Chapter 296

202. Chapter 196: Chaotic and Vast, the Dao Is Long and Obstructed

At the moment of asset inventory—whether farmland, pasture, population, or treasury silver, all roughly the same—someone panicking and making a misstep, accidentally falling to their death, was an extremely common occurrence.

Just as during the reign of Emperor Xiaozong, after the eunuch Li Guang poisoned himself and the Censorate raided his home, inadvertently implicating a host of officials—including Minister of Personnel Tu Shen, Minister of Rites Xu Qiong, Minister of Justice Bai Ang, and Tongzheng Official Shen Lu—several minor officials entangled in the affair died one after another from fear and anxiety.

But dying from anxiety, or falling from buildings or cliffs, were still relatively common and even somewhat dignified; falling on flat ground, however, was crude.

Worse still, two people fell at once.

This clearly violated court decorum, appearing hasty and careless.

The Director of Pasture Affairs was the Ministry of Revenue's accountant for pastures, typically held by a Director of the Clear Li Department.

Just as the Shaanxi Clear Li Department managed official grain rations, the Shandong Clear Li Department oversaw the nation's salt taxes, the Guizhou Clear Li Department handled customs duties from all directions, and the Yunnan Clear Li Department supervised grain transport and the Lin and De granaries.

Such specialized backbone officials were by no means insignificant, especially regarding pasture affairs.

The Yuanma Temple, subordinate to the Ministry of War, managed pastures, herders, and foals—it was the direct administrative body for pastures, one of the three types of grazing land.

The Temple's chief, the Yuanma Temple Minister, was a third-rank official in crimson robes, a high-ranking minister who, even in regular court sessions, barely held a seat among courtiers.

Now both had died suddenly; anyone could see the oddity.

Yet only a very small group could span both ministries, collude with garrisons, reach into the pastures, and swiftly eliminate two third-rank officials at this moment.

Such conduct was clearly extremely unwise.

After all, if it were merely corruption, there was no threat to life—even passive resignation would be preferable to this brazen assassination—naturally, it was assassination; in factional struggles, suspicion was fact.

Unless… behind the encroachment on the pastures lay something even more deadly.

While Zhang Hong stepped back to fetch the other two, Zhu Yijun paced back and forth at a distance, occasionally stopping to crush soil underfoot, silently pondering.

The ministers, seeing the emperor lost in thought, did not approach to disturb him, merely standing nearby, each lost in their own thoughts.

Xu Guo sidled up to Xu Jie, who wore an expression of detached amusement, and casually tried to spark his interest: "What a convenient 'accidental fall'—how bold, I wonder what motive lies behind it."

He stole a glance at Xu Jie, but the old man remained calm, showing no sign of responding.

With no other option, Xu Guo turned to face Xu Jie directly: "Master Xu, who do you think could be so heartless?"

In court service, seeing through matters clearly was a crucial skill.

Xu Guo had only just entered the position of Vice Minister; he knew he lacked the depth, and was happy to hear the views of this senior from the same southern Jiangnan region.

Xu Jie, watching the emperor's figure, replied indifferently: "Perhaps Wang Chonggu?"

Xu Guo was startled, quickly glancing at the reactions of nearby colleagues.

Seeing them instinctively step away, he only then realized his mistake and chuckled nervously: "Master Xu, don't joke—Grand Secretary Wang is the pillar of the state, the foundation of the realm; how could he do such a thing?"

Wang Chonggu might be corrupt, but he was certainly not foolish.

After all, Grand Secretary Wang's family had legitimate businesses.

After the revival of the Open Middle System, his brother Wang Chongde, backed by the Shandong Salt Administration, grew immensely wealthy.

Wang Chongyi had previously rendered great service in the Duoyan Guard affair, for which the emperor specially granted him the maritime silk trade route from Nanzhili to

After Wang Qian's son passed the imperial examination in the fifth year of Wanli, he was immediately dispatched to Chongming Port to await the spoils of the Chongming Maritime Customs Office.

Even legitimate business alone is sufficient to make one fabulously wealthy; why risk muddying oneself with the filth of pastures?

Even if, hypothetically, Wang Chonggu did harbor greed and reached into the pastures, he could never have committed murder to silence others—after all, the emperor would at most order him to return the ill-gotten gains.

The emperor even had to take pains to reassure Wang Chonggu, urging him not to overthink it and to continue serving the state.

