Chapter 71: Change of Era Name to Shao Sheng

They dismounted at the southern alley of Quyuan Street, where imperial guards surrounded the eight-character water outlet in layers; Zhong Pu, Wang En, and others stepped forward to pay their respects.

Zhao Ti said: “Prepare soft shields and short crossbows, assign two thousand soldiers, and go inspect the passage.”

Several answered “Yes,” and within moments the troops were assembled, entering the underground of Dongjing through this water outlet.

By now, all the corpses of the ghost Fan Tower bandits had been cleared away; troops stood guard at intervals along the passage to prevent any hidden survivors from emerging.

But after several days, nothing occurred—clearly no bandit remained alive; even if they hadn’t been suffocated by the flame oil, after five or six days of thirst and hunger, they would have perished.

The only unresolved matter was the ancient tomb mentioned by the traitor Cui Chong; the soldiers forged ahead, heading straight toward it.

Zhao Ti walked amid the ranks, scanning the surroundings, feeling cold winds gusting, the air chilling—indeed, a place of evil.

As they went deeper, the wind moaned like weeping, yet the soldiers showed no fear, their faces grim as they glared around.

Zhong Pu said: “Your Highness, the Yin Lake lies ahead—shall we stop to take a look?”

“Yin Lake?” Zhao Ti nodded; Zhong Pu had previously mentioned an underground lake, but he had dismissed it as impossible for anyone to hide there long-term, so he’d excluded it from active search, leaving only troops to guard it.

Indeed, after a moment, a fork appeared, guarded by imperial soldiers; Zhong Pu led the way forward, revealing a small lake.

Soldiers lit torches around the perimeter, illuminating the lake as bright as day—the water was crystal-clear, emerald-green, like a mirror; the firelight revealed the underwater scene.

Beneath the lake, half a palace stood faintly, ancient beyond reckoning, still vividly colored, shimmering with life; the water resembled liquid starlight, the palace mysterious, evoking an inexplicable sense of solemnity.

Zhao Ti gazed for a long while, calculating light refraction, sensing the depth below was great—likely not something from a previous dynasty as Zhong Pu had claimed, perhaps already on the underground’s next level.

No one could hide here; even the most supreme cultivator couldn’t hold his breath underwater for so many days. Li Qiushui of the Xiaoyao Sect possessed the Turtle Breathing Art, yet even she couldn’t last this long. Zhang Shun, the White Stripe of the Waves, could stay submerged three days and nights without breathing—but that was likely an exaggeration.

Zhao Ti pondered briefly and departed; the troops pressed on, and gradually the underground passage grew chaotic, losing all signs of human construction, reduced entirely to natural traces carved by floodwaters.

After walking further, they reached a hidden cave entrance; Zhong Pu said: “Your Highness, this is it—Cui Chong said the path to the ancient tomb begins here.”

Zhao Ti said: “Have him lead. No need for so many—twenty soldiers with shields in front, a hundred crossbowmen behind them, then another hundred swordsmen.”

Zhong Pu went to deliver the order, then entered the passage; the entrance was narrow, then widened gradually downward, allowing three or five soldiers to walk side by side.

Zhao Ti examined the cave walls on either side, seeing protruding green stones, jagged like horns—unknown what stone carvings lay embedded within.

After about fifteen minutes, the passage opened abruptly; soldiers reported: “Your Highness, there’s a vast open space ahead.”

Zhao Ti advanced and saw the passage had ended; torches revealed scattered stone figures and beasts, and far behind, a massive bulge faintly visible—the front of a grand tomb.

Zhao Ti squinted—dark, gloomy, uncertain in the shadows.

At that moment, soldiers moved toward the grand tomb; soon someone shouted: “There are corpses here!”

Zhong Pu rushed back: “Your Highness, we’ve found three bodies, all in front of the tomb.”

Zhao Ti nodded: “Go take a look.”

He stepped slowly into the space, observing the stone carvings of men and beasts—all funerary objects, from an unknown dynasty; yet judging by these artifacts, the tomb’s rank appeared very high.

Nearby, he saw three corpses, surrounded by soldiers.

Zhao Ti took one look and frowned—why were all three bodies face-down, facing outward?

Whether these three were suffocated by flame oil seeping in or died of thirst and hunger here, it was unlikely they’d all collapse face-first toward the exit unless they died while walking outward together.

He said sternly: “Turn them over.”

Soldiers immediately flipped the corpses; the air was cool, so the bodies hadn’t swollen or rotted excessively—their appearances remained largely unchanged.

Zhong Pu had Cui Chong identify them; Cui Chong stared a long while: “G, General, the one with the half-mask on his face is the evil lord of Wu You Cave; the other two are his attendants.”

One corpse was broad and muscular, wearing a half-golden mask, yet enough of his face and chin remained visible for identification.

Zhao Ti glanced: “Remove the mask.”

Soldiers peeled off the mask—beneath lay a dense network of scars; the Lord of Wu You Cave had somehow disfigured himself.

Zhao Ti squinted: “Carry them all out.”

Then he turned to the grand tomb behind—it was entirely buried within the earthen wall, only its front exposed; in the lower right corner was a half-man-high tunnel from looters.

After brief thought, he said: “Fill in this tunnel with earth, and block the entrance to the passage outside. Once done, withdraw all troops from underground—only guard the eight-character water outlet.”

Zhong Pu replied “Yes.” Zhao Ti then returned aboveground and went to the palace to report.

In the following days, he repeatedly proposed abolishing old laws and restoring the New Laws in court; the dormant New Party members gradually began speaking up, clashing fiercely with the Old Party.

Before long, mid-April arrived; the weather grew warmer, summer had come.

Zhao Xu proposed changing the era name, settling on Shao Sheng—“Shao” meaning to inherit and continue, “Shao Sheng” meaning to inherit the thoughts or deeds of the sage.

Zhao Xu chose “Shao Sheng” as the new era name—its intent was clear: he would continue Shenzong’s reforms.

The old ministers strongly opposed it, but the New Party, emboldened by Zhao Ti’s entry into court, had begun to revive; after three days of bitter debate, Zhao Xu upheld the new era name.

He then reorganized the court officials, starting from the lower ranks, slowly replacing Old Party members, then demoting Vice Ministers and Ministers, and finally replacing two Chancellors—within half a month, the court had undergone a complete blood purge.

On the ninth day of the fifth month, Zhao Xu issued an edict posthumously bestowing the honorific title “Wen” upon Wang Anshi, summoning Zhang Dun, Cai Bian, Zeng Bu, and others back to the capital; from then on, abolishing the old and restoring the new was settled, beyond reversal.

In the evening, Zhao Ti entered the palace and saw Zhao Xu deep in thought, holding a memorial: “Earlier, I ordered the Two Jiang and Two Zhe Routes to investigate the Ming Jiao—how sluggish and perfunctory they were. At this critical juncture of reform, no region can afford chaos; otherwise, the Old Party will seize it as an excuse to disrupt civil affairs, and the New Laws will surely fail.”

Zhao Ti said: “Your Majesty’s intention—”

Zhao Xu sighed: “This is a major matter, involving military affairs. The new ministers in court have no suitable candidates. Could Prince Yan undertake this mission?”

Zhao Ti smiled: “I have no current duties—I can take it.”

Zhao Xu’s tone grew grave: “If you can locate the Ming Jiao’s lair, eradicate it entirely—prevent it from continuing to deceive the people.”

Zhao Ti said: “I understand.”

Zhao Xu paused, then added: “On your way, pay a visit to the descendants of Wang Jia—extend my regards on my behalf.”