Chapter 97: Reactions from All Sides

The capital, Wenyuan Pavilion.

The Grand Secretary of Duyu, who had nearly been killed by last night’s explosion, appeared before them, supported by his son.

Yet his complexion had deteriorated significantly compared to before.

“I know what you want to say, but at this moment, what we must do is stabilize the situation.

All other matters will be addressed only after things have calmed down.

Especially you, Lord Lu—during this period, you must keep a tight watch on the Censorate and prevent them from causing trouble.

If anyone stirs up trouble, show no mercy—have the Embroidered Uniform Guard arrest them immediately.

The more critical this moment is, the less we can afford to be soft—everything must serve the stability of the court!”

Song Haidong spoke with lethal intent.

To become Grand Secretary of the Cabinet, one must possess extraordinary abilities.

His usual demeanor as a kind old man was merely due to his advanced age and his desire to avoid further turmoil.

Not wanting to act is not the same as being incapable—when he makes up his mind to act, he remains the same decisive, ruthless Grand Secretary of the empire.

Repeatedly emphasizing stability was clearly a declaration of resolve to all factions.

Even if he were frail, on the verge of death, as long as he lived, he was still the most powerful elder in Duyu.

“Grand Secretary, rest assured—we will spare no effort to stabilize the court!

I’m sure Lord Lu will not disappoint us.”

As Lu Shou spoke, Lu Zhifan was stunned.

What merit did he have to be named by two Cabinet elders within a single day?

If he dared utter a single refusal, he doubted he’d walk out of this room alive.

“Both Senior Ministers, rest easy—I will spare no effort!

Anyone who dares to cause trouble at this time is surely a traitor—I will fight such disloyal, unfilial scoundrels to the death.”

Lu Zhifan’s declaration silenced many officials who had harbored ambitions.

Power struggles matter, but only if one can survive.

The stance of these elders made it clear: whoever stirs up trouble will be killed first.

Risking oneself now was simply too dangerous.

Countless eyes turned to the Deputy Grand Secretary, Pang Hengsheng—under the current circumstances, those with the strongest motive to stir chaos were the Pure Stream faction.

As the losers of the last political struggle, a reshuffling of power best served the interests of the Pure Stream faction.

“Not only the Censorate, but the Imperial Academy must also be closely monitored.

Provincial academies likewise require tighter control.

After such a disturbance, those ambitious men will surely grow restless.

These young students are most easily misled— we cannot let them fall into error.

I propose, in the name of the Cabinet, issue edicts to all provincial school superintendents, ordering them to strictly discipline all students.

Anyone who dares to speak on state affairs shall have their scholarly degrees revoked and be permanently barred from office!”

Pang Hengsheng’s move stunned countless people.

The scholar-officials of the provinces were the backbone of the Pure Stream camp; in past factional struggles, they had been vital tools.

For a Pure Stream elder to voluntarily demand restraint on students was unprecedented.

After a brief moment of shock, everyone quickly understood.

The greater good comes first!

No matter how good the opportunity, as Deputy Grand Secretary, Pang Hengsheng’s foremost duty was the empire’s stability.

If he failed at this, not only would the Emperor never forgive him, but even the enlightened officials in court would kill him first.

Duyu had nurtured scholars for generations—this single explosion would not change hearts.

…

News of the capital’s upheaval reached Yangzhou at the fastest possible speed.

Upon hearing the horrific news, Li Mu froze in shock.

What kind of explosion could produce such devastating power?

Even if all the gunpowder in Duyu were gathered in the capital and detonated in a sealed chamber, it might not cause such destruction.

It was almost certainly not man-made—if anyone possessed such power, overthrowing the dynasty would be effortless.

“Marquis, as long as His Majesty is unharmed, everything will pass!”

Li Mu forced back his shock and stepped forward to comfort him.

The full extent of the damage from the explosion had yet to be tallied.

But from the information gathered so far, both the meritorious nobility and the imperial in-law factions had suffered heavy losses.

The eunuch and civil official factions had also sustained significant losses, but their base was large enough to absorb replacements.

The meritorious nobility and imperial in-laws, who relied on bloodline succession, could not—training talent was already difficult; losing another wave was a crushing blow.

For the group, it was catastrophic; for the individual, it was an opportunity.

In officialdom, every post is a single pit—when vacancies open above, others must fill them.

