Chapter 776: Zhaoxian Tai

The cold wind swirled the feather‑light snow that drifted across the sky, howling wildly over the wasteland that lay on the border between Great Zhou and Qi State, burying all the withered grass on the ground deep within the bleak white snowdrifts.

An elderly Qi State craftsman with a head of white hair and a back hunched like an old bow was crawling forward with hands and feet in the knee‑deep snow, struggling immensely.

The patched, tattered cotton coat he wore had long been soaked through by meltwater, and his fingers, turned purple with cold, clutched tightly to the square, oil‑cloth‑wrapped object pressed against his chest.

Three young apprentices trailing the old craftsman were equally pallid; they gritted their teeth, supporting their master's wobbling frame, while the exposed backs of their necks still bore the purple‑black lash marks from the weapons overseer's whip.

"Master, if you can bite the dust a little longer, we'll be able to cross this Mountain Ridge in no time."

The apprentices gasped heavily, exhaling white vapor that froze into a fine layer of ice on their brows; their blood‑veined eyes stared fixedly at the faint Da Zhou Boundary Monument in the distance.

"As soon as we set foot on Xiazhou's borders, we won't have to be slaughtered like beasts in that sunless Qi State weapons overseer, at the hands of those lofty Great Clans."

Song Lao Han strained to pull his right leg out of the snow pit, then pressed the oil‑cloth bundle on his chest—filled with ancestral blacksmith blueprints and molds—tight against his torso, as if protecting the world's most priceless treasure.

"Even if this old man meets his end in this ice‑bound wasteland, we must never let our blacksmithing craft be cut off by those Qi State dog officials who don't even regard craftsmen as humans."

He lifted his face, scarred with knife‑like wrinkles, and his murky eyes blazed with a maddened resolve that erupted like a jade‑and‑stone conflagration after being driven to a dead end.

"If the recruitment decree from Xiazhou's Chen Zhuguo is truthful, even if this old man sacrifices his hands to the point of ruin, he will use the lifetime of hard‑won skill to carve a grand path where craftsmen across the world can live like proper people."

Meanwhile, within the military capital Jinyang of Qi State, a shabby tavern corner that leaked wind on all sides and reeked of low‑grade mash was also staging a rupture of those trying to break free from the shackles of fate.

A handful of poor‑origin scholars, dressed in faded coarse‑cloth robes and brimming with knowledge yet stripped of official prospects by the Great Clan system, gathered around a leg‑less, dilapidated square table, weeping before the wall‑hung, surreptitiously torn Great Zhou 'Recruitment and Talent‑Flow Decree'.

Leading them, the scholar Pei Qing's eyes were blood‑red; he lifted the cracked, coarse‑porcelain wine bowl before him, drained the bitter, cloudy low‑grade wine in one gulp, and the spicy liquid surged down his throat, stirring the frustration of his untapped talent that had been suppressed for over a decade.

"Better to be a foot‑soldier for Xiazhou than a Great Clan dog of Qi State."

Pei Qing thrust his arm, smashing the coarse porcelain bowl hard onto the hard Qingshi floor; the crisp shattering sound exploded through the quiet tavern, startling the nearby patrons who turned their heads.

He reached into his chest, unhesitatingly pulling out the tattered household registration document that symbolized a low‑status Qi State civilian, grabbed its edges, and with a harsh tearing sound ripped it into worthless shards that littered the ground.

"To hell with aristocratic bloodlines; we've spent years studying the sages, only to become shoe‑carrying slaves for ill‑literate noble scions in this Jinyang city?"

The surrounding poor‑origin classmates, seeing the registration fragments on the ground, felt the rebellious spirit suppressed by the feudal lineage ignite, and each tore their own household registers to pieces.

"Brother Pei is right; at worst we risk our lives. Let's band together and leave the city tonight, seek out Xiazhou's Chen Zhuguo, and use our knowledge to fight for a future where we can stand upright as men."

This terrifying exodus of talent, sparked by a single decree, surged like a breached dam, an unstoppable force that ripped everything in its path, wildly flooding back toward the Great Zhou border of Xiazhou.

The scene unfolded like a grand historical scroll, instantly shifting to the massive Zhaoxian Tai erected outside Xiazhou City overnight to welcome talent from across the world.

The Zhaoxian Tai was surrounded by dark‑colored tiger battle flags fluttering in the wind; in the cold breeze, Chen Yan wore a dark‑gold Great Cloak sewn from hundreds of premium purple mink furs, sitting on the broad tiger‑skin throne like a young emperor ruling the world.

Xiazhou Deputy Governor Zhang Wenqian, clad in heavy official robes, led several hundred capable clerks temporarily drafted from the prefectural office, sitting before the makeshift long wooden desks beneath the high platform, fervently conducting meticulous registration of the tidal wave of incoming talent.

