Chapter 951: The Great Wind Arrives

Pan Yun believed this was heaven’s support—otherwise, how could tossing a branch to find Pu Min have led her to tungsten ore?

Clearly, heaven also supported her in accelerating the era’s progress, so that present and future commoners would suffer less.

Pan Yun chuckled sharply, shattered a large rock with one palm, and casually picked up a few pieces of tungsten stone to put away: “Let’s go. Since heaven has given us signs, Pu Min must be nearby. Head to higher ground—they’ll need fire to smelt silver, so follow the smoke.”

They waited until evening before seeing smoke.

Wang Cong glanced at the smoke and said: “This is cooking smoke. Looks like this mine’s output isn’t great—there’s no smelting smoke.”

Indeed, there was no smelting smoke, because the ore wasn’t smelted in the mountains at all.

Pu Min said: “Due to rampant illegal mining and last year’s miner uprisings, the court no longer smelts silver near the mines. Instead, they transport the ore elsewhere.”

Pan Yun and Wang Cong saw the narrow path worn into the earth and sighed: “Hard work.”

At least fix the road.

Pu Min looked at them and asked calmly: “You’ve gone through great hardship to sneak into these deep mountains—what is it you want?”

Pu Min had just left the mining area, received his evening meal, and, in low spirits, sought a solitary spot to eat alone and process his thoughts. He hadn’t expected to have barely sat down on a rock when Pan Yun and Wang Cong appeared before him, as if conjured from water.

Pu Min instantly crushed the gray, dense bun in his hand into two halves.

All miners at this site were convicts. To prevent escape, thorny bushes surrounded the site, and guards patrolled it—how had they gotten in?

A thought flashed through his mind, but then he remembered their abilities and calmed down. What was there to fear? They swam like fish in the open sea—what danger could mountains hold?

Pu Min clenched the bun in his hand, face rigid: “Leave. I won’t say a word.”

“Say what? That you took the blame for Pu Si?” Pan Yun said. “We’re not asking about that.”

Pu Min frowned. Aside from that, what value did he have?

Pan Yun said: “Do you know Pu Si is now working for the imperial family?”

Pu Min fell silent. He didn’t know. He didn’t care.

Pan Yun studied his expression and smiled faintly: “Do you know Wu TaiTai’s condition has worsened, and Pu Yue’s hasn’t improved?”

Pu Min’s eyes widened instantly: “What did you say?”

Wang Cong handed him the prescription copied by Miao He: “This is the revised prescription Wu TaiTai used. You remember it, don’t you?”

Pu Min reached out to take it. He had personally fetched every herb for his household—he remembered perfectly.

He gripped the prescription tightly and asked: “What’s wrong with this prescription?”

Wang Cong: “Wu TaiTai’s body is weak. The original prescription couldn’t cure her, but it maintained her condition and provided gentle nourishment—even if slowly. The revised one over-nourishes her, like blocking a river instead of diverting it. This medicine seals the illness without killing it. Over time…”

Pu Min’s face darkened further. Wang Cong lowered her voice: “She’s still taking this prescription. Her body is already at its limit. If you don’t redirect the flow, she won’t last long.”

Pu Min lifted his head and stared at them. After a long silence, his voice cracked: “What do you want from me?”

Pan Yun: “I want you to serve me.”

Pu Min: “I’m a banished convict. What can I do for you? Even if I recanted my testimony, there’d be no evidence. You can’t bring down Pu Si—you said he works for the imperial family.”

Pan Yun: “I don’t need you to bring down Pu Si. I only need you to restrain him—to make the Pu family do what it should.”

Pu Min couldn’t help laughing. He held up his hands: “Me? Restrain Pu Si? I’m a convict—I can’t even leave this mountain!”

Pan Yun: “I’ll get you out.”

Pu Min’s face changed: “If I escape prison, my family will suffer. My mother and sister can’t endure more hardship.”

Pan Yun: “I’ll get you out openly.”

Pu Min froze.

Wang Cong said: “My junior uncle is now the State Preceptor.”

Pu Min stared at her blankly: “State Preceptor?”

Pan Yun’s eyes narrowed: “Do you know the new emperor has ascended?”

Pu Min’s eyes were clouded—he knew nothing.

Pan Yun scanned the mountain and understood. These were convict laborers. Without their guards speaking, they received no outside news.

Pu Min quickly realized. His heart pounded. “The emperor—how could the emperor… He was so young. Who is the new emperor?”

