Chapter 269: Master Yan Daiqing, Li Guanyi Has Come!

A letter?

Li Guanyi thought of the Young Lady of Yicheng and asked, "Where is it from?"

General Ling Pingyang smiled slightly and said, "From the south."

Not the Young Lady's letter.

Li Guanyi felt a faint disappointment—or perhaps a sharp surge of caution made the young man want to avoid this letter—but General Ling Pingyang had already taken it, and on the paper was a delicate ink drawing of a willow branch.

It's Yan Daiqing!

Yan Daiqing, a scholar from the southern Chen state, skilled in swordplay, civil administration, and fine ink brushwork, with a refined and elegant poetic style.

Especially skilled at picking up stools and brawling in groups.

Li Guanyi looked at Yan Daiqing's letter and felt the same conflicted dread as when he received a failed exam result—he had to read it, yet didn't want to—but after glancing at General Ling Pingyang, he sighed and opened the letter.

"It's surely telling me how much the south is in deficit again."

Li Guanyi thought, opened the letter, and confirmed it was indeed Yan Daiqing's clear, elegant script—but something was different: the ink was dark, indicating the southern eighteen prefectures had finally caught a breath financially.

Li Guanyi relaxed, thinking, "Not bad, Daiqing."

"I thought you only knew how to spend money—can you make money too?"

Li Guanyi relaxed, sat down, and flipped through Yan Daiqing's letter—it was written days ago, since no one knew where Li Guanyi and the others had gone in the Jianghu, so the letter had been delivered directly to General Ling Pingyang's encampment in Zhongzhou.

It reported the general situation in the southern region.

Primarily concerning civil administration, livelihood, and the Fire Qilin Army systems.

In civil administration, they selected individuals with proven work experience to fill grassroots official posts; many locals possessed exceptional specialized skills, yet these people were often locked into another form of 【hereditary occupation】.

The son of a coroner became the local coroner; the son of a jailer became the local jailer—they inherited professional expertise, but also tightly controlled these trades, built their own networks, and demanded payment or favors to get anything done.

Otherwise, you'd suffer dearly.

Some enforcers swung clubs down hard, striking with force yet leaving no bruise or wound.

Others appeared casual, yet actually shattered internal bones.

These local clerks were deeply entrenched, with powerful clans above, corrupt officials in the middle, wicked clerks below, and local bullies and village tyrants ruling the countryside.

These matters were entrusted to Xiao Zhi with great interest.

The second crop of rice had completed its second planting; farmers had taught methods to accelerate seedling root growth through 【Agricultural Learning】, and the patriarch of the Agricultural School had transmitted the 【Diagram of the Seasonal Guide to Practical Methods】 to the people.

It was an eight-layer rotating disc on a single axis.

From center to edge, they represented the direction of the Big Dipper's handle, the Heavenly Stems, the Earthly Branches, the four seasons, the twelve months, the twenty-four solar terms, the seventy-two pentads, and the corresponding farming activities for each phenological phase.

All compressed onto a palm-sized diagram.

To study vast and grand things is naturally the talent of a great sage—but the patriarch of the Agricultural School placed these agricultural principles into such a tiny space, then taught them to the people along the field ridges—this too was great talent.

With the Agricultural School providing clear direction, the germination rate of grain planted in the south rose dramatically, and together with the Mohist School, they improved farming machinery.

The curved-plow, the Mohist-modified plow that could till thirty mu per day, the three-row seeder capable of sowing three rows simultaneously, and the harvesting tool composed of the wheat basket, wheat cutter, and wheat gatherer.

On the basis of ordinary water mills, modified into the Water Wheel Triple-Function Device, capable of grinding flour, dehulling rice, and milling grain.

The Mohists and Agriculturalists discovered that a sudden influx of gold was funding their research—they were ecstatic.

They prepared to design water conservancy projects based on the southern terrain.

Mohist disciples, inspired by the Murong clan's style, created the Water Blower, using water power to drive bellows for iron smelting.

Agricultural disciples developed the Linked Mill, powered by a single ox, capable of turning eight mills at once.

Once efficacy was confirmed, they poured gold into rapid implementation.

All were practical designs meant to relieve the people from arduous labor.

These were not inventions created after their arrival in the south.

