Chapter 713: The World's Stirring (Part 1)

In a secluded building nestled in a corner of the inner court of Xijing, a large number of people knelt in the corridors. Not far from this building lay many dead bodies, all of them Qi practitioners whom Beimang considered priceless.

An old woman, clad in black robes and white fur, stood under the eaves. Her hands were folded into her sleeves, crossed horizontally over her chest, with the raised sleeves resembling bat wings.

This elderly woman, at whose feet all men in Beimang prostrated themselves, rarely got angry. But today, her expression was extremely grim. First, True Master Nanming of the Daode Sect, a divination expert from inside the building, tremblingly informed her that the fate of the Chess, Sword, and Music Bureau's Bronze Golem Ancestor was unknown, and Sword Qi Jin Huangqing was undoubtedly dead. Then, a dormant great vat, a vital national treasure, was shattered by an unknown Earthly Immortal, and the true dragon, nurtured for over twenty years and consuming immeasurable fortune, burst out of the vat. That alone would have been enough, but amidst rolling thunder, that opportunistic Celestial Dragon failed to gain any advantage. So, she decisively decided to help it, as she always dared to make high-stakes gambles with fate. If she wasn't at the gambling table, fine, but if she was, she'd bet big. Last time she won, winning handsomely, and the entire Beimang dynasty took her surname. But this time, True Master Nanming told her she had lost, and the approximately one hundred corpses outside the building were clear evidence. In truth, her fury was not about losing a strategically insignificant battle in Liuzhou, Beiliang, nor even the death of a true dragon, and certainly not about those Qi practitioners who always sought spirits and gods rather than caring for the common people.

What truly made the aged woman intolerable was a small matter that could not be spoken about to anyone: during the lowest and most impoverished point in her life, she had lost to an unknown lout from Liaodong; now, at the peak of her power, she had lost to his son!

The Grand Peace Regent stood beside the woman. The old man was the only Beimang official who still dared to stand.

She finally spoke.

“Issue an imperial decree to Dong Zhuo, granting him permission to independently mobilize all border forces. All, from Great Generals to Seal Holders, must obey his orders. Those who defy him shall be executed first, and their actions reported later!”

“Issue an imperial decree to Tuoba Pusa, ordering him to lead the imperial guards swiftly south, directly towards Liuzhou.”

“Issue an imperial decree to Li Mibi, instructing him to begin preparations for 'Carps Crossing the River'.”

“Issue an imperial decree to Huang Songpu, ordering his reinstatement and for him to lead troops to garrison Xijing.”

One imperial decree after another issued from her lips.

After all, she was an old woman in her twilight years, and it was inevitable that her energy would wane, betraying her elderly fatigue for a moment. But today, she did not even allow herself this brief lapse. She suddenly pulled her hands from her wide sleeves, ripped off the old fox fur cloak she was wearing, threw it onto the snow outside the steps, and then strode away, not sparing another glance at the old garment that was steadily accumulating snow.

Taian City was never short of excitement, but much of it was hard to join. However, when an accessible spectacle appeared, no one wanted to be left behind.

Currently, rumors were circulating that the new Right Libationer of the Imperial Academy, who succeeded Jin Sanlang, was going to hold a military lecture. Whether this would be mere theoretical talk or a display of true strategic brilliance – whether he was a donkey or a mule would be known once he was paraded out. Most people were going to watch a spectacle, hoping for a laugh.

Jin Lantian, the current Vice Minister of the Ministry of Rites, enjoyed a good reputation at the Imperial Academy. During his tenure, he not only secured numerous imperial favors for the Academy but also founded the capital's most renowned poetry society. He and seven other talents from the society were collectively known as the "Eight Excellencies of Taian." This group swept the top three places in the imperial examinations: Li Jifu as the Zhuangyuan (top scholar), and Gao Tingshu and Wu Congxian as the two Bangyan (second-place scholars). Among them, Gao Tingshu, known as the "Poetry Ghost," composed the widely acclaimed "Eight Immortals Drunk" at a banquet, which instantly brought all eight attendees nationwide fame overnight. Although the eight celebrated luminaries in the capital came from vastly different backgrounds, they frequently exchanged poems and songs, showcasing the refined elegance of scholarly gentlemen. Discerning individuals could see that while Jin Sanlang, the leader of the Eight Excellencies, was not particularly favored by the Privy Council ministers, the "momentum" he had gradually built up was not to be underestimated.