More positions mean less competition.

As for the resulting power imbalance, that was a matter for the great ones to handle—it had not yet reached his level as a mere Battalion Commander.

“It’s not that simple. A sudden celestial disaster will inevitably trigger nationwide unrest.

I had hoped that after reforming the salt monopoly in the Two Huai regions and plugging the court’s fiscal deficit, we could usher in a golden age.

But now it seems unlikely—this Tianyuan reign has truly been plagued by calamity!”

The Marquis of Wuyang sighed.

Emperor Tianyuan had inherited a ruined state from the moment he ascended the throne.

Through a series of political maneuvers, he had pulled Duyu back from the abyss, just one step away from the Tianyuan Revival.

Unfortunately, heaven had turned against him, unleashing this sudden disaster.

In an age that revered the resonance between Heaven and humanity, droughts and floods were blamed on the emperor’s moral failings—how much more so this explosion in the capital?

Compared to its impact on public sentiment, the direct damage from the explosion was secondary.

The court’s focus henceforth would no longer be reform, but how to consolidate its rule.

“Marquis, we are powerless to act on the capital’s affairs for now.

Let us instead concentrate our efforts on resolving the Two Huai salt monopoly issue.

I suspect that at this moment, both Left Eunuch Gong of the Office of Imperial Secretariat and Grand Secretary Xu Wenyue wish to return to the capital as soon as possible to restore order.

Now is the best time to negotiate salt reform with them—they will be most willing to reach agreement quickly.

Complete the task swiftly, and we can all return with honor!”

Li Mu advised.

Every word was heartfelt—as an official of Duyu, he sincerely hoped the court could reverse its decline.

The people asked little of the court—only that their rulers not recklessly cause turmoil.

Occasionally executing a few corrupt officials to vent public anger would be even better.

All of Duyu’s current problems, big and small, ultimately boiled down to one word: money.

Feeding the vast bureaucracy required money; the Nine Frontiers were voracious money pits.

Solve the money problem, and half the rest would resolve themselves.

The damage done could be gradually faded by time.

As long as the court remained strong, public sentiment would not shift.

If all else failed, blame the eunuch faction.

After all, their reputation was already the worst—they couldn’t care less if it grew worse.

“You’re right—I can’t afford to sit idle any longer.

Grand Secretary Xu Wenyue sent me an invitation a few days ago, but I declined due to the recent ban on banquets issued to prevent plague.

I wanted to set an example, so I did not accept his invitation.

Now that the situation has changed, I’ll send word to him in reply—and you will accompany me.”

Hearing the Marquis’s words, Li Mu’s head spun.

So all this time, these two public enemies had been in secret contact.

“Setting an example”? Pure nonsense.

They simply hadn’t reached an agreement on interests, so direct meetings were inconvenient.

In Duyu, when great men chose to meet, it was itself a political statement.

Real negotiations always happened behind closed doors—most of the time, their private secretaries did the back-and-forth wrangling.

When great men showed up in person to negotiate, it was usually just for show, meant to impress those below.

“Marquis, wouldn’t it be inappropriate for me to go?”

Li Mu asked nervously.

He, a mere Battalion Commander, had no standing to attend such a high-level gathering.

Though in the capital he had accompanied his uncle to meet many powerful figures, those had been family friend gatherings.

Alongside him had been other young scions of meritorious families.

The people he mingled with were roughly his own age—his only goal was to become familiar to the elders’ eyes.

As a subordinate, being taken to such a high-level gathering carries more than ordinary significance.

“Stop wasting words—just go where you’re told and follow along.”

This time, you represent the Townfar Marquis House.

When you return, write to your uncle and tell him: the debt I owed him, I’ve just paid it off!”

The Wuyang Marquis snapped impatiently.

With upheaval in the capital, his thoughts were no longer on Yangzhou.

For an imperial relative like the Wuyang Marquis, the Emperor and Empress Dowager in the palace came first.

Even if his own household suffered heavy losses in the explosion, it paled next to the slightest danger to those two.

As long as his patron remained, he was the honored imperial uncle.

Bringing Li Mu along was partly to repay a debt, but mainly because he needed someone to strategize for him.

In political maneuvering, the Wuyang Marquis did not consider himself a match for a Grand Secretary.

He did have some talent around him, but these men always tiptoed around him, terrified of saying the wrong word.

