The Azure Mountain

Chapter 132: Words as Imperial Decrees

Under the incredibly simple thatched porridge shed, the government runners had built a stove out of gray bricks, and a faint fragrance of rice drifted from eight boiling cauldrons.

Wang Daosheng patiently explained to the runner, "In a year of great disaster, even if it hasn't reached the point of Exchanging Children to Eat Them, the brothels will definitely come to buy young girls. Don't worry, I won't make things difficult for you. Just report my name to Lord Zhang Zhuo. He and I can be considered old acquaintances."

Just as Chen Ji thought the runner was going to argue back, he saw the man suddenly back down, looking sheepish as he said, "So it is Lord Wang. This humble official had eyes but failed to recognize Mount Tai."

"Commandery Princess, is Mr. Wang very famous?" Chen Ji asked Bai Li in a low voice.

Bai Li gave him a surprised look before leaning in gently and whispering, "Have you really never heard of Mr. Wang's name? He was already famous throughout the world years ago when he took second place as Bangyan in the imperial examinations."

Chen Ji gave a noncommittal hum. He genuinely hadn't known his new teacher had such a grand reputation that merely stating his name was enough to make the prefectural office runners act so respectfully.

At this moment, the runner looked at Wang Daosheng, stating with some difficulty, "Lord Wang, we can handle the registration, but as you can see, there are only about a dozen of us runners here at the porridge shed. In a little while, we won't even have enough hands to distribute the porridge... Could we wait until we call in some more manpower?"

Wang Daosheng glanced at the porridge shed, then at the number of runners. "You go focus on registering them. We will handle the porridge shed."

The runner was momentarily stunned. "My Lord, ladling out several thousand bowls of porridge is grueling physical labor. How could we let you do it in our stead?"

Wang Daosheng did not answer him, directly asking Chen Ji and the others instead, "Do any of you have a problem with this?""Don't worry, Sir. I have no problem," Chen Ji answered.

Bai Li smiled as she rolled up her sleeves. "I have no problem either, Sir!"

Seeing this, Zhang Xia immediately tied Zaozao's reins next to the porridge shed, rolling up her sleeves as she walked over. "Sir, we have no problems."

At this moment, the Prince Heir spoke up, "We don't have enough people."

On the ox cart outside the porridge shed, Chen Wenzong slowly watched this scene in silence for a long time.

When the Prince Heir's gaze swept over, he instantly tried to stand up, but Chen Wenxiao grabbed his arm and yanked him back. "Brother, what are you doing? We're here on a study tour, not to do manual labor. I've seen those runners distributing porridge—they ladle thousands of scoops until their arms swell up. It's usually only the out-of-favor runners in the prefectural office who get sent to do this agonizing chore in the freezing cold."

Chen Wenzong's expression was stern. "Say no more. You and I have studied the texts of the sages for over a decade. Are we unable to even distinguish this bit of right from wrong? The reason I didn't get off the cart earlier was because Chen Ji made a mistake himself, so there was no need for the rest of us to be burdened because of him. But now, this is doing something for the common people! How can you and I shrink back? Let go!"

He threw off Chen Wenxiao's hand, hopping down from the ox cart and rolling up his sleeves. "Sir, I will help too."

Left all alone on the cart, Chen Wenxiao hesitated for a good while before finally hanging his head, jumping down, and standing beside Chen Wenzong.

Wang Daosheng lifted the lid off one of the pots, allowing a cloud of steam to rise into the air. When the white vapor dissipated somewhat, everyone furrowed their brows. The rice soup was overly watery, so clear that they could see the grains resting on the bottom of the pot at a single glance.

Looking at the runners with a solemn face, Chen Wenzong confronted them. "Why is the porridge so thin? Our dynasty's ironclad law dictates that when distributing porridge, a chopstick stood upright in it must not fall. How dare you cook porridge this thin?"

The runner turned pale with fright. "It wasn't us who wanted to cook it this thin. It was Lord Zhang who ordered it."

"Lord Zhang?"

"That's right," the runner explained. "Lord Zhang said there wasn't enough grain left. If he wants the people of the west and south districts to survive the winter, we absolutely cannot make thick porridge. If we truly distributed porridge according to court regulations, the porridge sheds would run out of grain in just fifteen days."