It seemed particularly abrupt and audacious when a minor official named Sun Yin from the Chancellery was exceptionally appointed to the prestigious vacant position of Right Libationer. Even stranger was that this individual was not rumored to have any strong backing. Thus, Sun Yin's meteoric rise, along with local official Xu Gong's appointment to the Ministry of War as Vice Minister, and Chen Wang's rapid ascent, became the "Three Great Wonders" of the capital's officialdom at the end of the Xiangfu first year, drawing considerable attention. After all, Xu Gong, a member of the Gumu Xu clan, already had the foundation of being a Dragon-Soaring General, and Chen Wang, Chen Shaobao, had the dual credentials of Grand Lecturer and Director of the Department of Merit Assessment. These backgrounds only made Sun Yin's advancement appear even more bizarre and unusual by comparison.

Moreover, Sun Yin was incredibly arrogant, openly proclaiming that his lecture would be a grand military exercise. He would act as the offensive side, commanding two forces: Beimang's million iron cavalry and the remnants of Western Chu secessionists from Guangling Province.

All attendees of the lecture belonged to the defensive side. This included the army led by Lu Shengxiang, the newly appointed Valiant General and commander of the Southern Expedition; Grand Pillar of State Gu Jiantang's Two Liaos defense line; the forces of all vassal kings who participated in the suppression of the rebellion; and finally, of course, the Beiliang Iron Cavalry, a force deliberately forgotten for many years.

This verbal duel, unprecedented in its scope, drew over a thousand students from the Imperial Academy alone to audit. Most of them were destined not to hear what the new Libationer was saying directly, but there was no need to worry; news would soon be relayed from the front to the back, cascading through the crowd like waves. Students who arrived early claimed their spots by sitting on the ground. Those who came later could only stand, and further back, they had to stand on tiptoes and crane their necks. Eventually, some resorted to standing on stools. However, in the prime spots closest to the "madman" Sun, there were many simple yet thick futons, perhaps over thirty of them. The distinguished guests privileged to sit on these futons were indeed esteemed beyond measure!

At the head of these distinguished guests was none other than Qi Yanglong, the first Grand Chancellor of the Liyang court in thirty years and the head of the Chancellery. To the Grand Chancellor's left sat Huan Wen, the "Frank Elder" who oversaw the Secretariat. To his right was Yao Baifeng, the Neo-Confucian master who continued to preside over the Imperial Academy, an "unfulfilled person" who had failed to succeed Bai Guo as Minister of Rites during the recent power shift. Also present was Bai Guo himself, who had moved from the relatively insignificant Ministry of Rites to the powerful Ministry of Revenue. Furthermore, there was a certain imperial relative who, despite the depth of winter, seemed particularly triumphant—yes, the Prince of Chai, who had boldly entered the capital's view by leveraging his excellent son-in-law.

This lengthy military lecture continued from noon until dusk with no sign of concluding. Yet, no one left, and new faces constantly flowed in, creating a human sea.

During this time, the Crown Prince Regent, accompanied by the Grand Consort, quietly joined the audience midway through.

Soon after, Zhao Youling, the venerable former Minister of Personnel and new Grand Councilor of the Chancellery, made his way through the crowd without concealing his identity, joining the gathering and taking a seat on a newly added futon.

Compared to Zhao Youling, Crown Prince's Tutor Yin Maochun, who had risen from Head of the Hanlin Academy to Minister of Personnel, was much more discreet and low-key. He arrived at the Imperial Academy with minimal fanfare and stood shoulder to shoulder with Chen Wang, the unbelievably young Left Supervising Secretary of the Chancellery. While they could neither see nor hear much from their position, these two prominent figures, both high-ranking officials—one a top-ranked second-grade official of the outer court, the other an incomparably esteemed third-grade official—stood there for a full two hours. Because they stood far back, without escorts or crimson-purple official robes, and were surrounded by ordinary Imperial Academy students diligently studying classics, no one realized that two such influential figures of the current court were standing so close by. They were simply regarded as ordinary Confucian scholars of Taian City.

The Imperial Academy remained a hub of lively discussion and a focal point of debate throughout the capital. Outside its walls, taverns and tea houses overflowed with people, all awaiting the conclusion of the grand debate.

Scholars and students constantly ran into the streets, loudly reporting the "real-time progress of the battle."