Hundreds of thousands of Liuren formed an endless, black‑dense sea around the Zhaoxian Tai; the venue roared with clamor, yet under the strict guard of the Mingjing Embroidered Attire Envoy's forest of swords and spears, order remained shockingly disciplined.

With the help of his three apprentices, Song Lao Han gingerly stepped onto the red‑carpeted steps of the Zhaoxian Tai; his tattered straw sandals creaked on the wood, and he was so nervous his palms sweated a sticky film.

He approached the wooden desk where Zhang Wenqian sat, his knees buckling as he knelt hard on the board, his trembling hands unfastening the oil‑cloth bundle warmed by his body, and produced a strange metal object that glimmered with a cold, eerie light.

"I, humble Song 'Big‑Head', escaped death at the Qi State weapons overseer and now kowtow to Lord Chen Zhuguo."

Song Lao Han lifted the object high above his head; his deep voice trembled with uncontainable excitement and hope for an unknown fate, his rough hands shaking uncontrollably in mid‑air.

"I'm uneducated, only a blacksmith; this three‑pronged armor‑piercing spear is ten years of my effort, capable of easily penetrating two layers of thick, seasoned leather armor from a hundred paces. I hope Lord Chen Zhuguo will not despise my humble craft."

Seated aloft, Chen Yan heard the words; his dark, deep eyes instantly flashed a unabashed burst of fervent light, and he strode down the steps, his Great Cloak flapping in the wind.

Chen Yan ignored the foul sour stench on the other's body, reached into Song Lao Han's grime‑covered palm, and lifted the heavy three‑pronged arrowhead, slowly rubbing his fingers along its razor‑sharp edge, feeling the terrifying penetration capable of tearing Iron Armor.

"Bring a fine double‑layer leather Shield."

Without turning his head, Chen Yan let out a thunderous command; the nearby Personal Guard instantly seized a heavy infantry tower shield and sprinted forward, planting it steadily five steps away.

He drew a powerful bow from the armory, nocked the three‑pronged arrowhead onto the string, his broad back muscles flexing, and with a sharp creak of the bow, he drew it back to a full moon‑like stretch.

"Let me see whether you, a Qi State craftsman, have the guts to eat Xiazhou's provisions."

Chen Yan sneered, his fingers on the bowstring released without warning; a 'boom—' rang out as the three‑pronged arrowhead turned into an invisible black streak, tearing the air with a wildly violent gust.

"Crack!" a sharp, brittle sound rang.

The thick leather Shield, touted as able to resist Qi State standard crossbows, was shredded instantly like fragile paper by the arrow's ferocious penetration; half of the metal arrowhead protruded from the shield's rear, trembling slightly in the cold wind.

Chen Yan tossed the powerful bow to a nearby Personal Guard, let out a hearty laugh that echoed across the wilderness, then he yanked the kneeling Song Lao Han off the cold wooden board.

"What a fine weapon against broken armor; such devilish craftsmanship would be a waste in the hands of those Qi State clumsy idiots."

Chen Yan turned, facing the tens of thousands of Liuren stretching their necks below; his voice, imbued with Qi Refining, boomed clearly across every corner of the Zhaoxian Tai.

"By my decree, from now on the lowly household registration of Song Lao Han's entire family in that rotten Qi State shall be abolished."

He pointed at the incredulous old craftsman before him and, without hesitation, issued the world‑shaking, class‑defying reward, each word striking like a hammer shattering the Great Clan system.

"Before tens of thousands of you, I officially appoint Song 'Big‑Head' to the Seventh‑rank Military Equipment Supervisor of Great Zhou, with a regular court salary, an additional grant of one hundred taels of gold, and a grand mansion in Tongwan City for his residence."

When those words were spoken, the Liuren crowd beneath the Zhaoxian Tai fell into a brief, terrifying silence; then a frenzy of sound, like a landslide‑tide, erupted, countless craftsmen hugging each other in tears, wildly kowtowing toward Chen Yan.

Such a thousand‑gold‑for‑a‑horse‑bone extreme, god‑like maneuver drove the recruitment atmosphere to the very peak of madness.

At this moment, the rag‑clad poor scholar Pei Qing strode across the crowd, his back as straight as a pine, his steps firm as he reached the high platform's center, pulling a heavy bamboo scroll written in his own blood from his sleeve and presenting it respectfully.

"I, humble Pei Qing, lack the strength to lift a chicken, yet I possess the 'Ten Strategies to Subdue Qi State's Aristocracy and Fill the Great Zhou Treasury'; I wish to offer this plan to the Pillar, using it as a stepping‑stone to earn an honest official's stipend in Xiazhou."

Chen Yan unfurled the bamboo scroll, scanning the pearl‑like, venomous schemes that pierced Qi State's political soft spot; his arrogant grin widened, and without hesitation he folded the scroll back into his palm.

"If you have the courage to level the world, I will grant you the soaring ladder to fulfill your ambition."

