Chapter 395: Love My Homeland, Cleanliness First

From every perspective, Felipe II was a far better choice than Antonio—his power, status, strength, wisdom, and even personal cultivation all decisively outclassed Antonio's.

Yet Xu Pan still chose Antonio over Felipe II, leaving Felipe II heartbroken—he had been so earnest, yet Xu Pan had defeated him utterly.

It was very simple: Antonio had been formally invested by the Emperor of Great Ming; Felipe II had not. That was the fundamental reason.

A single imperial edict of investiture, a set of ceremonial robes with five emblems, a golden seal symbolizing princely rank—these seemed insignificant, but to Xu Pan, they were the very foundation for spreading the new winds of Great Ming to the West.

What Xu Pan sought to welcome was never a king, but the civilizing force of the East: the Mandate of Civilization.

The task was immensely complex, with countless threads to untangle.

The first thing Xu Pan did was to make Lisbon, this coastal city, clean and sanitary. Under threat of force, the city's nobles had no choice but to tacitly permit the action; Xu Pan did not rely on their people, but instead spent ten thousand silver coins to hire a thousand vagrants to remove the filth.

Ten thousand Emperor Wanli silver coins still held immense purchasing power in the distant West; the thousand vagrants were deeply grateful, even washing the streets inside and out with clean water, scrubbing away decades of grime with stiff brushes, and clearing the clogged underground drains.

The vagrants were ready: should State Minister Xu Pan order the death of the new king, they would not hesitate.

Xu Pan was extremely satisfied, promising each of the thousand vagrants ten silver coins annually in exchange for collecting the night soil jars placed along streets and alleys—all of which Xu Pan used for composting and later farming.

These vagrants did more than just clean: each was assigned a fixed street, and any unfamiliar face would be watched closely, turning them into Xu Pan's eyes and ears. Soon, under the municipal hall's call, a grand cleanup swept through Lisbon inside and out.

The campaign "Love My Homeland, Cleanliness First" had begun.

In less than half a month, over six hundred thousand jin of garbage had piled up outside Lisbon; scavengers appeared immediately—Xu Pan didn't even need to hire them, for despite the vast, sparsely populated West, bustling Lisbon still harbored a huge population of vagrants.

These scavengers sorted the garbage: organic waste went into septic pits, recyclables were grouped by type, and truly useless items were crushed and used for paving roads. For waste collection, sorting, and management—or urban governance in general—Great Ming possessed mature experience.

As early as the Shang dynasty, piling garbage in front of one's door warranted having both hands chopped off; in the Zhou dynasty, defecating in public meant confiscation of tools and use of designated public latrines; Qin law was even harsher: littering on main city thoroughfares resulted in facial tattooing.

By the Tang dynasty, a scholar named Pei Mingli excelled at managing household affairs: he collected discarded items, accumulated them, and sold them, amassing a fortune of ten thousand taels, and was recommended as a Palace Censor, eventually rising to Minister of Rituals.

By the Song dynasty, with population growth and the rise of massive urban centers, chaotic conditions emerged—narrow alleys, streets impassable to horses. The Song Criminal Code stipulated: "Those who encroach upon streets and alleys shall be beaten seventy strokes."

A dedicated Street Office, responsible for cleanliness, sanitation, road construction, greening, and removal of illegal encroachments, now appeared in the bureaucratic structure; by Great Ming's time, the profession of street sweeper had emerged.

For managing large cities, Great Ming had rich experience: the two capitals alone housed over a million residents within inner and outer walls, not counting the suburban markets and their uncounted populations; over thirty-two cities in Great Ming exceeded one million souls.

To Xu Pan, Lisbon—a tiny town—was, even counting all unregistered thieves and vagrants, no more than 150,000 people; in Great Ming, that was merely the size of a county in the Suzhou-Songjiang region. As a Great Ming Ming Jinshi who had overseen imperial palace construction, managing a mere Lisbon was child's play.