However, in the almost deserted Hanlin Academy, two travel-worn old faces appeared. One was Master Yuan, who had been frustrated and down on his luck for many years. The other caused the on-duty official to almost roll his eyes openly. In the past, when the two Song masters dominated the scholarly world, that official would publicly and privately praise Song Keli as a "young phoenix of the Song family." But now, with both masters dead and no posthumous honors to speak of, who didn't know that the once glorious Song family had no chance of resurgence? A featherless phoenix is inferior to a chicken; who would still value Song Keli, who had been demoted to a minor county magistrate in a poverty-stricken area? If a cold stove like that could still be lit, the official would eat all the stove ashes!

This seventh-rank upright official, however, did not put on too many airs or show a harsh expression. After all, Yuan Pu, the Yuan Huangmen (Palace Gate Keeper) who had gone out to visit relatives, still held a position at the Hanlin Academy. They would inevitably see each other, so there was no need to jeopardize the goodwill accumulated over years of being tactful and adaptable just for the sake of Song Keli.

After Yuan Pu—or rather, Yuan Benxi, the Imperial Tutor of Liyang—took his seat in his room, his speech, hampered by a "half-inch tongue," was naturally slurred. "Aren't you going to the Imperial Academy to take a look? That's where your Song family rose to prominence."

Song Keli, who had accompanied Master Yuan on journeys across the land, shook his head and calmly said, "Revisiting old places won't help."

Yuan Benxi remained silent for a moment, then slowly said, "Chen Wang, Sun Yin—they will be your political rivals from now on. In terms of both achievements and scholarship, they are no less capable than you. However, these two have come into the open first. This is your biggest disadvantage, yet also your only advantage."

Song Keli nodded.

At dusk, not far from the Hanlin Academy, at the Zhao Family Urn Ministerial Office, a tall old man with a purple beard and green eyes walked alone onto the Imperial Way. He stood in the center of the world's most magnificent and widest street, his back to the Imperial City gate, gazing at the southern sky.

The old man inexplicably recalled a chance encounter from his youth. At that time, the other person was also very young, and at least, his leg wasn't crippled.

At that time, his mentor deliberately kept him suppressed in the Hanlin Academy, while his closest friend was already serving as a Director in the Ministry of War, and other successful candidates from his imperial examination year had all secured promising futures. It was a period when scholars were suffocated by military men. Ten years prior, scholars were like actors, only fit to be sycophants to generals in court. Decades further back, the dynasty was fragmented by regional warlords, with everyone carving out their own territories. Scholars couldn't even manage to be sycophants; if they flattered incorrectly, or if their flowery praises were misunderstood or not understood by the military men, their heads might be lopped off with a swift chop. In such a dynasty, not to mention the original orthodox Great Chu, even Eastern Yue, which willingly served Great Chu as a slave, had the right to mock this northern neighbor as a group of uncivilized barbarians. And because he was born with a purple beard and green eyes, even the native Liyang Northern Barbarians, with their conventional appearances, would mock him.

One late autumn day, when scholars' lives had finally seen a slight improvement, he went to the Ministry of War office on a gloomy day to ask a close friend for a backdoor favor: to borrow a map of the Two Liaos territory. Just as he got the map he wanted, a torrential downpour suddenly began. Fearing the rain would soak the map, he took shelter under the eaves of the office entrance. However, the relentless, biting rain did not stop, so he could only wait patiently. Then he saw a young man approach, holding an umbrella and carrying a small wooden box. He immediately disliked this person because of his strong martial air. Judging by his attire, he was probably a low-ranking officer whom the court turned a blind eye to. The Ministry of War office had deep courtyards, with several layers and entrances, and he guessed this man would probably stop at the first courtyard. Sure enough, the fellow was blocked in the first courtyard, and he stopped paying attention. While waiting for the rain, he occasionally glanced over and saw the unremarkable young military man standing alone in the heavy rain, getting soaked. His umbrella was at his feet, and the open box, filled with shimmering white, likely contained silver. But such a paltry amount of silver was nothing in the eyes of the Ministry of War officials, who could swallow the sky; it was barely enough for three or four colleagues to enjoy a casual drinking party.

He vaguely heard the young man who had been turned away repeat variations of the same message: "I, Xu Xiao, guarantee with my head, sirs! Just give me a thousand troops for one month, only one month, and when I next visit, I'll have ten chests—ten chests of gold—carried in!"

