Chapter 806

When he heard the Kulin people demanded Ming weapons in exchange, Deng Deng Zilong's expression remained utterly calm—he knew the gold mining process would not be smooth, and the interpreter had not lied, for the Kulin had pointed at his sword multiple times, even demanding it outright.

Deng Deng Zilong's sword was an imperial gift bestowed upon him when he was enfeoffed as Shi Shi Longhou, a ceremonial object, not a weapon, inherently a symbol of status.

"Give it to them." Deng Deng Zilong calmly removed his ceremonial blade and handed it to the interpreter, agreeing on the terms of trade.

Before Dinghai, Zhenhai, Liu Pinghai, and the two cities of Da Elder Jinchi and Xiao Elder Jinchi were built, they must first maintain friendliness to prevent Kulin raids, which would slow construction—even a rammed-earth wall was a home that sheltered from wind and rain.

More importantly, the Ming knew very little about the Kulin: how many tribes or clans they had, whether they possessed any deadly weapons or poisons, or if they carried unknown diseases that could weaken Ming troops.

A sudden conflict, without fortified walls for protection, would make it a colossal joke if the Ming's Southern Ocean Fleet were driven into the sea—Deng Deng Zilong simply could not afford such humiliation.

The Ming soldiers paid little attention to the trade; instead, they followed training to set up camp.

The Ming camp emphasized strength: palisades, pits, walls ten feet high, artillery positions, watchtowers, arrow towers—all drawn from the experience of Emperor Emperor Chengzu's five personal campaigns.

No strong camp, no victory.

The trade proceeded poorly, for the Kulin demanded not only many weapons but also matchlocks, having seen the guard on the Observing Star Ship use them to kill saltwater crocodiles.

Deng Deng Zilong looked at the thirty-six-pound cannon mounted on the bow of the five-masted ocean-going vessel—what use were a few matchlocks?

Even if the Ming gave the Kulin enough matchlocks, could they use them? Had they been trained? Did they have gunpowder? Did they possess as many matchlocks as the Ming army? Did they have cannons? Did they have any combat system?

They had none of it.

But the Kulin insisted, so the interpreter sent for one matchlock—no more—and clearly the Kulin did not know how to use it; after fumbling for a long time, they failed to grasp its mechanism and finally took away the matchlock without gunpowder.

A matchlock without gunpowder was merely a firestick; the Kulin believed some special incantation was needed to summon heavenly punishment.

The Kulin handed over golden stones to the Ming troops in exchange for salt, iron pots, and various weapons, then departed joyfully.

Assistant Regional Commander Zhang Cong pointed at a crude topographical map and said gravely: "The Kulin say the Golden Plain lies nearly three hundred li west of Da Elder Jinchi and Xiao Elder Jinchi. They cannot specify the exact distance, only that it takes a full day and night's walk from here—we can only estimate."

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"General, we must hire local barbarians to scout ahead—they're excessively greedy, and we must be wary of them."

Deng Deng Zilong stared at the crude map and said gravely: "Those not of our kind must harbor different intentions. First, cultivate the surrounding wastelands and plant our seeds. The naval officers, land surveyors, and agricultural scholars must be protected—the gold mine is there, and it won't run away."

"Those not of our kind must harbor different intentions"—this was the wisdom of our ancestors; "Build high walls, store ample grain, delay proclaiming kingship"—this too was ancestral wisdom.

Ancestral wisdom always emerges when you don't know what to do, telling you: Don't fear, child—we've walked this path, and it leads through.

Protecting talent is also ancestral wisdom: Qi established the Jixia Academy, sparking the Contention of a Hundred Schools; later, Han instituted the recommendation system, drawing forth all worthy men, extending its dynasty for four centuries; Tang opened the imperial examinations, Song honored civil governance, giving rise to the Zhenguan Prosperity and the splendor of Bianjing.

Talent is the foundation of existence, the root of national prosperity; dynasties that flourish all prioritize gathering talent; wherever civilization thrives, nurturing the wise comes first.

These are lessons tested by the long river of history, refined and enduring.