Soon, Lisbon underwent a dramatic transformation. With spring's warmth and blossoms, the once gray city now bloomed with flowers, and bathhouses began appearing on every street corner.

These bathhouses had originally been churches.

Xu Pan was deeply obsessed with bathing—he disliked Lanqiao precisely because Lanqiao refused to bathe.

The vagrants stormed the churches, looted and smashed them, seized their valuables, forced the priests to flee, and the municipal hall then seized these churches and converted them into bathhouses.

Everyone claimed it was the new State Minister, the cunning and treacherous Eastern guest Xu Pan, who ordered the vagrants to storm the churches and steal centuries of accumulated wealth—because among the vagrants, some were clearly not vagrants: tall, strong, with booming voices.

But everyone could only say this—they dared not accuse, for they had no proof, and secondly, because the royal guard constantly paraded through the streets with arquebuses and cannons.

The vagrants were a disorganized mob; gathering them was easy, but getting them to act coherently was hard. Thus, disciplined pirates became organizers—and these pirates had long coveted the churches' wealth; seizing this opportunity, they naturally would not let it slip.

These pirates and vagrants poured their plundered wealth into gambling dens and brothels; without doubt, within half a month, Xu Pan had seized control of every gambling den and brothel—part of his military payroll recovery plan.

In May of Emperor Wanli Eighth Year, Antonio arrived in Lisbon; his five-masted ocean-going ship anchored in the harbor, yet Antonio hesitated—between the five-emblem ceremonial robe granted by the Emperor of Great Ming, and the coronation robes from the Papacy.

After much deliberation, Antonio still chose the five-emblem robe. As Marcus had said, he had already made his choice; this hesitation was merely performative. Without Great Ming's investment, he stood no chance against the mighty Felipe II.

The King of Portugal finally returned to his kingdom. As soon as he stepped ashore, Antonio could hardly believe it—was this Lisbon?!

He no longer smelled the familiar stench, but the fragrance of flowers! Lisbon had been utterly transformed—even its people looked different.

Clean. Sanitary.

The people of Lisbon warmly welcomed their new king. The coronation ceremony had one regret: traditionally, the Papacy sent a cardinal to the palace to crown the new monarch. This time, Chen Chen Dazhuang pulled the carriage; the symbol of royal authority, the crown, was replaced by the miu crown, placed upon Antonio's head by Xu Pan.

The Lisbon commoners knew nothing of Xu Pan or the Eastern world; to them, Xu Pan, a Great Ming Ming Jinshi, was equivalent to a Western bishop—a misunderstanding, though not entirely wrong, it was utterly misplaced.

Amid horns, drums, music, and revelry, the new king's first decree was to expel the Archbishop of Portugal, Lanqiao Farnese. This decision made Xu Pan frown—it was clearly Antonio's own, and sudden.

Expelling Lanqiao Farnese was Antonio's revenge: when he had been abbot of the monastery, he occasionally discussed life with nuns—until Lanqiao persuaded the old king Henry to banish him to the endless sea. Now that he had returned as king, Lanqiao was the first to be punished.

Xu Pan did not interfere with Antonio's revenge, presiding over the grand ceremony until its end.

"Here is the map of Portugal. Though crude, it is fully sufficient now," Xu Pan said with a smile, standing before a rudimentary map. He had already offered many congratulations; now that the throne was secured, further flattery was unnecessary.

"Ascending the throne is not the end—it is only the beginning of war. Those well-dressed, courteous nobles still watch, waiting to see who will win this struggle for the crown. As long as their status and interests are preserved, they care little who sits on the throne." Xu Pan's long wooden rod pointed to the Strait of Gibraltar: "The key lies here."

"Felipe's army is formidable: over seventy-five percent of his tercios are arquebusiers, supported by war wagons, shield-bearers, and spearmen for close combat. For weak Portugal, countering such formations is nearly impossible. Fortunately, due to mountains and terrain, Felipe's land invasion routes are limited to only four—all long, arduous expeditions."

"Thus, the sea route becomes Felipe's only viable option."