They were technologies accumulated over years before leaving the Imperial Academy—only after coming to the south, with Li Guanyi's help, could they directly apply their designs in practice.

They had not been without prior travels, like the Buddhists, Daoists, or the School of Vertical and Horizontal Alliances.

Other clans and nobles had all received excellent education.

These people would respect them, speak many pleasant, polished words, claim they truly supported and revered Mohist and Agricultural techniques, smiling with elegant grace, silk robes fluttering over their mouths and noses like butterflies.

But only here did they directly discuss the practical utility of the technology.

After debate, they simply threw money at it.

Master Pan Wanshou of the Mohist School thought of these things—he was no longer a youth, he had long grown old; even with inner energy, his second-tier inner energy was merely that—unsuited for combat.

Master Mo Pan Wanshou thought of these things—he was no longer a youth; he had long grown old, and even with internal energy, second-sky internal energy was merely that—ill-suited for combat.

Having traveled the world and seen too many gentle, kind faces, his heart had long lost the vigor of his youth—he had thought so, but now, his heart burned again.

Having traveled the land and seen many gentle, kind faces, his heart had long lost the vigor of his youth; he had thought this was how it would be, but now, his heart burned hot once more.

With the sound of machinery, a massive cloud of dust surged into the sky; a bronze mechanism burst forth from the field ridges, its metallic bronze radiating grim authority, smoke and dust spreading, the Mohist master's sleeves flapping, his beard and black robes billowing in the wind.

With the sound of mechanisms, vast clouds of dust surged into the sky; bronze mechanisms burst forth from the field ridges, their bronze steel cold and grim, smoke and dust spreading—Master Mo stood there, his sleeves whipping, his beard and black robes swelling in the wind.

So this is it—my heart has not grown old.

To realize one's dream, to fulfill one's ambition—not to be stuck in one place, not to smile falsely before lofty clans—but this feeling was utterly exhilarating.

To bring to life the technologies one had pondered for years, to transform models once confined to desks into massive, practical applications.

The Mohist master, watching the small toy he had conceived in youth now become a colossus and be put into use, looked up, seeing the colossal mechanism from his dreams materialize before him, powered by feudal-level strength, stepping onto the world.

To change this age, to save these lives—with the decades-old heat of his blood, relying on bronze-cast machinery, upon which the final component had been placed: an iron plate engraved with the Fire Qilin pattern.

To change this age, to save all living beings, with the decades-old blood boiling within him, he relied on the bronze-cast mechanisms—on which the final piece had been placed, forged by the Elder Murong clan.

Only willing to give one's life!

Master Pan Wanshou of the Mohist School whispered, "My wish is fulfilled."

Only willing to give up one's life!

Master Pan Wanshu of the Mohist school whispered, "My wish is fulfilled."

Under Jiangnan's support, the other Mohist disciples' ingenious ideas began to take shape gradually; they were deeply grateful, but every time someone mentioned thanks, the gentle, jade-like gentleman merely told them.

Making your dreams come true is also the Lord's great wish.

It is the Lord's hope; therefore, no thanks are needed.

We shall go together.

Along this path, the Lord walks ahead; comrades, follow him.

Unaware, Li Guanyi's image gradually transformed under the efforts of that outwardly gentle gentleman, becoming more aligned with the heroic mold recorded in history.

Mohist disciples—

Refreshed and invigorated!

Land to till, much land, exceptionally vast land to till.

A stretch of land as large as Jiangnan, to teach its hundreds of thousands of households how to farm.

Standing high, feeling the wind, watching seeds sprout across boundless fields, one may fully apply one's knowledge and ambitions; when the wind blows, the grain sways, and even sweat carries the scent of past candlelight.

Agricultural disciples—so exhilarated their scalps tingled!

Exempted from that year's taxes, able to rent farming tools at minimal cost, and discovering they were no longer so exhausted, with time left to listen to masters teach writing and basic martial arts—the common folk—

Good! Good! Good!

Master Yan Daiqing—

Rage filled the heavens.

Li Guanyi dared not look down; he kept thinking the Jiangnan Prefect should speak to him about finances, but never did—instead, he felt as if walking a tightrope.

Until he reached this point, Master Yan Daiqing's letter seemed to pause.