“The former emperor personally led troops against the Oirats and died on the battlefield. The new emperor is Prince Cheng,” Pan Yun said. “Pu Si pledged loyalty to the former emperor. Now that the former emperor is dead, though he still serves the imperial family, his hands are not clean, and his private calculations are too many.”

Pu Min’s mind raced, his eyes gleaming.

He wasn’t a fool.

The Pu family were all business-savvy. Pu Min merely wanted a stable job to care for his mother and sister, so he used connections to join the local garrison and deliberately transferred to guard the city gate.

Guarding the gate was humble and poorly paid, but the hours were steady. Outside official circles, he could wield authority like a fox borrowing a tiger’s might.

He merely used this role to protect his family’s assets.

He also gathered plenty of news by observing daily arrivals and departures, managing several plots of land and a general store that thrived, supporting his entire household.

Only when his mother and sister’s medicine costs rose too high did he quit the gate guard post and return to the Pu household to run errands for Pu Si.

So he was clever.

Pan Yun had said no more than this—he understood.

It wasn’t that he’d obey Pan Yun after leaving. It was that he’d obey the new emperor.

The two were different. The former might be treason. The latter was loyalty to the throne.

Without hesitation, Pu Min knelt: “Your humble subject pledges his life to His Majesty.”

Wang Cong frowned, muttering: “It was my junior uncle who saved you…”

Pan Yun stopped her. To Pu Min: “Just remember that vow.”

Pu Min quickly added: “I pledge my life to the State Preceptor.”

“I don’t need you to die for me. I only need you to grow stronger and keep watch on Pu Si.” Pan Yun glanced at the sky. “Time’s running out. We’re leaving now. Keep this secret. You won’t be released for at least two months.”

Pu Min fretted: “Master Pan, my mother…”

“I’ll have Miao He and Tao Yanbai treat her. She’ll live.”

Pu Min exhaled, but his heart still clenched.

After Pan Yun left, he remained anxious.

Especially at night, when the miners, exhausted, fell asleep one after another, their snores rising and falling. Pu Min’s anxiety swelled endlessly. He resented Pu Si—hadn’t he promised to care for his mother and sister? Why hadn’t he?

He didn’t even blame him for taking the blame. He only wanted him to treat his mother and sister well after he was imprisoned.

Yet he gave his mother the wrong prescription.

Pu Min’s heart burned with anguish. He tossed and turned.

Meanwhile, Pan Yun and Wang Cong returned to Quanzhou.

Two days later, the Imperial Astronomical Bureau had predicted the storm’s landfall. The night before, everything hanging in the streets had been taken indoors; what couldn’t be moved was tied down.

The streets were empty. Everyone stayed inside, waiting.

Morning: the sky was overcast, but no wind.

Noon: the dense clouds parted, and sunlight appeared—still no wind.

Afternoon: people ventured out, peering up at the sky. Sunlight filtered through white clouds, gilding the sea.

People shook their heads: “Did the Imperial Astronomical Bureau miscalculate? This doesn’t look like a storm’s coming.”

“Maybe they did. How can mortals predict divine affairs?”

“Exactly. If they could, would they still be divine?”

They sighed, shook their heads, and resumed daily life—some went to pick vegetables, others visited neighbors.

At dusk, sunlight vanished. The sky darkened. The welcome banners rehung on doors unfurled with sharp cracks. Trees swayed, leaves rustled with a whooshing sound.

Those who had been complaining about the Bureau, planning to demand explanations and compensation from the government office the next day, exchanged glances, sprang up, tore down the banners, and slammed their doors shut with a bang.

On the twenty-eighth day of the sixth month, Year JingTai, at the second watch, the great storm made landfall. First, a light breeze. It blew for less than half an hour before intensifying violently. Wind hurled water from the sky, drenching the ground, sweeping trees, pounding rooftops…

The sky plunged into darkness. Before the hour of You ended, night fell completely.

Prefect Lu stood inside his door, pacing anxiously: “It came at night—how long will this wind last?”

His secretary said: “The State Preceptor said the storm arrives fast and departs fast, but if the system is large, expect days of rain and sustained winds. No one can leave tonight. Tomorrow’s rescue efforts depend on conditions.”

“Stop talking. Close the door! If my room floods, I’ll throw you out to join the storm.”

The prefect’s wife shouted from afar. Lu silently joined his secretary to shove the door shut. In darkness, they stared at each other, speechless.