Marcus admired Xu Pan's vast knowledge and administrative experience, but from a military standpoint, he believed Xu Pan was wrong. After a moment's thought, he interrupted: "A land invasion is still possible—and we cannot stop it."

Xu Pan smiled: "I am not skilled in warfare, but a land expedition demands countless men, materials, and funds—its cost is enormous. Did I not say? Our sole goal is to make Felipe believe it is not worth it."

"If he invades by land, we cannot resist—so we simply surrender and return to the sea as pirates. This is, after all, a high-stakes gamble."

If he is willing to pay such a heavy price to invade by land, why not simply submit?

The cost of a land invasion is immense: beyond the logistical nightmare, one must capture town after town and fortress after fortress. In a nation with widespread resistance, a land campaign becomes a protracted war, plagued by endless insurgents—this is precisely why Portugal has not yet been absorbed, and why Felipe chose marriage over conquest.

Felipe did not wish to pay an exorbitant price for governance.

In contrast, launching a naval assault directly on Lisbon, forcing Antonio to abdicate, was unquestionably the cheaper option.

Antonio studied the map, pondered a moment, then nodded: "Since we cannot stop it, we might as well leave it undefended and concentrate all defenses on the sea. I fully agree with this direction."

Xu Pan's rod pointed toward the Free City: "The Free City still has ten five-masted ocean-going ships. Once Felipe II's Invincible Armada passes through the Strait of Gibraltar, the Free City's fleet will not come to reinforce Lisbon—it will enter the Mediterranean, destroy coastal ports, and force Felipe II's navy back into the Mediterranean."

A variation of the "Besiege Wei to Rescue Zhao"—attack where the enemy must defend.

"Once Felipe II's navy retreats to the Mediterranean, how will the Free City fleet withdraw?" Marcus frowned. The plan sounded sound, but the flaw was enormous: the Free City fleet had no means of retreat.

Xu Pan exhaled a long breath: "They have completed their mission. That is their purpose."

"This…" Marcus understood: it meant sacrificing the entire fleet. This Easterner remained as ruthless as ever—this would maximally devastate Spain's coastal ports, forcing Felipe II to pay a heavy price.

Marcus asked, puzzled: "But after the Free City fleet is gloriously sacrificed, how will we defend against Felipe II's next attack? Such a loss will surely enrage him—he will launch a full-scale assault."

Xu Pan acknowledged Marcus's concern and replied calmly: "The trade convoy and envoys have already departed for Great Ming, pleading for the Emperor's mercy and requesting more ships to rebuild the Free City fleet, restoring the pincer strategy."

"If time permits, by the time Felipe II, enraged, launches his next attack, we will have restored the Free Fleet's strength and destructive power—and the Prince can secure his throne. If not, we have lost the gamble."

Betting small against great is always a gamble—and nine out of ten such gambles end in defeat.

Antonio ultimately accepted Xu Pan's plan, for he had no better option. Moreover, such a strategy required swift and smooth information flow—and the ten three-masted hydrofoil sailing ships from Great Ming became the irreplaceable tool for communication. This was a war of unequal strength; the only lifeline, the only chance of survival, lay in intelligence.

Xu Pan soon realized Antonio was not a competent ruler—he was extremely lazy. This laziness had two causes: first, his temperament—he had grown weary of governance after years at sea, always thinking killing was the cleanest solution; second, Antonio was simply inept at administration. The tedious, disorganized affairs of state made him more irritable, so he delegated everything to the State Minister.

Felipe II was a tyrant, but he was tireless, writing over four thousand letters annually to officials across his realm. Antonio barely glanced at two. He had little interest in bureaucratic construction.

In May of Emperor Wanli Eighth Year, a Spanish delegation arrived in Lisbon. The envoy was still the court secretary and apothecary Solen. Solen was astonished by Lisbon's transformation and grew even more impressed by Xu Pan's abilities.

At the Sintra Palace, Solen met Antonio, now king.