"I never expected everything was within your plan."

Li Guanyi: "Huh?"

"Yuan Zhi told me: the Agriculturalists and Mohists improve livelihoods, the Gongsun clan enhances military equipment, and the Gongsun family brings a chest of gold—surely that's your design too?"

Li Guanyi: "Huh? Huh???"

He stared at the scroll where Master Yan Daiqing wrote "Li Guanyi's plan."

Detailed, thorough, unhurried, steadily advancing, brimming with logic—all connected as if forming the strategy of a profoundly wise, premeditated, and brilliant sovereign, at least in civil administration.

Li Guanyi stared, stunned:

"Huh? Is this… right?"

"This can't be right."

"Is this me?"

Master Yan Daiqing is a genius—or rather, Yuan Zhi, Xiao Zhi, Master Yan Daiqing—each excels in their own field, yet collectively, they are all great talents, whose reasoning is exceptionally clear.

Even Li Guanyi was nearly convinced.

Master Yan Daiqing, is this really me you're describing?

The boy pondered, then cheerfully decided.

Yes! This is absolutely me!!

Yuan Zhi and Daiqing are literally my brain.

Li Guanyi's heart lightened with amusement, but as he read further, the boy's smile slowly faded—

"Since you've prepared everything…"

"Then please review the deficits that follow: when autumn floods rise, they often affect hundreds of thousands. We came here to change something—if after our arrival, the people still lose their homes to floods…"

"Then we came in vain. The Mohists have proposed basic solutions."

"Meanwhile, as per your request, schools are being built everywhere; we only hope each town has at least one public school. All is in ruins—the gold provided by the Gongsun family is no longer enough."

"Chen and Ying states each collect tens of millions of taels of silver annually."

"Chen state is rich in produce, with silver as its main currency; Ying state is vast and resource-rich, permitting taxes paid in grain and iron—its revenue is considerably less than Chen's, yet the latter also empowers powerful aristocratic clans."

"Both states pay tribute to Zhongzhou."

"My Lord, since you've foreseen everything, please use your genius to procure more silver—and we need more people who can read, know basic Wu Gong, and understand arithmetic."

"Aim for ten million taels of silver."

"If you can bring back a hundred million taels, that would be even better."

"The grand dream we seek to realize cannot be achieved with mere millions—surely you wouldn't paint this dream and then dump its burden on us?"

Generals Ling Pingyang watched the once-eager boy's face turn swiftly pale, his eyes glazed—great nations spanning ten thousand, even tens of thousands of li, collecting tens of millions of taels annually—how much do you expect me to produce?

Li Guanyi stared at those two words.

A hundred million taels of silver?

Sell me!

Then Li Guanyi realized: over a year ago, when he caused such chaos in Chen state and was hunted, the bounty on his head in Zhenbei City had been merely 【ten thousand taels of gold】.

Converted to silver: ten thousand taels, plus losses, a bit over eleven thousand.

Regrettably, even selling himself could not fill the gap.

Qin Wu Hou Li Guanyi's "debt" increased dramatically.

Realizing this, the boy sat there, his dreams shattered; he understood Master Yan Daiqing was truly brilliant—this man differed from Yuan Zhi, and had long been close to Li Guanyi.

Their bond was forged in childhood fistfights.

Master Yan Daiqing, like stroking a cat along its fur, gently lifted the boy up, smiling warmly with the gentle grace of a Jiangnan gentleman, reaching to take away the cat food the boy had hidden.

Not a single morsel left.

Grabbing him by the nape, shaking him back and forth, to shake out the last grain of cat food.

Finally, smoothing down every last strand of the cat's fur.

His smile was gentle, like that of a nobleman.

"Get even more."

He regarded Xiao Zhi as a kindred spirit, and privately thought, "I am not his equal."

It was not without basis.

Every member of the Qilin Army's strategists had a completely different personality.

But Li Guanyi, sitting there, suddenly burst into laughter—he laughed loudly, carefully folded the letter, and tucked it into his bosom, saying, "I feel somehow guilty toward Daiqing." He thought: when he first learned this letter came from Master Yan Daiqing, he had felt regret.

He felt he should speak up.

"That distant grand aspiration should not be left solely to you to fulfill."

