Chapter 393: The New Dynasty Suddenly Arrives

The real Bian Liang seemed to have plunged into an abyss overnight.

First came a sudden, heart‑rending earthquake with no warning;

Then came bad news from the southern prefectures via express horse: rivers burst their banks, flooding ravaged a thousand miles of fertile land;

The urgent report of a blizzard in the northern borders added insult to injury, the bitter cold killing countless cattle and sheep, and the frontier garrisons also suffered severe damage.

The sky remained overcast, a fine dust and an indescribable grief and panic hanging over the capital that had just lost its founding emperor.

Inside and outside the imperial palace, before the white mourning banners were fully hung, they were hastily thrown into responding to this sudden, unprecedented disaster.

The Hall of Purple Harmony has now become the place where the new emperor, Chen Hong, holds court and conducts affairs.

In just one night, this young heir apparent seemed to have been forced to mature ten years.

He wore hastily altered mourning robes, sitting rigidly on the still unfamiliar dragon throne, his face showing only a calm, water‑like solemnity, while deep in his eyes lay fatigue and pressure he could not fully conceal.

He knew his father had not truly departed, but was protecting the empire in another way.

But precisely for that reason, he could not show the slightest retreat; he must bear this visible burden alone, and not betray the weighty trust and responsibility placed in him.

Your Highness, the civil and military officials likewise wore plain clothes, their faces mixed with grief for the late emperor, fear of the heavenly disaster, and scrutiny and doubt about the new ruler's ability.

"Your Majesty!"

The Minister of Revenue stepped forward, his voice anxious.

"The earthquake affected seven counties in the capital region, countless houses collapsed, many are displaced, urgently needing funds and grain for relief and temporary shelters!"

"Your Majesty!"

The Vice Minister of Works then presented his report, his tone grave.

"Multiple sections of the Yellow River's dikes have collapsed; the regions of Yu and Lu have become marshes, with millions of disaster victims! We must urgently allocate materials and conscript laborers for emergency repairs!"

"Your Majesty! Urgent report from the northern borders: blizzards block roads, supplies are difficult, unrest may arise! Please quickly send warm supplies and grain fodder for support!"

Bad news came one after another, like heavy stones continually striking the young emperor on his throne.

Chen Hong's hand on the armrest, his knuckles whitening from the force.

This all‑encompassing calamity, this upheaval shaking the foundations of the state, clearly point to one cause—the terrifying price exacted by the father emperor's defiant act of reversing fate.

He drew a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.

In his mind flashed his father's usual teachings, and the past strategies of Minister Zhang, Minister Wang, and others in handling disasters.

"Issue my orders."

His voice sounded, carrying a hint of deliberately suppressed hoarseness, yet unexpectedly without panic.

"Effective immediately, establish a Disaster Relief and General Administration Bureau, led by… by Me personally, with all ministers cooperating."

"Ministry of Revenue, immediately inspect all storehouses and treasuries, prioritize securing relief funds and grain, while urgently requisitioning from unaffected prefectures;"

"Ministry of Works, fully organize repairs of river dikes and official roads, conscript artisans from everywhere, sparing no cost;"

"Ministry of War, deploy nearby troops to assist localities in maintaining order, guide refugees, and strictly guard against looters and rumor‑mongers taking advantage of the chaos;"

"Imperial Medical Bureau, organize personnel, carry medicines, and dispatch to all disaster areas to prevent the major epidemics that follow major catastrophes;"

"Order all prefectural and county officials to hold their posts, exert full effort in disaster relief; those who abandon their posts or are ineffective in relief shall be severely punished without leniency!"

These orders, though somewhat immature, were clear and logical, grasping the core essentials of disaster relief.

Some of the elder officials in the hall, seeing this, flashed a hint of surprise and a little reassurance in their eyes.

The new emperor appeared not entirely unprepared.

However, issuing the orders is easy, but carrying them out is as difficult as climbing to heaven.

The disaster is too widespread, the needs like a bottomless pit, while the court's resources, not yet fully recovered after the Battle of Xiongzhou, are now even more stretched thin.

Requests for aid and emergency documents from all places continued to fly into Bian Liang like snowflakes.

Chen Hong barely slept, consulting with the few senior ministers left behind, reviewing memorials, and allocating resources.

He felt an unprecedented immense pressure, almost enough to crush him.

He well knew his father and five uncles were secretly aiding him, but this visible storm must be faced and borne by him alone as the new emperor.

While he was harried, several pairs of eyes hidden in the darkness closely watched everything, and secretly exerted influence in places he could not reach.

Inside Bianliangcheng, in an underground secret room of what seemed an ordinary warehouse, covertly controlled by the Jing'an Office,

five oil lamps illuminated five faces that were much younger yet still bore the steady composure accumulated over years.