Taking them to meet Grand Secretary Xu, he guessed they’d be crushed by the man’s presence before they even spoke.

…

Inside the yamen.

“Impossible!”

“This can’t be true!”

Xu Wenyue hurled the letter to the ground, still unable to believe it.

A massive explosion nearly wiped out the Da Yu dynasty—it sounded like a fairy tale.

“Grand Secretary, no one would dare speak such nonsense.”

Hou Huaichang gently reminded him.

The grief of losing a son, compounded with political upheaval—double blows that no one could easily accept.

Yet one must ultimately face reality.

Especially during a power realignment, the sooner you react, the greater your advantage.

Compared to those who perished in the explosion, those of us who left the capital early are the lucky ones.

“Heaven does not favor Da Yu!”

Xu Wenyue’s lament sent Hou Huaichang into a panic.

Such treasonous words were not to be spoken lightly.

Though inwardly he thought the same, some things could only be thought, never said.

“Grand Secretary, watch your tongue!”

Hou Huaichang hurriedly urged.

He was terrified—afraid Xu Wenyue, overcome by grief, might utter something even more shocking.

“Relax—I haven’t lost my mind.

Send word to the capital: hold the funeral for my son. Don’t wait for me!

As for court affairs, let me rest for now. We’ll discuss them tomorrow.”

Xu Wenyue spoke with a face full of sorrow.

He had more than one son, but the one who died was the most capable.

He had earned the juren degree at a young age; obtaining the jinshi degree in a few years would have been natural.

For a family like his, a degree alone meant nothing—it was character and conduct that mattered.

In this regard, his eldest son had inherited his legacy.

Taking the Xu family to new heights might be unrealistic, but preserving the family’s wealth and status was enough.

Twenty years of careful cultivation—now all gone.

For a moment, he felt utterly drained—but he recovered quickly.

To rise to the pinnacle of officialdom, Xu Wenyue was a man of iron will, not easily broken.

The dead are gone; the living must go on.

…

Huai’an Prefecture.

“Pack your things—I’m returning to the capital!”

Zuo Guang’en said grimly.

The Emperor’s severe injury was, to him, the sky falling.

In his view, no matter how important the Two Huai salt reforms were, they were a mere fraction compared to the Emperor’s health.

For civil and military officials, even if the Emperor changed, their posts remained the same.

But eunuchs were different—it was truly one emperor, one set of ministers.

Among the officials, many were veterans of two or even three reigns; some lived long enough to become veterans of four or five.

Yet no eunuch had ever been known to serve across multiple reigns.

If lucky enough to serve a benevolent Emperor, they might be granted a quiet post in retirement.

But if faced with a ruthless ruler, these senior eunuchs were always the first to be purged.

“Father, we can’t leave now!

You’re the Imperial Commissioner—by protocol, you cannot return to the capital without an imperial edict until your mission is complete.”

The young eunuch nearby hurriedly pleaded.

The Emperor’s accident had left him equally frantic.

But the more urgent the situation, the more critical it was not to make a mistake.

He’d worked so hard to cling to this lifeline—he couldn’t let it slip away now.

“With this upheaval, if I don’t return to take charge, who knows what those bastards will do!”

Zuo Guang’en couldn’t help complaining.

He came south to earn a major achievement; now the achievement was nearly in hand, yet disaster struck in the capital.

Fortunately, the Tianyuan Emperor was only injured, not dead—otherwise the consequences would have been worse.

“Father, this matter is too grave. Perhaps you should summon everyone to discuss a strategy.”

The young eunuch suggested.

This affair involved far more than he could comprehend.

He had no idea how to strategize—he could only hope the senior eunuchs would take charge.

“Good point. This truly requires careful planning.

If nothing goes wrong, the Emperor’s edict is already on its way.

Knowing His Majesty as I do, he hates leaving things half-done.

He spent years laying the groundwork for salt reform—he won’t abandon it lightly.”

Zuo Guang’en nodded.

Though he longed to return to the capital immediately, the work still had to be done.

For the Emperor, the more chaos reigned, the more he must project strength.

If the salt reform succeeded, it would hold immense strategic value for stabilizing the court.

With money, troops, and moral authority, this realm would not fall apart!

With money, troops, and righteous cause, this world will not fall into chaos!

(End of Chapter)

(End of chapter)