"Pingyang."

Li Guanyi swallowed the food in two or three bites, then lifted his gaze.

The elegant cavalry general said softly, "Your servant is here."

"Let's go. It's time to solve our financial problem."

Li Guanyi judged clearly: he needed talent, he needed silver and gold. Acquiring silver and gold from outside was difficult, but in Jiangnan, there was a large group of powerful families who, after seeing the Qilin Army no longer granted them the privileges they once enjoyed, planned to surrender their cities to expel the Qilin Army—families ravaged by the plague.

Yuan Zhi was calm and strategic; Daiqing was composed and able to mediate among several people.

Xiao Zhi had a meticulous mind and could remember many things.

They were all excellent strategists, great talents, and loyal companions—but each had his own specialty. To remove the last great rotten patch in Jiangnan, a sharper, more potent medicine was needed. No money?

Then let us see: how much wealth have the Jiangnan families, who have held the Iron Fushu lands for centuries, accumulated?

Li Guanyi took off this robe.

Only now did Li Guanyi realize that the luxurious robes worn by feudal lords were never washed—if they became dirty, they were simply replaced with new ones. Li Guanyi had no such extravagant habit.

He recoiled as if shocked, then reached out and brushed off the dust.

He changed back into his ordinary clothes. Ling Pingyang had urged him to wear a proper brocade robe, but Li Guanyi replied, "I am a disciple of Zu Lao, and a disciple of Master Wang Tong. I go to the Imperial Academy as a student visiting his teacher—not to show off."

He did not mention to Elder Murong the impending, earth-shattering battle.

Both he and the old man avoided discussing it at this moment.

Elder Murong has arrived; the martial world's figures will soon descend.

That battle will not be many days away.

But the deputy general lowered his voice and said, "My Lord, there appear to be many carriages outside—likely from the great families, nobles, and even imperial clans of Zhongzhou. They've come to deliver their visiting cards."

Li Guanyi said, "Visiting cards?"

Ling Pingyang replied, "At your age, with your martial prowess and methods, the great families of Zhongzhou will surely wish to form marital alliances with you. That is how the clans have endured for generations."

The silver-haired girl's gaze flickered instinctively.

But Li Guanyi raised the letter in his hand and answered, "My beauty is not them. All such matters in the world fill my heart. Jiangnan is surging with change—I must walk ahead of them."

"A nobleman is like a jade ornament, his feathered robe gleaming brightly."

"For me, Pojun, Yuan Zhi, Daiqing, Xiao Zhi, Master Wen He."

"These are the true beauties of the world. Their talents matter far more than romantic affections. Yao Guang..."

The silver-haired girl stood quietly, tilting her head.

Li Guanyi reached out and ruffled the girl's hair, smiling: "Stay by your great-grandfather's side this time. The scene may be a bit violent." He felt a strange unease—he did not want this girl to see him using "base" methods.

Li Guanyi turned and said, "Pingyang, are you ready?"

The elegant general said gently, "Weapons woven with beast sinews can stretch to a hundred zhang. Even a diamond-hard body with sealed meridians cannot break free."

"Thirty-two varieties of Ma Fei San."

"And those that came with the letter."

"Under the guidance of Old Ghost Qi Laogui, they were completed—surpassing all previous Ma Fei San effects. They bypass all known principles of Ma Fei San: not to induce unconsciousness, but to make one 【remain conscious, yet unable to move】."

Li Guanyi grinned: "Good."

He put on all these items, then carefully pulled out the "Thousand-Day Drunk" given by his adoptive brother, lifted his robe, slipped it inside, and flashed a bright smile: "Where is Mr. Master Wen He?"

Ling Pingyang said, "My Lord thinks the same."

Li Guanyi said, "Yes. Since they've come, why rest?"

"We must bring that brat back, or I won't rest easy."

Because among the letters accompanying Master Yan Daiqing's message was a line from Old Pang: this aged, unyielding strategist warned Li Guanyi that if a man skilled in self-preservation had offered him four strategies to perfectly merge the Agrarians with the Qilin Army,

It could not be a change of heart—it was a test.

Using superior strategies as bait, testing him with a refined, self-serving method.

Under these circumstances, speed is essential.