Deng Deng Zilong was precisely such a conservative man, deeply trusting ancestral wisdom.

From the outset, he had been wary of the barbarians; indeed, he hoped their clans were large enough to provide ample laborers, even to unify the Han population of Elder Jinchi Governorate.

First, establish camp, build walls, reclaim land. Though rainfall was heavy, this was not tropical rainforest—the land around Elder Jinchi City remained mostly flat, with fertile fields along the Cangwu River, requiring no logging.

The Ming's expansion in Elder Jinchi Governorate had officially begun—the curtain rose, the rebel nest of Yuanxu Islands used as a sacrificial banner, the sea route fully opened, several ports identified as suitable for Ming pavilions—the Ming's expansion into Juezhou had officially commenced.

A month later, the rammed-earth walls of Da Elder Jinchi City were complete, and the land had been reclaimed, ready for gradual cultivation.

During this time, the distant outpost scouts had clarified the surroundings: the Kulin tribe consisted of three clans, the largest with thirty thousand able-bodied men, the smallest with three thousand three hundred.

"While leading a coastal patrol to investigate Brother Jinshan, we were ambushed by barbarians. Fortunately, the six men of the patrol were skilled and managed to retreat," reported Assistant Regional Commander Zhang Cong, his face grave.

Conflict had begun.

The Kulin strictly forbade Ming troops from entering the Golden Plain, for the gold mine was the sole reason outsiders came here. Though the Kulin did not understand its significance to the Ming, it was vital.

"Kill a chicken to warn the monkeys—the largest clan blocks our path to the Golden Plain, so we crush them, kill one to warn a hundred!" Deng Deng Zilong stared at the surveyed map, pointing at the entrance to the Golden Plain: "Zhang Cong."

"Your servant is here!"

"Take fifteen hundred elite troops and level this place." Deng Deng Zilong issued his order—no action unless decisive, and when he acted, it was thunder.

Had the Kulin not shown aggression, had they not attacked the Ming's distant outposts, Deng Deng Zilong would have gladly maintained longer peace, even paying goods to hire barbarians as laborers.

But the Kulin had clearly expressed their aggression—the Ming army could not coddle them.

Deng Deng Zilong always kicked the healthy leg of a cripple.

The Kulin were barbarians; compared to the Ming, they were cripples. The first military expedition of Elder Jinchi Governorate targeted the strongest leg—the largest clan.

Mining required manpower; Deng Deng Zilong's Han contingent was small—he needed laborers for mining, building official roads and relay routes, constructing walls and government workshops—these Kulin were sufficient.

Zhang Cong led fifteen hundred elite troops toward the Golden Plain. The war lasted thirteen days; the Kulin's strongest clan was utterly defeated, and the Ming army entered the Golden Plain.

In this battle, the Ming crushed the Kulin's strongest clan, located the gold mine, seized the mountain pass, and captured three thousand five hundred prisoners.

The primary objective of Elder Jinchi Governorate—the gold mine—was now in Ming hands.

The time when Zou Zou Diguang and the other offenders were escorted to the capital was the end of the tenth month of the fifteenth year of Emperor Wanli.

The northwestern wind howled, sweeping past Juyong Pass, past the smokestacks of the Western Hills Coal Bureau, past the bustling Jing-Sui Relay Road, reaching the Dragon Pond of Tonghemen, stirring ripples—the pond had already formed a thin layer of ice.

This year was another harsh winter; reports came from Suiyuan, Shaanxi, and Shanxi of blizzards, with white wind storms even appearing at Wuma Gang.

"Zou Zou Diguang!" Zhu Zhu Yijun finished Yin Yin Zongxin's memorial, his expression changed, and he sighed heavily—he had always assumed Zou Zou Diguang was dead.

Zhu Zhu Yijun shook his head: "What a waste of Marquis Yingyang Marquis's painstaking efforts! Why couldn't he remain as Great Lord of Marquis Sishui? What could I do to him? What could Marquis Yingyang Marquis, Marquis Sishui Marquis, or Shi Shi Longhou do to him!"

"Fool! To abandon his status as a scholar-official and become a sea pirate! This fate is well-deserved!"