Thus, Wang Chonggu might possibly be involved, but Xu Gu could only insist that Wang Chonggu was utterly incapable.

Xu Jie appeared not to notice Xu Gu's discomfort; instead, his interest heightened, and he smiled with narrowed eyes: "Why not? He's inherently greedy."

"Moreover, who else but this Grand Secretary could command the Yuanma Temple, secretly control the Director of Pastures under the Ministry of Revenue, and possess sufficient prestige to link with various military garrisons?"

Upon hearing this, Xu Gu cleared his throat and firmly rebutted: "Your words, Master Xu, are mistaken. One with capability does not necessarily act; this is mere baseless speculation."

"Furthermore, those with such capability are not limited to Grand Secretary Wang; at the very least, the superior offices of the Yuanma Temple—the Ministry of War and the Ministry of War's own Treasury, the Ministry of War's Taipu Temple—likely share responsibility and possess equal capacity."

The Yuanma Temple was established in the 30th year of Hongwu as an independent bureau; during the purge of redundant officials in the 18th year of Yongle, the Beijing Yuanma Temple was abolished and merged into the Taipu Temple, which then assumed control over all regional Yuanma Temples.

Whether the senior officials of the Ministry of War or the Director of the Taipu Temple—the Ministry of War's financial backbone—both possessed the capability to seize pastures and commit murder to silence witnesses.

Therefore, Xu Jie's suspicion of Wang Chonggu is utterly groundless and purely fabricated.

Xu Jie uttered an "oh," stroked his snowy long eyebrows, and said with deep implication: "So you too acknowledge the Ministry of War's involvement…"

"Now that the Director of the Taipu Temple has arrived, we need only question him to uncover the truth."

"As for the Ministry of War's senior officials, the Vice Minister Luo Fengxiang—how could a mere juren rise to a top post in one of the Six Ministries, if not because he shares his native place of Pu Prefecture in Shanxi with Wang Chonggu?"

"Whether it's the Ministry of War or the Shanxi faction, it all ultimately circles back to Wang Chonggu."

Upon hearing this, Xu Gu's frown deepened: "Master Xu, be careful with your words."

Luo Fengxiang was promoted by Yang Xiangyi; when he was elevated from juren to fourth-rank Assistant Director of the Court of Judicial Review, Senior Grand Secretary Wang had not yet arrived in the capital.

After Yang Xiangyi retired, Luo Fengxiang was promoted from Assistant Director of the Court of Judicial Review to Director of the Imperial Stable, and later to Vice Minister of War—all without Senior Grand Secretary Wang's intervention, but rather by the Ministry of War's…

Mid-sentence, Xu Gu suddenly froze.

He seemed to recall something, his expression filled with shock and uncertainty.

After a long pause, Xu Gu looked at Xu Jie and asked softly: "Master Xu, are you suggesting…"

Only then did he realize belatedly that Xu Jie had been subtly guiding and reminding him.

Xu Jie waved his hand, interrupting Xu Gu, and declared confidently: "When did I ever say I suspected Wang Chonggu? Vice Minister Xu, don't overthink it."

Seeing Xu Gu speechless, Xu Jie found it amusing and burst into laughter, then turned away, hands behind his back, pacing to one side.

Xu Gu spoke with ease and composure; Xu Jie remained detached, jesting lightly.

Because both were entirely outside the matter.

But Chen Jingbang, the Vice Minister of War in charge of military affairs, felt far heavier burdens at this moment.

He pulled He Luowen aside and said gravely: "I fear this matter extends far beyond pastures; otherwise, a third-rank official would never have fallen to his death."

Whether in rank as Vice Minister of War or in his official duty overseeing the capital's military garrisons, this fell squarely within Chen Jingbang's purview—he could not afford to be casual.

Influenced by Chen Jingbang's solemn expression, He Luowen replied seriously: "It likely still concerns the military garrisons."

"Early last year, Left Censor Qin Yao submitted a memorial on pasture affairs, stating that troops should receive three months' fodder annually, yet most garrisons sold the fodder to merchants instead of feeding their horses."

Chen Jingbang frowned; he remembered this incident well. Although it originated from the Censorate of Rites, it had been discussed in the regular court assembly.

He recalled for a moment and murmured: "I remember, we dispatched officials from the Ministry of War and censors to investigate, and they concluded that because garrisons were so remote, transporting fodder was difficult, so they sold it and repurchased locally."