Standing on the Swan Hall's floor, Solen glanced around, occasionally picking up a porcelain piece to examine closely. He looked up at Antonio with a smile: "Captain, you've donned splendid robes—you look like a noble king. But to me, you resemble a monkey in a street circus. I come bearing my sovereign's decree: my sovereign does not recognize your legitimacy as king, and the Papacy also expresses displeasure over your expulsion of the archbishop."

"Oh, I know—you've gained recognition and support from the King of France and the King of England. But their support means nothing to my sovereign."

Marcus drew his sword—Solen had insulted his king; Marcus would defend his king's dignity.

"Master of the Sword, please sheathe your blade. I am no match for you. I am a priest—I need not accept your duel. Please be patient and let me explain my purpose." Solen strolled calmly through the Swan Hall, speaking as he walked: "For my sovereign to recognize your kingship, and for the Papacy to crown you, it is very simple."

"My sovereign and the Papacy wish you to send an embassy to Rome to explain the reasons for the archbishop's expulsion, under the witness of the Lord, so that justice may be rendered."

"And we hope this embassy will be led by your State Minister and Plenipotentiary, Xu Pan. Not to insult you, but your band of pirates would cause greater trouble in Rome. I speak for your own good."

"My sovereign has given me a letter—a promise to you: if you send Xu Pan to Rome, once he leaves Portugal, my sovereign will immediately, through the Papacy, renounce his claim to the Portuguese throne. Spain and the Papacy will simultaneously recognize your kingship—you will become the true King of Portugal."

"Do not doubt my sovereign's promise. His honor is worth more than the Portuguese throne. What you cherish, in his eyes, is negligible."

Solen sat down, watching Antonio curiously, waiting to see his choice.

Felipe II had written a personal letter—guaranteeing, in the name of the King of Spain, that if Antonio handed Xu Pan over, the longed-for throne and recognition would be within reach.

This was no deception.

Solen used the ancient ploy of sowing discord—trying to drive a wedge between Antonio and Xu Pan. Once he laid out these terms, the ploy had succeeded. Once suspicion took root, it would inevitably bear fruit.

Even if Antonio chose to keep Xu Pan in Lisbon, any future setback would be blamed on Xu Pan.

To defeat Antonio, Felipe II did not even need to use force—it was simply a matter of power.

"Is Xu Pan so important that a tyrant would trade his claim to the throne for him?" Antonio frowned.

Solen smiled, a flicker of disdain and cunning in his eyes. The witless Antonio did not understand Xu Pan's value—he was not merely a man, but the embodiment of Great Ming's wisdom sent to the West. Xu Pan's worth lay not only in himself, but in the crystallized knowledge of millennia.

Antonio had never considered that without Xu Pan, this crumbling Portugal would be unmanageable. His immediate expulsion of the archbishop revealed his lack of depth and tolerance—he had no capacity to rule this decaying kingdom.

The death of the Pure Henry was indeed Felipe II's doing, but without the cooperation of Portuguese nobles, he could not have succeeded. Portugal had rotted to its core.

Solen sighed: "It is a long story. Lí Yashí was sent as envoy to the Far East, yet broke his lifelong vow of celibacy by marrying Anna in Great Ming. Later, Anna returned to the West with their child. My sovereign would not allow such sacrilege—he burned them alive on the pyre."

"From that mother and child, my sovereign obtained a travelogue—but without Eastern interpretation, it was incomprehensible. My sovereign is stubborn; understanding that travelogue became his obsession. Hence this exchange: since Lí Yashí had nearly become a subject of the Great Ming Emperor, only by making Xu Pan my sovereign's subject can his anger and fixation be quelled."

Solen's words, though seemingly plausible, were deeply insufficient.

To merely read a travelogue, or to avenge the betrayal of envoy Lí Yashí—was that reason enough to trade the Portuguese throne? It was capricious beyond measure.

Antonio was no sage, so Solen did not speak the truth.