In the Jia Sidao private market there was a virtuous official named Liu Liu Hanru; among the Jin Party, there was a core member named Fan Fan Yingqi—both were talents Zhu Zhu Yijun deeply mourned, and even today he still harbored regret.

Not only Zhang Zhang Juzheng, but Zhu Zhu Yijun himself hoped that some exiled scholar-officials might return to the right path—Zhou Zhou Liangyin was never too many.

Talent is rare; to restore the Ming's greatness, more people must advance together—many hands make light work.

Zou Zou Diguang had truly become lost in the jungles of Java—he could still be remembered as a pioneer of expansion, not as a criminal in a memorial.

"Execute him and display his head," Zhu Zhu Yijun annotated Yin Yin Zongxin's memorial. He did not send Zou Zou Diguang to the Dissection Courtyard for flaying because the courtyard was already overflowing with prisoners—he did not need another specimen, and it also preserved a shred of dignity for the scholar-officials.

Yin Yin Zongxin's memorial contained no news of Elder Jinchi Governorate. With distant waters and high skies, Zhu Zhu Yijun wished Deng Deng Zilong all success; if the local barbarians insisted on provoking the Ming army, then let them wear their three-inch dragon badges—every sin, Zhu Zhu Yijun would bear.

In Yin Yin Zongxin's memorial, there was no mention of the Elder Jinchi Viceroy's office; with heaven high and waters long, Zhu Zhu Yijun wished Deng Deng Zilong all went well, and if the local barbarians insisted on provoking the Great Ming army, then let them wear the three-inch dragon badge well—all sins would be borne by Zhu Zhu Yijun.

"This Xu Xu Chengchu." Zhu Zhu Yijun picked up a memorial. Xu Xu Chengchu had begun diligent work at the Censorate under Hence Hai Rui, uncovering a corruption case involving Song Shan, the instructor of Tianxiong Academy in Great Ming Prefecture.

Song Shan was a juren who had served as instructor at Tianxiong Academy for over eighteen years. He was poor at aligning himself, always choosing the wrong side, never promoted to county magistrate, and remained stuck in his instructor post.

Song Song Shanyong was a juren who had served as a tutor at Tianxiong Academy for over eighteen years; he was poor at taking sides, always choosing wrong, and never managed to be promoted to county magistrate, so he remained at his tutor post and carried on.

Tianxiong Academy was a government-run academy; when such academies thrived, students flocked to them, leaving private schools empty, depriving them of tuition—these private schools naturally hated Song Shan to the point of teeth-grinding, eager to eliminate him.

Moreover, the more juren and Ming Jinshi produced by an academy, the greater its reputation, and the more outstanding students would concentrate there.

Even students from Shanxi traveled hundreds of miles to study at Tianxiong Academy—soon, Tianxiong Academy truly lived up to its gate inscription: "Literary brilliance pierces the stars, scholars like forests; Confucian customs lead the land, officials as numerous as clouds."

This made him even more hated—who was Song Shan to monopolize Great Ming Prefecture's literary heritage? Some began to harass him; Song Shan, lacking political alignment, had no backing.

This made him even more hated—what right did Song Song Shanyong have to monopolize all the literary heritage of Great Ming Prefecture? Soon, people began to harass him; Song Song Shanyong, who never took sides, had no connections to speak of.

Sixteen Ming Jinshi—even if not all loyal to the throne—none were rebels, all able to aid their master; nearly a hundred juren held local power—Song Shan's life flowed smoothly.

This year, finally, a flaw was found: over these years, Song Shan had accepted bribes totaling five thousand four hundred taels of silver—mainly from students paying for admission, or from parents hoping Song would favor their children.

Over eighteen years, Song Shan had accumulated this much silver. When exposed, the local Southern Yamen could only petition the Censorate to initiate impeachment.

Meanwhile, the powerful elites of Great Ming Prefecture demanded Song Shan's immediate dismissal.

After verifying the facts, Xu Xu Chengchu confirmed the corruption was established.

Xu Xu Chengchu verified the actual circumstances and confirmed that the corruption charges were valid.