This made sense at the time, so no further inquiry was made—after all, too many garrisons were involved, and punishing all was impractical.

He Luowen shook his head: "It sounds plausible, but there are inconsistencies."

"Besides the Ministry of War and censors, the Embroidered Uniform Guard also investigated and reported that the market price for one bundle of fodder was 3.2 cash, yet soldiers often sold ten bundles for less than 1.45 cash."

"At half the market value, even if they repurchased locally, the horses still went hungry and underfed."

A 50% loss means horses might barely survive, but achieving robust, well-fed condition is utterly impossible.

This information came from his younger brother He Luoshu, a secretary in the Hanlin Academy, who mentioned it during a home visit. Such seemingly trivial matters were deliberately leaked by the emperor to the outer court.

Upon hearing this, Chen Jingbang's expression grew even more alarmed: "Are you suggesting this may involve horse administration?"

"Military affairs hinge on horses; any issue with horse administration is no trivial matter."

Especially since the Tartars had threatened Beijing just twenty-nine years ago, and the Shizhou Incident occurred only over a decade ago—horse administration has always been the Ministry of War's top priority.

He Luowen sighed: "If pastures are already compromised, how can one expect horse administration to function smoothly? It's sheer fantasy."

"Moreover, the Director of the Yuanma Temple, who oversees horse administration, has just died in a suspicious fall—doesn't that confirm our suspicions?"

Chen Jingbang's expression shifted uncertainly.

It wasn't that he hadn't thought of it—he simply refused to consider it.

If true, wouldn't he be stepping into his new post at the Ministry of War to confront a colossal scandal?

Chen Jingbang, burdened with heavy thoughts, stood silently facing He Luowen.

At that moment,

Zhang Hong approached with two men.

The ministers quietly gathered around the emperor.

"Your Majesty, they've arrived," Zhang Hong bowed and stepped aside.

Hearing this, Zhu Yijun finally stopped trampling the soil and slowly turned around.

Two middle-aged officials stepped forward nervously: one in crimson robes, stern and composed; the other in blue robes, thin and weathered.

He recognized both men.

Zhao Tun had also served in the Yuanma Temple and, upon recommendation by the Ministry of War, was promoted to third-rank Censor of Shanxi.

But after only one year, due to poor performance in Shanxi and a low evaluation, he was demoted back to Director of the Yuanma Temple.

Later, for violating regulations by exploiting the courier system for private business, he was demoted further to Deputy Director of the Yuanma Temple.

Over these years, he had cycled through the Ministry of War's ranks, gradually rising again to third-rank, now overseeing the Taipu Temple—his career marked by constant ups and downs.

Ren Kai, by contrast, came from humble origins and left a much fainter impression.

Three years ago, he submitted a memorial proposing four reforms for pastures: surveying wasteland to prevent illegal occupation; evaluating officials to punish negligence; requiring supervisors to personally oversee collection and distribution; and adjusting grain and money allocations to determine merchant quotas—anyone who dared utter the words "land survey" clearly possessed keen insight and the ambition of a capable official.

Last year, he submitted another memorial accusing the Ministry of Revenue of fraud in fodder purchases: merchants placed fresh, high-quality bundles on top while hiding damp, rotten, lightweight ones beneath to sell at inflated prices, even disguising sand and soil as added weight.

These matters had been discussed in court sessions, so he remembered them; as for their career histories, Zhu Yijun had no time to recall.

The two men approached and immediately knelt to bow before the emperor.

"Your servant, Director of the Taipu Temple Zhao Tun, bows before Your Majesty."

"The guilty official, Director of Pastures under the Ministry of Revenue, Ren Kai, bows before Your Majesty."

Aside from the fine sweat on their necks and foreheads, both men appeared calm and composed, displaying remarkable self-control.

Their differing self-identifications—minor sixth-rank official versus third-rank senior minister—reflected the natural hierarchy of their ranks.

Whether either was truly guilty remained uncertain.

The Emperor did not immediately order the two men to rise; he silently studied them.

Time passed slowly.

The court ministers watched coldly.

Only when the two men, under mounting pressure, were sweating down their cheeks to their chins did the Emperor finally move.

Letting them remain in their prostrate posture, Zhu Yijun softly parted his lips and spoke calmly: "What do you have to say to me?"

His voice carried only a hint of coldness, revealing no other emotion.

Yet these words intensified the pressure on the two men tenfold.