The rain continued to fall, and he heard the young man in the courtyard loudly negotiating, constantly making concessions.

The troops decreased from a thousand to eight hundred, then to five hundred. The chests increased from ten to twenty, then to thirty.

When the heavy rain finally began to lessen, perhaps the Ministry of War officials, who had been leisurely drinking tea and chatting inside, felt it was time to go home. Senior figures began to emerge from the deep courtyards in small groups, conversing cheerfully and passing the young man without a glance. Later, a Director from the Bureau of Cartography finally took a look, not at the young man requesting troops, but at the silver in the box, which was now soaked with rain. He let out a scoff and seemed to utter something sarcastic, but the man sheltering by the entrance, avoiding the departing crowd, couldn't quite make it out.

Thinking that the rain hadn't completely stopped, he decided to wait for his friend inside the courtyard to finish his affairs.

Perhaps it was truly a blessing in disguise, as he then saw an old man, wearing an official robe with a tiger-leopard insignia, walk out of the courtyard with his hands clasped behind his back. Beside him, a Ministry of War subordinate diligently held an umbrella, its canopy tilted entirely towards the old man.

As the old man passed the young man, he stopped and kicked the box with his foot. Because the rain had significantly lightened, he clearly heard the conversation between individuals of vastly different statuses.

"Where are you from?"

"Your humble subordinate, Xu Xiao, is from Jinzhou, Liaodong!"

"Lost a battle, have we?"

"Yes! But my seven hundred brothers consumed two of Hong Chengkui's main battalions, one of which was cavalry..."

"Main battalions, cavalry—that's all nonsense. A loss is a loss. I'll ask you one thing: I'll treat this as a small gamble for amusement and give you some men. But can you really make a profit, young man?"

"Yes!"

"Alright then. I'll give you a tiger tally, and you can dispatch three hundred men from the Right Guard Army. As for the chests—wait, how many did you say you'd carry in?"

"Sir, it was thirty."

"Thirty?"

"Fifty!"

"Oh, you're quick-witted. Fine, I'll give you three hundred men. Remember to deliver the chests directly to my residence later."

"Thank you, sir! Your humble subordinate will surely not disappoint your grace!"

"Oh, I almost forgot, what was your name again? I wouldn't want to find myself wanting to kill someone later and not know who to look for."

"Xu Xiao, from the Jinzhou Camp!"

Finally, that prominent figure from the Ministry of War walked out of the office gate, followed by the fawning official who, with one hand, held an umbrella for him and, with the other, strenuously carried the box.

He saw the young military general standing in the rain with clenched fists, his back straight as always, but now holding a tiger tally in his hand.

The young man put the tiger tally into his chest pocket, bent down to pick up his umbrella, and turned towards the main gate.

He had already averted his gaze when the young general picked up his umbrella, focusing on his own thoughts and facing south.

The latter was not in a hurry to open his umbrella. Instead, he stopped under the eaves of the entrance, seemed to notice him, and smilingly asked, "Still waiting for the rain to stop?"

He was startled for a moment, then nodded.

Then the fellow grinned at him, unceremoniously tossed his umbrella over, giving him no chance to refuse, and strode down the steps, walking through the mud, gradually disappearing into the distance.

That day, Zhang Julu remembered the young military man's name.

Xu Xiao.

In that year, the Yonghui era name had not yet been adopted.

The two young men who met by chance—one was not yet the all-powerful Grand Chancellor, and the other was not yet the Great General whose achievements surpassed any reward.

Nor were they political adversaries who would remain estranged until death.

At the end of the first year of Xiangfu, only Zhang Julu remained, now an old man.

The old man standing on the Imperial Way slowly returned to his senses, smiled, and murmured to himself, "I don't enjoy drinking. If I ever meet you in the underworld, I'll have to buy you a drink. But before that, let me hold an umbrella for Beiliang one last time. Not for you, Xu Xiao, but for the people of Beiliang—who are also the people of Liyang."

At the end of the first year of Xiangfu, Emperor Zhao Dun returned to the capital after his border inspection.

The Censorate and the Supervising Secretaries jointly impeached one person.

Liyang's Grand Chancellor, Zhang Julu, was imprisoned by imperial decree. The court publicized his ten gravest crimes to the world. The Emperor issued an edict to execute his entire clan.