Soon, the sound of trees being uprooted filled the air. Window frames rattled in the gale. Roof tiles were torn off and smashed to the ground. Distant screams and cries echoed.

Prefect Lu was deeply worried, yet powerless. If he stepped outside now, the wind would sweep him away.

He could do nothing—yet he remained anxious, pacing his room.

Cao Jixiang, staying in the back courtyard of the Maritime Trade Office, watched through a window crack the curtain of rain and the broken branches of the catalpa tree in his yard. His heart ached too.

“Natural disaster—no human strength can resist.”

Pan Yun stood at the gate of her villa, watching the rain and wind.

She stood at the threshold, yet the wind and rain stopped before her, never touching her.

Wang Cong had turned four chairs backward, arranged them in a row, and sat behind her in the main hall, propping their backs to watch her.

Miao He marveled: “Junior uncle is so powerful. When will I be as strong as her?”

Tao Yanbai counted on his fingers: “If you train diligently, at least ten years.”

Miao Zhen: “I only see the spiritual power rushing out. Junior uncle is so wasteful—using so much spiritual power.”

Wang Cong hesitated: “Perhaps she’s observing the storm to gather data?”

Miao Zhen pointed to objects hanging under eaves and beneath trees: “Check those to measure wind speed.”

Pan Yun turned: “The wind direction has shifted. Our celestial readings were off. It will veer south—toward Tingzhou Prefecture. Ganzhou Prefecture will be affected too.”

The four sat upright: “What do we do? Have the two prefectures made preparations?”

Pan Yun lowered her eyes: “With this force, even I couldn’t fly. And it’s too late now. I only hope the prefects there had foresight and prepared in advance.”

It turned out that the County Magistrates of Tingzhou Prefecture and Ganzhou Prefecture had some ability.

When they learned that the Imperial Astronomical Bureau predicted the typhoon would make landfall in Quanzhou Prefecture, then turn northward toward Jianning Prefecture and affect Yanping Prefecture, the County Magistrate of Tingzhou Prefecture, near Yanping, immediately acted, ordering all counties and villages to prepare.

The County Magistrate of Ganzhou Prefecture, further south, seeing this, sent men to find out when Quanzhou Prefecture had been sealed off, and followed suit with his own preparations.

So at dawn, when a howling wind rose outside and grew louder, both magistrates immediately threw off their quilts and rose, only to have wind-driven rain slam into their faces as they opened the windows.

They barely managed to shut the windows, both relieved—thankfully they had ordered the people to prepare in advance.

Though preparations had been made, the areas struck by the typhoon still suffered severe damage.

Some dilapidated houses collapsed instantly, countless thatched roofs were torn off, heavy rain poured down, and streets were flooded everywhere.

At this time, the rice in the fields was at its fullest stage after heading, and as the gale passed, countless stalks fell over, submerged in mud and water.

After the wind passed, the rain and wind weakened; Lu Mingzhe walked beside the fields in his straw rain cape, gazing at the fields half-submerged, heart aching: “My grain~~”

The peasants cried even louder than he did, but they weren’t just standing and weeping—they wailed loudly while rushing to the field ridges with hoes, quickly draining the water and lifting the fallen rice stalks to tie them upright, lest the grains sprout.

The Village Head stood beside Lu Mingzhe and said: “The situation is much better than last time the storm came—the villagers were prepared, the ditches were cleared in advance, and the field ridges were raised; now, once we dig open the ridges to drain the water, recovery is more than three times faster than last time.”

Ganzhou, Tingzhou, and Yanping all suffered damage to varying degrees.

After the wind weakened, Pan Yun flew through the rain, surveying the disaster zones; once she had a clear picture, she left Wang Cong and the others to manage relief, then flew straight back to the capital.

The capital had not yet heard of the typhoon’s landfall in Quanzhou; Pan Yun’s news stunned the entire court.

Under the Emperor’s direction, the Ministry of Revenue began organizing relief grain; after calculations, the imperial treasury would send 200,000 taels of silver southward: 80,000 taels to Quanzhou Prefecture, the worst-hit, and 40,000 taels each to the other three prefectures, while relief grain was also dispatched from Changsha Prefecture and Nanjing.

Pan Yun said: “With harvest still a month away, what matters most to the people is this year’s tax burden.”

Pan Yun said: “Your Majesty, please exempt the disaster-stricken regions from taxes and grant a general amnesty throughout the realm, to pray for the prosperity of Great Ming.”