But the trouble lay here: Song Shan took silver, but did not pocket it—he used it for Tianxiong Academy: repairing classrooms, dormitories, the dining hall, digging a well, purchasing the latest wind-reversing stoves to warm students.

All five thousand four hundred taels of bribed silver—Song Shan spent not a single catty on himself!

The academy's accounts took over ten days to audit; Song Shan even added one hundred twenty taels of his own money to build a small garden on the back hill and a Rain-Listening Pavilion for students to hold poetry gatherings.

After the Censorate clarified the case, it was submitted to the emperor for annotation.

The Censorate's opinion: punishment was required—by regulation, Song Shan's degree should be revoked and his gains confiscated; but since all funds went to the academy, confiscation was waived—let him return home to live with relatives.

"Xu Xu Chengchu, you fool," Zhu Zhu Yijun said, holding the memorial. "The Censorate censors are pushing him aside—this thorny matter was dumped on him. If he doesn't act, where's his integrity? If he does, he makes enemies."

Censorate censors are meant to make enemies—it's their duty to investigate officials—but Xu Xu Chengchu clearly suffered from inexperience.

Song Shan had many disciples, and he didn't spend the silver on himself—he used it for the academy. To scholars, this was not corruption.

But the "Compendium of Statutes" clearly stated: corruption was an act—taking silver was embezzlement, regardless of use.

Punish severely, and you immediately alienate Song Shan's disciples; punish lightly, and does that mean anyone can take silver for "public business"? The boundary between public and private would blur, leading to rampant corruption and governance through bribery.

Usually, such cases—clearly unprofitable and fraught—were avoided by censors, for submitting them to the emperor was extremely troublesome: whether punishing or pardoning, the emperor's reputation suffered.

Song Shan's silver-taking was social custom; if you refused, parents would suspect you were mistreating their children; using it for public good was moral nobility—no personal enrichment, and all Ming officials acted this way—how could the Ming not prosper?

Usually, the Censorate's clerks handled such cases—returning them for re-investigation; after two returns, the localities would cease petitioning. If they truly insisted on impeachment, they could petition the Ministry of Personnel and the emperor directly.

Clearly, someone wanted to give this naive Xu Xu Chengchu a lesson in the ways of officialdom—instead of following convention and returning the local petition, they passed it to Xu Xu Chengchu.

"Scholars' cunning, applied to official duties, can accomplish anything! Idle all day, scheming and plotting—too bored? Go plant potatoes in the Shanglin Garden!" Zhu Zhu Yijun picked up his brush, thought briefly, and began his annotation:

【Song Shan accepted silver privately—his act deserves punishment; yet his eighteen years of nurturing talent—his virtue deserves recognition.】

【Order: remove him from his instructor post, retain his juren degree, appoint him as Librarian of the Imperial Academy, dedicated to refining methods of academy education.】

【Additionally, grant three thousand taels from the imperial treasury to repair Tianxiong Academy, and erect a stele listing his disciples' names in the Rain-Listening Pavilion— I do not reward his corrupt act, but I cherish his dedication to nurturing talent.】

Removing his instructor post was punishment—to uphold organizational discipline;

retaining his degree and appointing him as Librarian of the Imperial Academy was the emperor's personal clemency—a special pardon; obtaining such imperial favor was never easy—even Yin Yin Zongxin, thousands of miles away, knew the emperor loved to kill, and only by accomplishing something could one earn such honor.

The emperor paid Song Shan's three thousand taels fine on his behalf—this settled the account; the matter ended here, and it would no longer be Song Shan's stain;

erecting the stele recorded and praised this noble conduct, warning Song Shan's disciples and all scholars: good deeds will be backed by the emperor.

Whether good people receive good fortune, Zhu Zhu Yijun did not know—he only knew that when matters reached him, evil must be punished, good rewarded.

"Your Majesty is wise," Feng Bao dried the ink and handed it to a young eunuch to deliver to the Grand Secretariat for the Ministry of Rites.

Emperor Shizong once said: "Both pure and turbid streams can be used; the sovereign governs not by black or white, but by balance."

