Sima Yan sat obediently in the carriage, glancing now and then at Cao Mao beside him.
He had many questions, but did not know how to ask them.
Even now, he did not understand why His Majesty insisted on striking at people who had followed him and rendered so many meritorious services.
They posed no threat to His Majesty at all.
Cao Mao sensed Sima Yan's gaze, but said nothing more.
Naturally, Cao Mao had his own reasons for moving against these great clans.
To insist that it was for righteousness throughout the realm would be rather hypocritical. To call them thieves preying on the altars of soil and grain would make him, a feudal monarch, the chief thief.
They were merely petty thieves. In annexing land, in family wealth, in tenant farmers and servants, which great clan could compare with him, Cao Mao?
Nor would it be right to say it was to keep Great Wei from declining for ages to come. However prosperous Great Wei became, how long could it last?
Only a little over two hundred years. Reaching three hundred would already be quite impressive.
Every unified dynasty began by moving against the powerful families and great clans, yet new problems would eventually emerge, and in the end, it would inevitably head toward destruction.
Then what exactly was it for?
Naturally, it was to make the world a little better, to bring that twisted, perverse clannish politics to an end as soon as possible.
To uproot it before its poison spread through the whole body, before the fever burned out the brain.
Cao Mao could not completely resolve land annexation, nor could he suppress those great clans forever, but the heavy blows he was dealing now could at least hold them down for a hundred years.
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