Zhao Tun lowered his head, blinked hard several times, and drew a deep breath to ease his inner dread.

As if he had rehearsed this moment countless times in his mind, he bowed again and spoke in a deep tone: "Your Majesty, the abuses in the grasslands are grave; the Ministry of Imperial Stables bears full responsibility!"

"Yet the urgent matter now is to survey and reclaim the grasslands, returning farmland to pasture. I humbly beg Your Majesty's mercy, allowing me to serve while bearing my guilt!"

His tone was firm and sincere, showing not the slightest attempt to evade blame.

Zhu Yijun shook his head: "You have spent many years in the Imperial Horse Bureau and the Ministry of Imperial Stables—yet now you claim ignorance? Either you are evading responsibility, or you are incompetent."

"Even if I were to show mercy, I could at most permit you to retire and return home."

He waved his hand: "Say something else."

Hearing this, Zhao Tun's heart turned cold.

Only with the Emperor's mercy could one retire gracefully—so what fate awaited without it? The Emperor's words left no ambiguity.

Truly, the imperial family is the most heartless of all.

Yet he himself had no way to voice his suffering.

When he was in the Imperial Horse Bureau, he had no power base; the bureau's affairs were never under his control, constantly interfered with by the Ministry of Imperial Stables.

Only later, when he joined the corruption, used the relay stations for private trade, and brought profit to the bureau's staff—thereby submitting his "loyalty oath" to his superiors—did his situation improve.

After his promotion to the Ministry of Imperial Stables, his spirit was already broken; he lost interest in the duties and delegated authority to the Minister of the Imperial Horse Bureau.

Now that trouble had arisen, he was utterly in the dark—and yet the Emperor held him accountable. His heart burned with bitter resentment.

Zhao Tun, choked with inner anguish, was about to speak—

When the Assistant Director of Grasslands under the Ministry of Revenue, Ren Kai, suddenly interrupted: "Your Majesty, I have something to say!"

Zhu Yijun held a relatively favorable impression of this junior official, so he nodded calmly, granting him permission to speak despite the breach of protocol between a low-ranking clerk and a third-rank minister.

Ren Kai, granted permission, spoke clearly: "Your Majesty, this year the five grasslands near the capital were scheduled to supply 940,000 bundles of horse fodder—but only 290,000 bundles were actually delivered!"

As soon as he spoke, every eye in the hall snapped toward him.

Zhao Tun turned his head in shock, staring at Ren Kai beside him—he had no idea this had happened.

Chen Jingbang furrowed his brow and gripped He Luowen's shoulder, squeezing hard enough to make him wince.

Zhu Yijun and Vice Minister of Revenue Fan Yingqi exchanged a glance, both revealing unmistakable surprise.

The latter, unable to contain himself, stepped forward without regard for propriety and demanded: "How much?"

In moments of shock, people often ask a foolish question—to buy time to process what they've heard.

Ren Kai remained calm and repeated earnestly: "The horse fodder delivered this June, under my own hand, amounted to only 293,734 bundles!"

Zhao Tun cried out loudly: "The official documents from the Imperial Horse Bureau and your Ministry of Revenue both clearly state that the full 940,000 bundles were delivered!"

Ren Kai had his answer ready: he shook his head. "The remaining 640,000 bundles were never handled by me—they were taken over by Gao Shi."

Gao Shi was the Director, his superior; the paperwork naturally showed no irregularity.

Moreover, the implication was clear: the chief clerks who drafted the documents—the Minister of the Imperial Horse Bureau and the Director of Revenue—had both died suddenly, lending credibility to his claim.

Zhao Tun Mianqiang pulled at his lips and said hoarsely: "That doesn't prove only Ren's delivery was real."

Ren Kai pressed his lips together: "He didn't deliver them at all. The wheel ruts from the carts leaving the warehouse clearly show they were empty."

"Summon the warehouse clerks from that time—they'll confirm it!"

Hearing this, Zhao Tun fell silent.

Only his shifting expression betrayed his inner turmoil.

Zhu Yijun listened intently for a long while, and now understood why Zhao Tun looked so shaken.

Sixty-four thousand bundles of fodder? Not worth much—perhaps twenty thousand taels at most. In corruption cases, it barely registered.

The real issue lay elsewhere.

Zhu Yijun paused, then did not immediately order an investigation. Instead, he turned to Fan Yingqi and confirmed: "I recall that this autumn, the Ministry of Revenue purchased fodder."