This case was a classic example of water-balancing—the emperor had tilted the bowl.

"Why do I feel I'm just here to fill space?!" Zhu Zhu Yijun suddenly stood up, staring at the memorials, his expression uncertain.

"Why do I feel like I'm just here to fill a seat?!" Zhu Zhu Yijun suddenly stood up, staring at the memorial before him, his voice tinged with shock and uncertainty.

"Huh?" Feng Bao blinked in confusion. "What's wrong?"

"Feng Feng Banban," Zhu Zhu Yijun stared at the memorial before him, dazed. "Is the world of the heavens really so different from ours, the world of mortals?"

"I'm just filling a slot," Feng Bao glanced at the memorial, recognized it as coming from the Ge Wu Academy, and immediately backed down. He could spar with scholar-officials, and with the Emperor's backing, he sometimes even strutted about.

But these monsters from the Ge Wu Academy were truly terrifying.

Sometimes, Feng Bao couldn't even understand the memorials from the Ge Wu Academy. He'd understood the first part—it said the steam engine was performing well.

The Princess Shengping No. 6 steam engine's horsepower, without added weight, had surged to one hundred and eighty, with a mid-range output of one hundred and fifty, and a minimum stable output of one hundred and thirty.

According to the Ge Wu Academy's classification, the Princess Shengping No. 6 had a rated output of one hundred and fifty horsepower, and its single-stroke design still had room for improvement; a new multi-stroke design already had a draft.

Great Ming's horsepower was steadily and orderly increasing; demand for horsepower in Great Ming had no upper limit. Before this year's New Year, six Princess Shengping No. 6 iron horses would be delivered, and by June next year, production capacity would exceed one thousand units annually.

The Great Ming Ge Wu Academy had consumed only two million taels of imperial treasury silver, yet returned immeasurable, massive gains.

The later content, Feng Bao couldn't understand—a mass of schematic diagrams and six formulas. These six formulas were empirical summaries; the wind tunnel, built at great expense by His Majesty, had yielded results.

Regarding buoyancy, sinking and floating, orifice flow, lift coefficient of glider wings, and more, what astonished the Emperor was that the Great Ming Ge Wu Academy had discovered fluid scale effects.

Simply scaling down an experiment proportionally and then scaling it back up for practical use did not guarantee identical results—there was a similarity involved.

When scaled up, perfect similarity could not be achieved; empirical corrections through practice were necessary. This was a long-term engineering problem requiring accumulated experience—the more experience, the more accurate the corrections.

"My one million taels were well spent," Zhu Zhu Yijun annotated the memorial with his vermilion brush, praising the Ge Wu scholars, urging them to press on.

The summarized formulas, empirical data, and observed scale effects seemed of little immediate use to Great Ming, yet Zhu Zhu Yijun still endorsed such research. Whether useful or not, first discover it—perhaps it would prove valuable someday.

Zhu Zhu Yijun firmly believed: Spending gold makes you stronger!

And it wasn't entirely useless—the Ge Wu Academy had designed a new propeller and transferred it to the Songjiang Ship Design Institute, where it would be tested on the Feiyun. The Feiyun had been modified repeatedly and gradually become a comprehensive experimental platform; whenever the Ge Wu scholars had an idea, they tested it on the Feiyun.

The Feiyun had long forgotten its original ambition to become Great Ming's first warship; now it continuously carried various devices for experimentation.

Spending gold truly did make you stronger—the Songjiang shipyard had also brought good news.

The Songjiang shipyard designed and built a new star-observing vessel, a fast sailboat converted for astronomical observation, capable of rapid travel: departing from Songjiang's New Harbor, it could reach Yehai City in one month and the Jifu Governor-General's office in three.

If Great Ming could find another fulcrum, this fast-sail star-observing vessel could reach Taixi for regular observation, better mapping hydrography and geography; its first destination would be Beimeizhou.

During trade with the barbarians of Beimeizhou, Great Ming sailors acquired a lump of native gold, treasured by the barbarians—but the barbarians themselves couldn't explain its origin, so the star-observing vessel would sail to Beimeizhou to investigate.