The Western feudal system—"the vassal of my vassal is not my vassal"—had reached its end. As a feudal monarch, Felipe II was deeply anxious. Great Ming's structured governance stirred his longing. Spain, though powerful, lacked cohesion—a disorganized mass. Religion was one source of cohesion, money another—but religious interference in state affairs increasingly angered Felipe, and the power of money was waning.

More precisely, Felipe II's true ambition was to study Eastern experience and perfect Spain's state structure—this was more urgent than annexing Portugal.

"What choice will you make?" Solen rose, donning his pointed hat, and smiled: "I am in no hurry. I will stay in Lisbon for seven days. I hope you will have your answer by then."

"My sovereign comes with sincere intent. If war can be avoided, it is best. My sovereign dislikes war."

Solen left the Swan Hall but did not leave the palace—he went to the Chinese Hall, to see Xu Pan again.

"Dear Eastern guest, to see you again, you have become Portugal's State Minister. I see the glow of wisdom radiating from you, illuminating Lisbon inside and out. If fortune favors me, how I wish you could illuminate all of Spain—those damned rats longer than arms, fleas bigger than fingers—I've had enough!"

Lisbon's transformation made Solen breathe faster. In this city, he smelled the fragrance of blooming flowers; the clean, orderly streets gave him the illusion of walking through a heavenly kingdom.

He must bring Xu Pan back to Spain.

A mere Portugal—even if forcibly secured—yielded only five hundred thousand silver taels in annual tax, requiring costly repairs. Far better to simply take Xu Pan away.

Xu Pan smiled wryly. Solen always exaggerated. He shook his head: "I did nothing. Had you come to Lisbon seven days ago, you would have seen rats running wild through the streets. These past seven days, we merely cleared the silt from underground drains and exterminated all the rats hiding beneath."

Solen looked troubled: "Esteemed Eastern guest, I have an inappropriate request. Though impolite, I hope you will grant it: may I see your administrative documents from governing Lisbon?"

"This is no hardship." Xu Pan thought it was some great matter—he had stammered for ages over this small thing. He handed Solen a stack of organized documents.

Solen thanked him and immediately began reading carefully—studying every document, he marveled: "You are truly a genius. Your generosity is boundless—I must repay you."

Soren told Xu Pan every detail of what had transpired in the Swan Hall, then explained: "I shouldn't have told you any of this—your radiance shames me. Though my methods are despicable, I do not regret them. As a subject of the monarch, I will use every means at my disposal to bring the honored guest back to the Summer Palace."

"My monarch needs your aid, and needs the wisdom of the East. After seeing this, I am even more certain of this truth."

Who ever openly accuses the target of a divide-and-conquer scheme? But Soren did—because he knew nothing could be hidden from the wise Xu Pan.

"Soren, you are truly treacherous and cunning," Xu Pan said after hearing Soren's account—he was furious, grinding his teeth! The scheme wasn't brilliant, but it worked.

Soren replied indifferently: "Thank you for your praise, Antonio. A fool in this high-stakes gamble only needs to make one wrong choice—and he loses everything."

Xu Pan asked curiously: "My sovereign once defined social classes: hereditary nobles and princes, civil and military officials selected by merit, ancient aristocratic lineages, virtuous gentry who tilled the land and governed the people, self-cultivating farmers who lived in plenty, tenant farmers and laborers who suffered want, destitute drifters and toilers, and the lowly slaves with no security from day to day."

"The sovereign said that class is determined by how much social resource one controls."

"I came from Great Ming. After my relocation, my ability to control social resources must have declined. I truly don't understand why your monarch is so determined to have me."

Soren had little grasp of this class theory—in fact, even Xu Pan understood it only partially. This was the grand work Zhang Zhang Juzheng was writing after his Treatise on Public and Private Interests, aiming to explain societal commonalities and seek solutions.

Soren understood the question and smiled: "Your talent should not be buried in Lisbon—it should shine in the heavens."

"Let us make a wager: if Antonio chooses to let me stay, then Soren will abandon this endeavor—how about that?" Xu Pan's tentative proposal was meant to make Soren give up.

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(End of Chapter)