The rain had stopped.
But the dark clouds over Xianyang were heavier than the lingering winter rain.
Prime Minister’s Residence.
The lamp had not been extinguished all night.
Li Si sat at his desk.
His official hat lay crooked to one side, his hair disheveled.
In just one night—
the Prime Minister of Great Qin had already gone half white at the temples.
Before him lay two objects.
A completed memorial.
And a sharp dagger.
The memorial was a plea for punishment.
It proposed abolishing the Dragon Notes, restoring copper coin standard, and calming public outrage.
The dagger—
was for himself.
He knew that the moment this memorial was submitted, it would be the moment he, Li Si, offered his head to end this catastrophe.
“Chancellor…”
A subordinate knelt outside the door, voice trembling.
“Wan’guo Workshop… is about to collapse.”
“The major grain merchants have joined forces—they are demanding settlement in gold.”
“They said if they don’t see gold within one hour, they will… they will open their grain stores, and burn all Dragon Notes in their possession as waste…”
Li Si closed his eyes.
His hand slowly reached toward the cold dagger.
It was over.
The foundation had been broken.
The treasury of Great Qin had been ruined by his own hands.
“Your Majesty…”
He murmured.
“This minister… is guilty.”
At that moment—
“Report!”
A hoarse, almost inhuman shout came from outside the residence.
“Eastern Sea! Eight-hundred-li urgent dispatch!”
A dusty messenger stumbled into the study.
He held high a wax-sealed bamboo tube.
Thud!
The messenger collapsed on the ground and fainted.
The bamboo tube rolled to Li Si’s feet.
Li Si froze.
He looked down at it.
As if it were a poisonous snake waiting to strike.
Was it a death warrant?
Was it an imperial decree ordering his execution?
Trembling, he picked it up.
Opened it.
Inside were two sheets of parchment.
He unfolded the first.
It was Fusu’s handwriting.
Messy, but filled with a sharp, murderous energy.
“…bandits suppressed, three thousand captured, mining area restored.”
“Wang Li is unharmed, three hundred soldiers survived.”
Li Si’s hand shook.
They were saved?
They survived?
He continued reading.
“…Ninth Prince arrived in person, brought the divine craftsman Ah Chou, and introduced the method of ‘using fire to conquer stone’.”
“Massive rocks collapsed like dry rot being cut down.”
“I am not even one ten-thousandth as capable as the Ninth Prince.”
Li Si’s breathing halted.
He immediately unfolded the second sheet.
It was not text.
It was a diagram.
A mountain, rows of drilled holes, strange connecting lines.
Beside it, small annotations written in symbols he could not understand.
But at the very end—
there was a line of writing.
Scrawled by Gongshu Chou’s mute apprentice, rough but deeply carved into the parchment:
“New extraction method requires no deep excavation.”
“Advance along the mountain; output can be doubled per day.”
“Monthly silver output may exceed… two hundred thousand jin!”
Two hundred thousand jin!
Li Si’s eyes suddenly widened.
He stared at those words as if trying to bore through the parchment.
What was it before?
Forty-five thousand taels per month.
Converted, less than thirty thousand jin.
Now…
Two hundred thousand jin!
Not just doubled!
It was nearly a sevenfold increase!
“Hahaha…”
Li Si suddenly laughed.
At first it was a low laugh.
Then it grew louder.
More and more unrestrained.
“HAHAHAHAHAHA!”
As he laughed, tears streamed down his face.
He had survived a disaster!
This was not a calamity!
This was an unprecedented blessing from heaven!
He abruptly stood up.
Snatched the memorial he had spent the entire night writing—one he had prepared to stake his entire clan’s life on—and tore it apart.
Riiip!
Tore it to shreds!
Paper fragments fell like snowflakes.
“Chancellor?”
The kneeling subordinate was stunned.
Li Si ignored him.
He shoved open the door and rushed outside.
Dawn had broken.
A strand of morning light shone on his face—half laughing, half crying.
He bowed deeply toward the direction of the imperial palace.
But he was not bowing to the First Emperor.
He was bowing to that unfathomable Ninth Prince far away in the Eastern Sea!
“Someone!”
Li Si straightened up, his voice once again filled with authority and decisiveness.
“Issue my orders!”
A court official hurried forward.
“First!”
Li Si raised one finger, his voice echoing through the entire residence.
“All state-run exchange points—open the granaries!”
“Unlimited gold redemption!”
“Anyone who wants to exchange—let them exchange! Exchange until they no longer dare to!”
The official froze.
“Chancellor, our gold reserves—”
“Second!”
Li Si cut him off immediately, his voice rising even higher.
“Send the order!”
“From this moment on, the court will purchase all surplus grain, cloth, and iron from the people at ten percent above market price!”
“Buy everything!”
“As much as there is, we take it!”
At that moment—
Xianyang City changed overnight.
Wan’guo Workshop
The bearded Western merchant who had been crying a few days ago was now clutching a bag of gold, desperately pushing toward the counter.
“Exchange it! Exchange it back!”
“I don’t want my gold anymore! I want Dragon Notes!”
“Whoever dares say Dragon Notes are waste paper—I’ll fight him to the death!”
In front of the counter, it was a sea of people.
Those who had previously dumped Dragon Notes like plague-ridden trash were now red-faced and panicking.
Gold, silver, and copper coins were held in their hands.
They were practically begging the clerks to exchange them back into Dragon Notes.
“Line up! All of you, line up!”
“Anyone who cuts in line is making an enemy of Great Qin!”
Black-armored soldiers formed a wall of halberds.
Outside the crowd, several onlookers discussed excitedly.
“See? I told you—His Majesty and the Ninth Prince wouldn’t fail. Those who dumped Dragon Notes a few days ago must be crying now!”
“This is what they call ‘national fortune’! Even with the silver mountain collapsed, output still doubled—Great Qin is destined to rise!”
A craftsman who had just come from the Ministry of Works whispered mysteriously:
“Did you hear? It’s not national fortune—it’s the Ninth Prince!”
“He summoned heavenly thunder and split the mountain open in a single strike!”
A bread seller nearby shook his head.
“What thunder? My relative works at the Ministry of Works. They say the Ninth Prince used an immortal technique called ‘turning stone into gold’!”
“Whatever it is!” a burly man carrying a sack slapped his Dragon Notes.
“I only recognize this!”
“This thing is harder than gold!”
City Wall
Ying Ziye stood at the highest point, looking down at the bustling city below—now even more frenzied than before.
Xianyang had come alive again.
Not because it was calm—
but because it had become even more intense.
He finished the last candied hawthorn.
“Crisis… crisis.”
His childish voice drifted in the wind.
“In crisis… lies opportunity.”
“A controllable disaster is more effective than any propaganda in building confidence.”
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