Zhang Cheng, Wang Ru, Shi Dun, Qian Gui, Zhao Lao Nian.

They had changed into ordinary coarse cloth, but their eyes were sharp and their bearing extraordinary.

"Southern grain transport has been cut off by the floods; tribute grain cannot be moved north, and the capital's grain prices have begun to fluctuate."

Zhang Cheng looked at the intelligence compiled by Qian Gui, his brow furrowed.

"We must find a way to open a temporary passage, or divert grain from the western route."

"I have ordered the old subordinates hidden in the Ministry of Revenue to present a detailed plan for using the Luo River and overland transfer—'by chance'—to the desk of the newly appointed Director of Grain Transport."

Wang Ru said softly, her methods still ruthless.

"The morale of the northern border troops is unstable; besides the heavenly disaster, petty troublemakers may take advantage to cause trouble."

Shi Dun spoke solemnly.

"I have sent reliable old subordinates carrying my secret letters to several frontier commanders to secretly pacify them and remind them to strengthen vigilance."

"The Iron Crow Army and the False Song side show no large‑scale movement for now, but small‑scale infiltration and rumor‑mongering have intensified."

Qian Gui added, his investigation network is adapting to a new, more covert mode of operation.

"We must remind His Majesty to watch court speech, strictly guarding against sowing discord."

Zhao Lao Nian then spread out several sheets of paper.

"The Ministry of Works' response to the dike breaches is still too old‑fashioned. I have devised several simple devices that use the 'vortex' principle to quickly reinforce dikes; let's see how to get them into the hands of the officials in charge of emergency repairs without leaving a trace."

The five quickly exchanged information and formulated covert assistance strategies.

They had abundant experience and covert connections, but having lost the outward aura of authority, many things they did were far more constrained than before.

In another corner of the secret chamber, Chen Wen stood still, as if merging with the shadows.

He appeared to be a youth of about twenty-seven or twenty-eight, with black hair and dark eyes, his posture upright.

But at this moment, his brows furrowed slightly.

He tried to mobilize that weak ability, only Lv. 1 (2×) remaining, hoping to sharpen his own perception, grasp the disaster situation more clearly, or speed up his analysis of the situation.

A barely perceptible ripple passed, and he felt his thoughts grow just a shade sharper, allowing him to see a certain detail of Zhang Cheng's discussion a bit more clearly.

But that was all.

This 2× effect works entirely on himself, with no leakage whatsoever.

He clearly remembered that the right to "bestow" the ability was truly unlocked only upon breaking through to Lv. 4 (16×).

But after reaching Lv. 6 (64×), each use of "bestowal" began to be subject to invisible limits, as if touching some deeper rule of this world; not only did the allocation of effect need careful budgeting, but it also triggered consumption and backlash of Fortune Momentum.

Now returned to square one, he must reacclimate to this initial stage of pure self‑strengthening.

A long‑absent, almost powerless feeling lingered in his heart.

From an emperor who commanded heaven and earth and whose word became law, he had reverted to a novice who must start from scratch with meager strength; this gap required time to adjust.

"Your Majesty," Zhang Cheng said, having finished his business, stepping forward and lowering his voice, "the new emperor's response is fairly steady, but the pressure is immense. Disasters across the regions are complex; they may not be quelled in the short term."

Chen Wen nodded, his gaze seeming to pierce the thick strata, seeing in the Purple Majesty Hall the son who stood alone in support.

"This is the trial he must undergo."

Chen Wen's voice was calm.

"What we can do is give a push at the critical point, or a pull at the cliff's edge; anything more must be done by him himself."

He paused, feeling the slow, almost imperceptible wriggle of the Growth Progress Bar within his body.

"Notify our covert lines in all provinces to prioritize guiding disaster victims to help themselves and each other, passing on some… effective experience."

This is currently the only way he can slightly expand his influence.

Relying on the loyal‑to‑the‑imperial‑family forces spread across the realm, and the tiny efficiency gain from his negligible self‑only "multiplier," he strives to preserve as much vital energy as possible.

In the open, the new emperor strains at the helm amidst the raging storm, striving to keep the imperial vessel from capsizing.

In the shadows, the former helmsman and his old comrades have become inconspicuous sailors, silently bailing out the water flooding the hold and patching the hidden cracks.

This is a silent handover, and also an inheritance forced upon them by disaster.

And everyone can feel that the gloom hanging over the nation's fortune has not dispersed with the new emperor's accession.

The backlash from the massive consumption of Fortune Momentum is only just beginning to reveal its ferocious fangs.

The road ahead remains arduous.