For autumn defense, the five grasslands near the capital traditionally stored horse fodder—sometimes purchasing, sometimes selling surplus.

Of course, the trend was familiar: initially, there were annual surpluses to subsidize the Ministry of Imperial Stables; by the Hongzhi era, it stabilized; after Jiajing, annual purchases became necessary to replenish stocks.

Though Fan Yingqi had not been Vice Minister of Revenue at the time, as Director of the Court of Imperial Entertainments, he was still a senior official within the Ministry; even if he hadn't handled the matter directly, he had at least reviewed it.

He bowed solemnly to the Emperor and replied: "Your Majesty, this is correct."

"On the twenty-seventh day of the first month, the Ministry of Revenue convened a meeting: aside from what had already been distributed, the five grasslands were to maintain a reserve of 1.5 million bundles. This autumn, they were to be replenished to that level. From the twelfth year onward, the policy shall alternate: one year purchase, one year release, and every three years, old fodder is replaced with new—no new administrative names needed; simply pile it outside the gates."

"This was reported to the Wenhua Hall's regular audience and approved."

"In February, the Ministry allocated funds; by April, they had purchased 970,000 bundles, bringing the total reserve to 1.5 million."

Though Fan's status as a top imperial graduate might raise suspicions of favoritism, his jinshi credentials were genuine—and his memory was exceptional.

Zhu Yijun nodded, then turned his gaze between Ren Kai and Zhao Tun: "So the grasslands are not short of fodder to distribute—they simply don't need to deliver so much to the garrisons."

"If this is true…"

Zhu Yijun paused, his eyes fixed on Minister of Imperial Stables Zhao Tun: "Zhao Qing, tell me—how many horses does our army actually maintain?"

Zhao Tun's face turned instantly ashen.

This was precisely why he had fought so hard against Ren Kai.

This wasn't about how much was stolen—it was about how much of the Great Ming's horse population was fiction!

The scale of horse breeding that consumed 940,000 bundles versus the scale that consumed 290,000 bundles was worlds apart!

It couldn't be that soldiers paid for their own horses!

So where had all the horses gone over the years?

And how much of the Great Ming's cavalry existed only on paper?

Zhao Tun stammered for a long while, unable to answer the Emperor's question. His knees buckled, and he collapsed to the ground, crying out: "Your Majesty, I have only been in office six months—I truly had no knowledge of this!"

Embezzlement of grasslands? He could accept blame for negligence.

But horse policy—the very foundation of the state? To pin that on him would mean death.

Watching silently throughout, Minister of Rites Wang Zongyi suddenly lowered his head, and at the sight, sighed deeply.

No wonder they dared to seize grasslands so brazenly, showing no fear of the fodder's use.

No wonder even this minor offense of grassland encroachment had led senior officials to die overnight.

The truth was: there simply weren't this many horses to feed…

Wang Zongyi glanced at Zhao Tun, drew a deep breath, and suppressed the heat rising in his chest.

This was why, when the Emperor first showed excessive ruthlessness, he had pleaded for restraint—yet within mere days, his attitude had quietly shifted.

These men were truly vermin of the state!

Didn't they know horse policy was the foundation of the realm? Didn't they care that the border armies were useless, that the Tartars could ride straight through? Did they truly believe the northern barbarians would treat Han people kindly if they breached the passes?

Even he, Wang Zongyi, now felt a rising fury—he could barely suppress the urge to kill!

To claim ignorance? It was utterly contemptible.

At that moment, Vice Minister of War Chen Jingbang, as if sensing the same thought, erupted in rage: "You've served in the Imperial Horse Bureau and then the Ministry of Imperial Stables for at least five or six years! You can't escape blame by saying you knew nothing!"

He had left behind a gaping hole for him to fill.

How could he not rage?

Zhao Tun didn't even look at Chen Jingbang; he only kowtowed repeatedly to the Emperor, frantically pleading: "Your Majesty! When I was in the Imperial Horse Bureau, I was under the Ministry of Imperial Stables' control. When I was promoted to the Ministry, my superior was transferred to the Ministry of War. I never truly held authority over horse policy or the grasslands! I beg Your Majesty to see the truth!"

Chen Jingbang opened his mouth to roar again—

But Wang Xijue cut in sharply: "You're doomed, and still trying to drag others down? Speak of your own crimes!"

Shifting blame was the instinct of every corrupt official.

