who Changed History

Zhu’s fortunes pivoted in 1360 with the arrival of Liu Bowen, a polymath known as much for his mystical reputation as for his military genius. Disillusioned by Yuan corruption, Liu had retired to Zhejiang—until Zhu’s persistent invitations drew him to Nanjing (then called Yingtian). His “Eight Strategies” became Zhu’s blueprint for supremacy:

1. Legitimacy Through Virtue: Positioning Zhu as a moral alternative to the Yuan.
2. Southern Consolidation Before Northern Conquest.
3. Nanjing as a Capital: Its geography offered defensive advantages.
4. Governance Reforms: Light taxes, strict discipline—anti-Yuan policies to win hearts.
5. “Delay Kingship”: Avoid proclaiming himself king prematurely to evade Yuan targeting.
6. Fortify and Stockpile: Grain reserves and city walls as foundations for war.
7. Talent Recruitment: “Men, not gold, are the true currency of power.”
8. Prioritize Enemies: Crush Chen Youliang first; Zhang Shicheng, weaker, could wait.

Liu’s insights transformed Zhu from a regional player into a systemic threat. His prediction that Chen would attack soon proved eerily accurate—within months, the two clashed in the pivotal Battle of Lake Poyang (1363), where Zhu’s victory sealed Chen’s fate and reordered southern China’s power map.

Legacy: The Pirate Who Shaped an Empire

Fang Guozhen’s story is a microcosm of Yuan China’s collapse. His pragmatism—playing Yuan, Zhu, and rivals against each other—prolonged his autonomy but ultimately couldn’t withstand Zhu’s ascendancy. In 1367, facing inevitable defeat, Fang surrendered, spared execution due to his naval expertise (which later aided Ming campaigns). His life underscores a recurring theme: in times of upheaval, charisma and cunning could forge kingdoms, but only systemic strategy built empires.

Today, Fang is remembered less as a rebel than as a transitional figure—a reminder that history’s “nobodies” often shape its outcomes. His taunt to Zhu (“Who is this nobody?”) echoes ironically: the “nobody” became an emperor, while the pirate-king faded into footnotes. Yet without Fang’s resistance, Zhu’s path to unification might have been far harder. In the end, both men proved that in revolutions, adaptability trumps brute force—a lesson as relevant now as in the 14th century.