Chapter 247: De‑Founding the Ancestor (I)

Wang Xu took it with both hands, unfolded it, and his heart instantly raced.

The content of the Imperial Edict was more astonishing than he had imagined.

Zhao Jiong not only authorized the Wang Family to form a private fleet and explore overseas, but also formally appointed Head of Family Wang Che as the "Eastern Sea Pacification Commissioner", granting him a fief of three thousand households, the right to act freely abroad, to establish ports and cities, and to raise a pacification force of no more than five thousand men; everything they obtain, except a thirty‑percent tribute to the Court each year, belongs entirely to the Wang Family!

This is no longer merely a trade permit.

It is an overseas enfeoffment!

It turns the Wang Family from a merchant clan into an overseas fiefdom with its own territory and armed forces!

"Your Majesty… this… this grace is too…" Wang Xu's voice trembled.

"Not much," Zhao Jiong cut him off. "I give your Wang Family a golden mountain; your Wang Family must return to me a realm!"

"What I want is not just a Water‑Fire Great Power Machine," Zhao Jiong's eyes burned with fierce ambition.

"I want your Wang Family, within ten years, to help me raise a new army of thirty thousand! An army fully equipped with firearms and artillery, with logistics powered by great machines, an invincible force under heaven!"

"I want your Wang Family to help me forge an ironclad fleet that can roam the seas unchecked! Let the Khitan navy, before the Great Song fleet, be like a chicken and a dog!"

"I want your Wang Family to bring forth every technology you possess—steel forging, weaving, mining… I want it all! I will fill the Great Song treasury with gold and silver! I will ensure every citizen has clothing and food!"

He stared at Wang Xu, saying word for word, "I give you a future overseas kingdom. You must give me a flourishing present. Do you think this deal is fair?"

Wang Xu clutched the Imperial Edict tightly, his palms slick with sweat.

He knew that from the moment he nodded, the Wang Family was irrevocably bound to this New Monarch.

It was a high‑stakes gamble.

If they won, the Wang Family would usher in unprecedented glory, becoming a colossal entity above the mundane world.

If they lost, it would be an irrecoverable disaster.

He raised his head, looked at Zhao Jiong's face full of desire and ambition, and knelt solemnly.

"Minister Wang Xu, on behalf of the entire Wang Family, receives the edict and thanks! Our Wang Family is willing to lay our hearts and brains on the ground for Your Majesty's great cause!" Zhao Jiong and the Wang Family reached a secret agreement, feeling elated.

The Institute of Investigating Things threw itself into fervent construction, and the treasury also received the Wang Family's "tribute". Everything seemed to develop according to his design.

But a thorn remained lodged in his heart.

That thorn was his elder brother Zhao Kuangyin.

Although he had seized the throne by thunderous means and sealed dissent with the Golden Treasury Alliance, rumors still whispered in private.

"Candlelight Axe Sounds."

Those four characters haunted his ears like a nightmare, echoing from time to time.

Walking through the palace, he always felt the palace maids and eunuchs looked at him with a hint of unease.

During court sessions, he looked at the senior officials the late emperor had promoted and sensed they regarded him in their hearts as a despicable usurper.

That feeling made him sit on a bed of needles, unable to rest or eat in peace.

He, Zhao Jiong, the emperor of heavenly mandate, could not bear the stigma of "fratricide and usurpation."

No way, absolutely not!

History is written by the victors.

Since that is so, I will rewrite this history with my own hands!

That day, under the pretext of discussing the revision of the national history, he summoned the era's most renowned historiographers, together with the Imperial Scholar Wang Xu, to the Wende Hall.

The senior historiographers knelt on the ground, unaware what concoction the New Monarch was selling.

Zhao Jiong did not waste words, getting straight to the point: "I have summoned you today for a great matter to discuss with all of you. Since the founding of the Great Song over ten years ago, the compilation of the national history has never been perfect. Especially the many deeds of the Founding Emperor's founding and establishment are riddled with omissions and bias."

The historiographers' hearts lurched at the news.

It meant they were about to tamper with the histories.

The chief historiographer, an elderly white‑bearded man named Li Mu, forced himself to speak: "Your Majesty, the Founding Emperor's Annals are based entirely on the inner palace daily records and Court reports; every word has a source, we dare not fabricate a single line."

"Not dare to fabricate?" Zhao Jiong sneered, lifted a thick volume from the imperial desk and tossed it down. "Then tell me, where was I during the Chenqiao Mutiny?"

The booklet thwacked onto Li Mu's front—it was the draft of the Founding Emperor's Annals.

Li Mu picked it up, turned to that page, and answered cautiously, "Your Majesty, the records state that during the Chenqiao Mutiny, when the Yellow Robe was bestowed, Your Majesty… was in the Capital, serving as Chief of the Capital Guard, stabilizing the capital's situation."

"Rubbish!" Zhao Jiong slammed the table, his dragon‑like visage raging, "Utter nonsense!"

He rose and paced back and forth in the great hall, his face a mix of anger and grievance.

"Recall the beginning, when my elder brother was backed by the generals and hesitated—who was the first to step forward and urge him to follow Heaven's mandate for the sake of the realm? It was I!"

"That night, who personally draped the dragon robe on my elder brother, led the generals in kneeling, and established the ruler‑subject relationship? It was I!"

"And who, after my elder brother returned to the capital, wielded a precious sword to subdue the treacherous Later Zhou royal clan, ensuring a smooth handover? Still I!"

"I was at Chenqiao, achieving an unparalleled feat! Yet your histories gloss over it, merely saying I was in the capital. Are you blind, or heart‑blind?"

Zhao Jiong's voice turned fierce, spittle flying, casting himself as the chief director and foremost hero of the Chenqiao Mutiny.

The junior historiographers stared dumbfounded, cold sweat streaming down.

They were all eyewitnesses of that era; even if not present, they had heard the events countless times. The Chenqiao Mutiny did see Zhao Guangyi contribute, but far less than he boasted. All talk of "the first to advise" and "personally draping the dragon robe" was nonsense!

But now that the emperor says it, who dares to contradict?

Only Li Mu, a stubborn scholar, believed a historiographer's duty was to record truth, not to shield the exalted.

He knelt, bowed his head, and trembled as he said, "Your Majesty, historical records require evidence. What you claim differs in many ways from the daily notes and soldiers' testimonies we possess. To amend them would likely be impossible to convince the masses, and we could not explain it to posterity."

He meant, "If you fabricate like this, we have no way to write."

Zhao Jiong's steps halted.

He approached Li Mu, looking down from his height.

"Your meaning is that I am lying?"

"The old minister dares not!" Li Mu, terrified, buried his head even lower.

"You are not merely afraid; you are accusing me!" Zhao Jiong's voice carried a hint of murderous intent, "Li Mu, as a historiographer, you do not share the ruler's worries, display saintly virtue, but instead cling to old papers, distort facts, confuse the public; your heart deserves execution!"