"This voyage will wait until next spring. First, observe Luzong and the Yuanxu Islands," Zhu Zhu Yijun rejected Songjiang's observation plan, still forbidding the brave fleet from sailing to Beimeizhou in winter using the North Pacific current.

The winter North Pacific was anything but peaceful—thick fogs and violent waves would devour all challengers.

The Navy believed complex interactions between the Pacific's warm current and the polar cold current and winds caused sudden, frequent outbreaks of bad weather, impossible to avoid through observation alone; one misstep, and a ship would be swallowed by the storm.

Human courage was far too small against the might of nature.

Zhu Zhu Yijun had never sailed on a sea vessel, nor had he the chance—he'd never seen waves towering dozens of zhang high, churning violently; just imagining it was perilous enough.

Chen Lin led the fleet on regular patrols of Wa Country; when crossing the seas east of Wa, he'd felt that fury more than once. Every winter, the Navy fleet sailed closer to shore to avoid getting lost or caught in storms.

The Great Ming Emperor continued handling memorials as always—never letting them linger overnight was one way to maintain the efficiency of Great Ming's bureaucracy.

Xu Xu Chengchu, just finished his shift, left the Censorate and headed for the Quanchu Guildhall. As soon as he stepped out, a group of scholar-officials blocked him.

Of Song Shan's sixteen Ming Jinshi disciples, three were capital officials, and several were juren.

"Xu Wang Yushi, what a mighty air of authority you carry!" The lead Hanlin stepped forward, shouting fiercely: "Your master cultivated students for eighteen years—when did he ever offend you? Sixteen Ming Jinshi, sixteen jade tablets standing in court; ninety-six juren, ninety-six vermilion pens holding sway over prefectures and counties!"

"What 'upright spirit'? Just a bid for fame and clean reputation."

Song Shan was their master; he knew nothing else but teaching and nurturing. Those deeply indebted to him should stand up and defend him. If Song Shan had truly embezzled, fine—but those five thousand four hundred taels of filthy silver hadn't entered his pocket even a single li!

"There are laws of the state! Taken, is taken; wrong, is wrong! If you have reason, why not wait until the grand court meeting on the third of next month, step forward with your jade tablet, and plead for the corrupt official's innocence!" Xu Xu Chengchu had never faced this before. Surrounded and cursed, he panicked, knowing only to cite state law in his defense.

"Absurd! Did the Taizu Emperor decree the Xiezhi plaque for you censors to wield like this?" A Physician stepped forward, cursing: "There are so many corrupt officials in the realm—why target only the virtuous? What logic is there in that?"

The Xiezhi plaque was the censors' waist token, symbolizing their Censorate identity and duty to investigate all officials.

"Say it again: my master received tuition fees, not filthy silver! My master is not corrupt! He is not a criminal! Why don't you ask the Great Ming Prefecture why it hasn't allocated a single li of scholarship silver to the academy in nineteen years!" Another juren living in the capital pulled out an account ledger from his sleeve and hurled it at Xu Xu Chengchu's feet, then spat fiercely.

Song Shan had been privately pardoned by the Emperor—only the guilty are pardoned; this implied Song Shan was guilty.

These men surrounded Xu Xu Chengchu and berated him endlessly; he had only one mouth and couldn't reply. After they left,

Xu Xu Chengchu's face flushed red as he picked up the ledger from the ground.

The ledger was clear: Great Ming Prefecture had indeed not allocated a single li of scholarship silver in nineteen years—all diverted elsewhere, every entry meticulously recorded.

Hence Hai Rui stood silently at the Censorate's gate, watching Xu Xu Chengchu being besieged, as if seeing his own past self.

"Is it painful? This is how doing things is—you gain one thing, lose another. The Emperor always says: there is no perfect solution in this world; everything demands a price."

"So, after this experience, will you still be the plain-clothed Wang Yushi?" Hence Hai Rui waited until the assault ended, then walked over and asked Xu Xu Chengchu: "How many hardships await you on this path?"

Xu Xu Chengchu remained silent for a long, long time, then said firmly: "I will. I chose this path—I will walk it to the end!"