"Is there no grain left in the Luo City granaries either?" Chen Wenzong asked in confusion. "I recall that the autumn grain harvest was just transported to Luo City last month."

The runner hurriedly replied, "Lord Zhang said we can no longer touch the grain in the official granaries. If a military order comes to requisition grain and the granaries don't have enough, heads will roll."

"Is there no other way? Where is Lord Zhang?"

"Lord Zhang said he went to think of a way..."

Zhang Xia asked curiously, "What about Lord Chen? I remember Lord Chen has the strongest principles. He surely wouldn't just sit by and do nothing, right?"

The runner hesitated.

Impatient, Zhang Xia pressed, "Spit it out!"

The runner stammered, "Lord Zhang found a bunch of shysters and old bachelors to file lawsuits at the yamen, dragging Lord Chen down so he's stuck in the prefectural office..."

Zhang Xia was stunned. "Ah, this!"

Wang Daosheng raised a hand to halt the conversation. "You runners go start registering. We'll handle distributing the porridge here."

With that, he spoke out to the refugees, "Come forward to receive porridge. The elderly, the weak, women, and children have priority."

His voice seemed to drift outward. Surprisingly, despite not being loud, it effortlessly carried across a distance of several hundred meters.

Chen Ji was startled. He watched as the refugees slowly got to their feet and actually, one by one, allowed the elderly, the weak, the women, and the children to move to the very front of the line!

He had seen the porridge distribution outside the west gate before, and he knew what the refugees were like. With everyone starved to the point of being just skin and bones, who still cared about respecting the elderly or cherishing the young?

Yet with just a single sentence, Mr. Wang made it happen!

Could it be that Mr. Wang was also a Practitioner?

Chen Ji silently looked toward the Prince Heir and Bai Li. "Mr. Wang just now..."

Bai Li whispered, "My father said that Sir walks the path of the sages. His words are as forceful as imperial decrees, and they can enlighten all living things. However, Father also said that Sir hasn't figured some things out yet, so he isn't considered a true sage."

Chen Ji cast a glance at Mr. Wang before silently picking up a massive wooden ladle, serving out the rice porridge to the refugees in line, one by one.

The wooden ladle was far too heavy for a girl. Bai Li had only swung it a few dozen times before her arms grew so sore she could barely lift them. All she could do was grit her teeth and persist. "If only Brother Mao'er were here. He has infinite strength."

Meanwhile, Chen Ji suddenly realized that as he scooped ladles of rice porridge for the refugees... the color of the twenty-six Furnace Fires within his body had actually shifted slightly. Although it was incredibly subtle and slow, every bit of this change was absolutely real.

It was just like the heat of the Downdraft Kiln. At six hundred degrees, it was cherry red; at nine hundred degrees, it was a bright orange; and when it surpassed thirteen hundred degrees, it turned pure white.

When the twenty-six Furnace Fires first ignited, they were cherry red. Now, that red color was fading bit by bit, accompanied by an increasingly boundless surge of vitality.

Chen Ji remembered that time during his dream on Green Mountain. There was a moment when all the Furnace Fires in his body had blazed to life simultaneously, and at that moment, they had been pure white.

How strange. Why were the Furnace Fires changing? Was it because he was helping the refugees? But he had helped the refugees back at the west gate earlier, hadn't he?

Wait...

The only difference between that time and this time was that, back then, his face had been masked.

Before Chen Ji could figure it out, the creaking sound of wooden wheels echoed from the city gates.

Dozens of handcarts pulled sacks of grain out of the city, followed by an official palanquin. The grain was piled high on the carts like miniature mountains, making even the official palanquin appear rather inconspicuous by comparison.

A moment later, the bearers set the palanquin on the ground, and Lord Zhang Zhuo, dressed in his scarlet Official Robe, stepped out looking exceptionally pleased with himself.

He looked toward the group working under the porridge shed, his eyes widening in surprise. "Oh? Why are all of you here?"

Zhang Xia dashed forward like a gust of wind, hugging his arm. "Father! Where did you find so much grain this time?"

Zhang Zhuo chuckled cheerfully and stroked his beard. "Your father conjured it using immortal arts! Isn't that incredible?"

Zhang Xia gave him a thumbs up. "Incredible!"

