DLERB -Chapter 132 Father Emperor, Do We Need a Meeting Just to Fill a Fish Pond?

Inside the imperial study.

The golden, divine aura had not yet fully dissipated.

The floor tiles had turned into warm jade, and the air carried a faint fragrance of newly sprouting vegetation.

Ying Zheng sat on the dragon throne, his fingers lightly tapping the armrest.

His gaze fell upon Fusu.

“Fusu.”

Ying Zheng’s voice was calm.

“How do you think those two hundred thousand Xiongnu surrendered prisoners should be handled?”

Meng Tian stood to the side, his posture straight as a spear.

He also looked at Fusu.

This question was an unavoidable threshold.

It was also the final test for this former benevolent crown prince.

Fusu stepped out from the ranks.

The bloodiness on his body had already been washed away, replaced by an iron-like, hardened will.

“Father Emperor.”

Fusu raised his head, his gaze calm and unshaken.

“They are not prisoners of war.”

He paused slightly, his tone utterly steady.

“They are two hundred thousand units of material that can be used to build city walls.”

Material.

The moment that word was spoken—

Meng Tian’s arm muscles tightened slightly.

He looked at Fusu.

That once gentle and elegant face could no longer be found.

Only absolute, cold rationality remained.

As if he were looking at a pile of stone or sand.

Not two hundred thousand living people.

Ying Zheng finally smiled.

“Good.”

Ying Ziye sat on the steps, swinging his legs back and forth.

He pulled a huge chicken leg from his robe—a “divine bird” raised on Dragon Fang Rice, its meat firm and dense.

Crack.

He took a bite and mumbled indistinctly,

“Big brother is right.”

“Resource optimization is basic operation.”

After a few bites, he casually tossed the bone into a golden cauldron in the corner of the hall with a clear clang.

Ying Ziye clapped his greasy hands.

He jumped down the steps and walked into the center of the hall.

Rustle.

A huge sheepskin map, tanned with the latest techniques, was thrown onto the ground and spread open.

It was a full map of Great Qin and the northern grasslands.

Ying Ziye stepped directly onto it with his small feet.

His finger crossed the Great Wall, crossed the Yin Mountains, and pointed deep into the grasslands.

All the way to the winter royal court that once belonged to Chanyu Touman.

“Here.”

Ying Ziye poked the spot hard with his finger.

“Build a city.”

Meng Tian’s eyes flickered.

He quickly stepped forward and bent down to look at the map.

“Ninth Prince, this place… this is more than eight hundred li from Shangjun!”

Meng Tian’s voice changed slightly.

“Building a city eight hundred li deep into the grasslands? Impossible!”

“The supply lines for stone, timber, and grain would collapse! Even with two hundred thousand laborers, it would take ten or twenty years just to dig the foundation!”

For the first time, this imperial general lost his composure in front of the court.

This wasn’t war.

This was throwing human lives and the national treasury into a bottomless pit.

“Ten years?”

Ying Ziye laughed.

He stood up from the ground and walked over to Meng Tian.

On his tiptoes, he patted Meng Tian’s armor.

“Uncle Meng Tian.”

“Your imagination is limiting Great Qin’s progress.”

Ying Ziye turned around and pulled out a wrinkled piece of paper from his sleeve.

He slapped it onto the desk in front of Ying Zheng.

“Father Emperor, take a look at this.”

Ying Zheng picked up the paper.

Strange symbols and flow-like diagrams were drawn on it.

“Limestone, clay, iron powder…”

Ying Zheng read aloud, his brows slightly furrowed.

These were all extremely common materials.

“This is called cement.”

Ying Ziye’s tone carried a hint of teasing.

“Take these worthless stones and soil, grind them into powder in this ratio, and burn them in fire until they’re completely refined.”

He paused, looking at Meng Tian’s confused expression.

“The resulting powder, mixed with sand and water…”

“It will turn into liquid.”

“One day later—”

Ying Ziye grinned.

“It will turn into stone harder than your head.”

Meng Tian stood frozen in place.

His mouth was slightly open, as if he had just heard something out of a myth.

Mud and water… can turn into stone?

Ying Zheng’s grip on the paper tightened slightly.

He was thinking.

He was already thinking through the implications.

If this was real—

What did it mean?

It meant Great Qin would no longer need decades to mine, carve, and transport massive stones.

Building cities would be as easy as pouring tofu pudding into a mold.

The Great Wall could rise in a single day!

Fortresses could appear out of thin air!

“This thing… is it truly real?”

Ying Zheng’s voice was slightly dry.

“Father Emperor, if you don’t believe it, you can have the Gongshu family and the Mo family test it immediately.”

Ying Ziye looked utterly indifferent.

“One hour, and the result will be clear.”

The imperial study fell silent.

Only the heavy breathing of Ying Zheng and Meng Tian remained.

Their minds were being completely overturned by this thing called “cement.”

At that moment—

Fusu stepped forward again.

His voice broke the silence.

“Father Emperor.”

“I request permission to supervise the construction.”

Ying Zheng raised his head and looked at his eldest son.

There was burning intensity in Fusu’s eyes.

“I do not need craftsmen. I do not need soldiers.”

“Just give me those two hundred thousand Xiongnu.”

Fusu spread his hands, as if already gripping the future city in them.

“I will build a steel city in the heart of the grasslands using their bones as foundations and their flesh as mortar!”

His voice rose, fervent and intense.

“This city shall be named ‘Zhenbei’!”

“It will be like a nail driven deep into the heart of the grasslands, forcing them to never look south for five hundred years!”

“I will make every living Xiongnu personally build an eternal prison for their descendants!”

Ying Zheng looked at his son.

At the burning ambition and iron resolve in his eyes.

Slowly, he stood up.

“Good!”

“Good!”

“Good!”

Three consecutive “good”s.

He walked down the steps and firmly patted Fusu’s shoulder.

“This—this is the true heir of the Ying clan!”

“I approve!”

Ying Zheng then turned to Meng Tian.

“Meng Tian, you shall lead one hundred thousand elite cavalry to support Fusu’s flank.”

“At the same time, use the spirit spring water given by Ziye to transform the grasslands into Great Qin’s pastureland! I want a million warhorses that can travel a thousand li a day!”

“I obey your decree!”

Meng Tian knelt on one knee, his voice like a ringing bell.

All his doubts had already been replaced by overwhelming ambition.

The atmosphere in the imperial study reached a boiling point.

Ying Zheng looked at the map location pointed out by Ying Ziye and seemed to already see the silhouette of that black steel city rising from the earth.

His gaze moved beyond Zhenbei City, toward the unknown lands further west.

“With this city, there will be no more threats from the north.”

Ying Zheng’s voice carried unprecedented ambition.

“Next, it is time for those western barbarians to feel the might of Great Qin’s heavenly authority!”

Everyone’s blood was boiling with excitement.

A completely new era was beginning.

However—

At that moment, Ying Ziye let out a small yawn.

He looked utterly bored.

“Boring.”

He wandered over to the map.

Everyone’s attention focused on him.

They saw him casually pick up a brush from the desk, dip it into ink, and let it drip.

He did not look west.

Nor south.

His brush fell on the far eastern edge of the map.

That vast blank area representing the endless ocean.

Ying Ziye drew a large, crooked circle over it.

Ink splattered, staining the empty sea like a wound.

He did not even turn around.

He spoke lazily, as if it were nothing important.

“Father Emperor.”

“What’s happening on land at best is just us building a fence around our yard.”

He tapped the ink-stained ocean with the brush.

“Now…”

“Shouldn’t we talk about how to fill up this fish pond too?”