He swept his large sleeve, pointing at the poor scholar, and the subversive appointment rang out again in the wind.

"From today onward, you are the duly appointed County Deputy of Xiazhou Prefecture, tasked with managing the ten‑thousand mu of newly opened farmland thirty li outside the city; I'll see how, without the aristocratic gate, you poor‑origin pillars can hold up a vast sky in these chaotic times."

The dual‑track scene, with a brutally cold transition, instantly cut back to the Jinyang imperial palace hall in Qi State, perpetually shrouded in intrigue and decadence.

Now, in this golden‑and‑jade splendored hall, the relaxed enjoyment of music and dance is gone; the oppressive Air Pressure, suffocating enough to choke ordinary people, presses the civil and military officials so tightly they dare not even draw a breath.

Qi State Emperor Gao Ying's face was as grim as the water before a storm, and he sat upon the pure‑gold Dragon Throne that symbolized supreme power; the priceless sheep‑fat jade wine cup, a tribute from the Western Regions, was already crumpled in his hand, riddled with fine cracks.

On the golden bricks beneath the hall, covered with Western Regions' red carpet, an eight‑hundred‑li express messenger who had just galloped three post horses to death trembled violently like sifted chaff, cold sweat mingling with ice and snow streaming over his forehead, daring not to lift his head at all.

Qi State General Ku Di Gan's flesh‑filled face was a steely blue, his blood‑veined eyes filled with extreme horror and despair; he hurried out of the generals' ranks and knelt heavily on the jade steps.

Ku Di Gan's trembling hands raised a top‑secret report, soaked with snow and containing detailed data on the frantic population loss from the eight border commanderies of Qi State, high above his head; his throat emitted a mournful, dying‑beast howl.

Your Majesty, that Xiazhou bandit Chen Yan has introduced a Poison policy that cuts off descendants!

Ku Di Gan's voice, hoarse and split from the extreme, burning fire raging in his heart, rang out in the great hall as he freely denounced the terrifying disaster that could bring Qi State to ruin and extinction, each word dripping with the blood of Qi State's destiny.

"That scoundrel has been recruiting artisans and low‑born scholars en masse; now the eight border commanderies of Qi State are already nine‑in‑ten empty, the Arms Bureau's hundreds of top master smiths have fled seventy to eighty percent, and even the low‑born students rejected by aristocratic families flee in crowds like fish crossing a river."

He banged his head heavily against a golden brick, crying out with voice and tears as he denounced the bottomless dual plunder of economy and talent.

"Chen Yan, that reckless child who knows not life nor death, is basically wielding a soft knife, actively carving at the ancestral tomb of Qi State's foundation."

Gao Ying, upon hearing the shocking, horrifying figures of population loss in the report, felt the violent flame of humiliation and fear in his chest finally break loose; he rashly exerted force, and with a "Bang" the sheep‑fat jade wine cup in his hand shattered to pieces.

Sharp jade shards instantly sliced the privileged hand of this Qi State emperor, the crimson blood dripping from his fingertips onto the Dragon Desk, yet he, like a mindless beast, remained oblivious, only finally realizing how chilling Chen Yan's bloodless "Plan to Cut Off the Heirs" truly was.

Such a method, which can drain Qi State's lifeblood from its roots without a single soldier, is a hundred times more terrifying than Chen Yan leading a million Iron Armor troops to assault Jinyang, aiming to completely sever Qi State's manpower and armament supply.

Extreme fear, pressed by the desperate situation, instantly gave birth to a madness of extreme, heart‑less lunacy.

Gao Ying's once fairly upright, sinister face now twisted wildly; he suddenly rose, ignoring the blood flowing from his hand, and pointed at His Highness's ministers to issue a final edict saturated with a strong scent of blood and a meaning of mutual destruction.

"Transmit my command: immediately awaken the Shadow Agency for me, and unleash all those reckless Suicide Warriors."

His voice, poisonous as a wailing demon, echoed around the great hall's vaulted ceiling, delivering a no‑holds‑barred assassination order to the secret agency hidden in the darkest corner of Qi State.

"Have them disguise themselves as starving refugees, and by any means, infiltrate the refugee camp of tens of thousands outside Xiazhou Chengwai."

Gao Ying clutched the armrests of the Dragon Throne with both hands, his nails scraping a harsh sound against the pure‑gold filigree, his eyes flashing with a vengeful glare that seemed to want to drag the entire Xiazhou into the Nine‑dark Abyss.

"Even if we pour out all the Poison we brought, even if we wipe out the last person, I must still completely annihilate the nascent population base of Xiazhou, turning it into a barren white land with not a blade of grass left."

A silent, deadly, terror‑filled spy‑war cloud, involving the pinnacle of espionage between the two nations, accompanied by the Qi State emperor's mad edict, instantly surged across the long border line, bearing suffocating blood‑soaked murderous intent toward the skies over Great Zhou's Xiazhou.