Wang Daosheng walked over to the carts and pinched a sack of grain, feeling it casually before realizing what was going on. "This is fresher than government grain. This is the autumn harvest that the merchants have just stockpiled this year. To think that they would actually be willing to donate this to you... No, you bought it."

Zhang Zhuo laughed. "You led troops for a few years, and you actually managed to figure out whether the grain was fresh or not just by touching it through the burlap sack? And here I thought you had turned into a complete bookworm ages ago!"

But Wang Daosheng couldn't laugh. Frowning, he looked at Zhang Zhuo. "During your tenure in Yangzhou, you did something outrageous for this exact reason. After you left your post, the Memorials to the Throne impeaching you flew into the Capital City like snowflakes in a blizzard! If Elder Xu hadn't suppressed the matter of you selling offices and titles, I'm afraid you would already be sitting behind bars. But you keep acting this way. Sooner or later, this will all end in disaster. When the censors and reviewing officials uncover the truth, all it will take is for them to impeach you once before the Emperor, and you'll lose everything."

Zhang Zhuo looked haughty, exuding a domineering arrogance. "As long as Elder Xu is the Grand Secretary of the Cabinet, no censor or official will dare to impeach me!"

"What if Elder Xu is no longer the Grand Secretary?" Wang Daosheng sighed.

"By that time, I will be the Grand Secretary of the Cabinet myself!" Zhang Zhuo declared proudly.

Shaking his head faintly, Wang Daosheng said again, "Even a Grand Secretary of the dynasty would find it very difficult to hide the truth from the entire world with one hand. Dong Shi wrote to me, saying that he has been promoted to Supervising Censor and is now about to inspect the matters from your time in Yangzhou. He and the Xu Family have been at odds for a very long time. If he..."

Cutting him off, Zhang Zhuo impatiently waved his sleeve. Seeing that there were no runners or refugees in the immediate vicinity, he angrily snapped, "You're only a few years older than me, so stop lecturing me all the time! I use the money of corrupt officials to do good things for the commoners—what the hell is wrong with that? If I don't do this, what will these refugees eat? What will they drink? Are we supposed to wait on the court's silver? Just how long would that take? By the time it arrived, the refugees would have starved to death!"

When Chen Ji heard this, he suddenly recalled the rumors surrounding Zhang Zhuo, as well as Shopkeeper Yuan from the Hundred Deer Pavilion and his Account Books. He finally realized where this latest shipment of grain had come from.

As he continued, Zhang Zhuo sneered at Wang Daosheng. "If you can't stand the sight of my methods, you're perfectly welcome to report me and reveal the truth to Dong Shi! Let me just ask you one question—do you want these refugees to survive the winter or not?"

Zhang Zhuo and Wang Daosheng stood side by side, facing each other. One was clad in a bright scarlet Official Robe, the white pheasant embroidered on his rank badge looking so lifelike it could almost fly off his chest. The other was dressed in a faded blue scholarly robe, its blue dye washed out from years of scrubbing.

It was as though two people whose destinies should never have crossed paths had bumped into each other, matching each other blow for blow.

Everyone else held their breath. It felt as though two massive mountains were crushing down upon them, leaving them too afraid to even exhale loudly.

In the end, it was Wang Daosheng whose voice broke the silence. "Dong Shi and I are well-acquainted," he said softly. "When I return from my study tour in a few days, I will write him a letter. I'll tell him not to look into the matters of Yangzhou."

Throwing his head back with a booming laugh, Zhang Zhuo clapped Wang Daosheng on the shoulder. "I knew it! After all these years, you still aren't like those pedantic scholars! Dong Shi reveres your knowledge. He respects you as a master. If you are willing to speak with him, he will definitely drop the case. Once you return from your tour, I'll go find you, and we'll grab a drink!"

Wang Daosheng casually swatted Zhang Zhuo's hand away. "Sooner or later, you're going to take a nasty tumble over this issue."

Zhang Zhuo's expression shifted. "You shouldn't just run your mouth saying things like that! Hurry up and spit out the bad luck!"

Too lazy to pay him any more heed, Wang Daosheng turned around and headed back toward the porridge shed. Continuing to ladle out the gruel, he finished, "Don't worry... I'm not that incredible."