Without evidence, dragging others into the mire was meaningless—no need to listen.

You can't blame every superior just because they held higher rank—everyone has a superior.

As Minister of Personnel, Wang Xijue had the duty to control the scope of the scandal.

Especially since Zhao Tun was clearly implicating Luo Fengxiang of the Jin Faction.

This Luo Fengxiang had been promoted by Yang Bo, who in turn answered to Minister of War Shi Mao, Grand Secretary Wang Chonggu, and even the retired former Grand Secretary Ma Ziqiang—who knew how far the chain extended?

If this chain of accusations was allowed to spiral, the matter would spiral out of control.

Especially now, at the critical moment of land survey and household registration—baseless accusations must not be tolerated.

At that moment, a sigh rang out.

"I know you mean Luo Fengxiang."

All turned to look.

The Emperor's expression was filled with sorrow as he shook his head.

Seeing this, Wang Zongyi hesitated, then spoke: "Your Majesty, we should let the Censorate investigate before reaching any conclusion. We cannot rely on hearsay."

This was the voice of prudence; the ministers nodded in agreement.

Could subordinates later claim, "My superior was in charge—I knew nothing," whenever they failed?

Zhu Yijun nodded: "I know. Whether Minister Luo is involved remains unconfirmed. Whether horse policy is corrupt at all is still uncertain."

"We must investigate to find out."

Wang Zongyi bowed slightly, about to praise His Majesty's wisdom.

But the Emperor spoke again: "Yet this matter is beyond the Censorate's reach—unless you turn the Ministry of War upside down, where will you find even a trace?"

Over these years, the Ministry of Personnel and the Ministry of Revenue—one handling appointments, the other the treasury—he held both firmly in his grip.

The Ministry of Rites and the Ministry of War, however, remain firmly in the hands of the Jin Faction, and Zhu Yijun has shown them full respect.

Ma Ziqiang of the Ministry of Rites has reciprocated that respect, always cooperating fully.

But Shi Maohua of the Ministry of War? That's another story entirely.

Water cannot seep in. If the Censorate investigates, the blame will inevitably pile onto this very man, the Director of the Temple of Horses.

Upon hearing this, Wang Xijue stepped forward suddenly: "Your Majesty, I may return to the capital to assist."

Zhu Yijun said nothing for a moment.

After a long silence, the Emperor finally responded.

Suddenly, without warning, Zhu Yijun drew the long sword from Jiang Keqian's waist—its blade gleamed cold and sharp.

The blade's light flashed across Zhao Tun's face; his body instantly went limp.

He collapsed to the ground, eyes wide with terror, legs twitching as he scrambled backward—did the Emperor despise him for dragging the Jin Faction into this? Was he about to be silenced by death!?

The ministers reacted with shock at the Emperor's drawn blade.

Wang Zongyi's eyelid twitched; he hurried forward: "Your Majesty…"

Zhu Yijun shook his head, then suddenly turned the blade, slicing through his own sleeve, and gave it a light flick.

A scrap of fabric floated midair, when a hand snatched it out of the air.

Zhu Yijun turned to Zhang Hong and said slowly: "Zhang Daban, take these two men back to the capital and hand them over to Wang Chonggu. Also, bring this sleeve fragment to him, and tell him…"

"Tell him, whether the problem lies in the Ministry of War, the Jin Faction, or even in Wang Chonggu himself—I demand an explanation."

He paused, then added softly: "This scrap of sleeve—whether it is a severed sleeve or a cut robe—depends entirely on his choice."

With that, he waved his hand.

The ministers fell silent.

Zhang Hong bowed deeply, accepted the fabric, and slowly withdrew.

The Director of the Temple of Horses, Zhao Tun, and the Superintendent of Pasture Affairs of the Ministry of Revenue, Ren Kai, followed Zhang Hong—one walking, the other carried.

When Zhang Hong had left, Zhu Yijun's thoughts swirled, and he turned to depart.

Then he suddenly remembered something.

Zhu Yijun returned to himself, returned the long sword to Jiang Keqian, and ordered: "Lord Yutian, return to the capital and seek out Gu Huan and Xu Wenbi."

Jiang Keqian bowed and withdrew.

Only then did Zhu Yijun turn to the ministers and sigh: "This tour has truly opened my eyes—like a pilgrimage, I've encountered seventy-two corruptions."

"And we've only covered half."

He waved his hand and turned away first: "The road is long and fraught—let us continue."