Thus, Ling Pingyang and Li Guanyi set out. Yao Guang reached out and gripped the boy's sleeve. Li Guanyi turned to look; the silver-haired girl's voice condensed as she placed her hand on the wine flask at his waist.

Then the qi shifted.

Layer upon layer of strange arts settled upon it. Li Guanyi looked down and saw the glow on the flask brighten, then fade. He saw the girl's gaze—calm, her eyelashes long.

Yao Guang withdrew her hand.

She said, "I used a strange art. It will make people unconsciously overlook this flask."

"You should know how to use it."

Li Guanyi beamed: "Ha! Good!"

The boy and Ling Pingyang stepped out. Before the main gate, many people waited—including delicate young ladies of various families. Their eyes held impatience, curiosity—but whether impatience or malice, it was all pure.

There were also rear gates.

The silver-haired girl pointed with her finger toward the crimson high wall over there.

Thus, the Qin Wu Hou of Jiangnan and the young generation's foremost cavalry general, Ling Pingyang, exchanged a glance.

Generals Ling Pingyang said: "There might be people outside."

Li Guanyi said: "Yao Guang is an experienced Grand Master!"

The silver-haired girl stood quietly and nodded.

Two famed generals climbed over the wall together.

The silver-haired girl thought for a moment, seeing a large inverted jar over there; she reached out, pressed her hand against the ceramic jar, stepped her right foot onto its center—posture that should have made her fall, unable to generate force—yet something peculiar seemed to support her.

Yao Guang, using hands, feet, and knees, successfully climbed atop the large jar.

Then she rose on her toes, gazing at the street outside; every carriage was luxurious, drawn by beasts of this caliber; the young ladies of each household gathered together, laughing and speaking, their eyes pure and unclouded—some of them unwilling to come.

But their once gentle, agreeable fathers, brothers, grandmothers, and mothers had forcibly brought them here; as they complained about this, the silver-haired girl watched them, then thought:

We are different.

She felt no hostility toward these people, only watched quietly as these women, still happy and simple amid chaos; then she looked toward the nearby street, where young men and women called out while selling fruit.

People are not all the same.

The girl opened her hands—from her escape, to the Fire Qilin Hunt, to Jiangnan, to the Gongsun Clan.

Every one of her strange arts had been used.

So, she is a companion.

A companion who will not be abandoned.

"Po Jun is a 'Beauty.'"

"He wants to beat me, which means he thinks he's inferior to me."

The silver-haired girl slid down carefully, first landing on her toes, then her heels—her foot ached, then went numb; after a while, the sensation of muscles being pulled gradually faded.

Yao Guang bent over, brushing the dirt off her long robe.

Her tone remained unruffled, speaking naturally:

"So, I am also a 'Beauty.'"

Li Guanyi eagerly headed toward the Academy in Zhongzhou, and on his shoulder sat the eager Fire Qilin; along another path, the imperial road emerging from the Zhongzhou Imperial Palace also led to the Academy.

The Emperor, bearded and no longer as handsome as before, walked in his everyday robes.

Inside the Academy.

Wen He watched as a talisman on the table suddenly ignited; he fell into thought, shook a divination cylinder, placed a row of ancient coins on the table, then saw the coins crack open with a crackling sound.

"Danger?"

He picked up a bundle beneath the table, wiped his face, donned a mask of human skin, flicked his wrist to scatter a circle of powder that erased traces; the gatekeeper called out:

"Mr. Wen, Mr. Wen, a guest has arrived!"

Wen He, expressionless: "Tell them I'm sleeping."

"Oh oh, sorry, guest, my master says he's sleeping!"

Wen He thought the boy was selling him out.

With a glance, he flipped over the wall, landing without a sound.

Comparable to a top-tier thief.

He turned around—only to see a shadow descending; before him stood a Daoist, beside him a burly man whose bearing was refined yet who had precisely blocked his path.

Li Guanyi, with his vast experience in eavesdropping, slowly curled the corner of his mouth.

He said gently: "Mr. Wen He."

"I've long admired you from afar."

"I am Li Guanyi from Jiangnan."

The boy grabbed Wen He's arm with one hand, smiling warmly and enthusiastically:

"Where are you off to?"

?? Sleep schedule barely succeeded—safe~