In the center of the Colosseum, the mountain of thousand-year civilization texts was still emitting black smoke.
The flames had already died out, but the scorched stench—mixed with the smell of parchment and blood—seeped into the noses of every Roman present.
Ying Ziye did not even glance at the pile of ashes.
He turned around and faced the kneeling, numb Romans.
“From today onward, establish the Western Qin Construction Corps.”
His voice was calm, yet it made everyone stiffen again.
A military scribe immediately stepped onto the makeshift platform and unfurled a long bamboo scroll.
“All Romans will be classified according to skill!”
The scribe’s voice was sharp and clear.
“Those who can forge iron—step forward!”
A commotion rose in the crowd. Several burly men were pushed out by Qin soldiers using spear shafts.
At the front was Bach.
The scribe glanced at the roster, then at Bach.
“Bach, appointed foreman of a hundred men. Responsible for refining all metals from the treasury!”
“Reward: one jin of meat, one jug of wine!”
Bach froze.
He looked at the meat and wine handed to him, his hands trembling.
“Th-thank you… Your Highness!”
He knelt heavily and bowed his head.
The surrounding Roman blacksmiths looked at him with envy.
“Stonemasons who can build houses—step forward!”
“Carpenters who can build ships—step forward!”
“Those who can count or write—step forward!”
…
On the platform, the scribe’s voice was like a whip.
Below, the Romans were brutally divided into dozens of formations.
Blacksmiths, stonemasons, carpenters, farmers, weavers…
A once-complex society was now reduced to a resource list.
An elderly man in relatively fine clothing was shoved into the “can count” line.
He had once been a Roman tax official managing the finances of the entire Gaul province.
“I… I used to be—”
Smack!
Bach, now standing proudly as a foreman, lashed his whip across the man’s back.
“Now you’re just a counting slave!”
Bach pointed at the wooden badge on his chest that read “Foreman,” his face twisted with arrogance.
“His Highness said it—here, only usefulness matters!”
“The useless are sent to the mines to dig stone—until they die!”
The old man clutched his back and dared not speak another word.
He stared at the blacksmith who once bowed and scraped before him, now holding power over his life.
Order had been rebuilt—in the most brutal and efficient way possible.
Rome’s Central Treasury
It was no longer a treasury, but a massive, blazing metal refinery.
Dozens of makeshift furnaces roared with fire.
“Quick! Throw that golden statue in!”
Bach waved his whip, directing several slaves.
It was a life-sized statue of Caesar made entirely of gold—a symbol of Roman glory.
The slaves struggled to carry it, hesitating.
“What? Still treating him like your king?”
Bach kicked one of them in the backside.
“He’s just gold now!”
“His Highness wants gold bricks! Don’t you understand?!”
The slaves no longer hesitated. They heaved and threw the shining statue into the roaring furnace.
Hiss—
The golden figure rapidly deformed and melted in the flames.
The face that once made the entire Mediterranean tremble twisted, then dissolved into a pool of molten gold.
Not far away…
Wang Jian and Meng Tian stood side by side.
They watched everything unfold, remaining silent for a long time.
Meng Tian picked up a newly cooled gold brick.
It was perfectly square, extremely heavy in his hand.
On its surface was a clear raised inscription in small seal script:
“Qin.”
“Old General,” Meng Tian’s voice was slightly dry, “I never thought war… could be fought like this.”
“This is not war.”
Wang Jian looked at the Roman slaves moving like ants, and at the artworks constantly being thrown into the furnaces.
“This is… formatting.”
He spat out the two words.
Meng Tian froze.
Then he understood.
What Ying Ziye was doing was not conquest, not occupation.
He was erasing an entire living civilization—removing every trace of it, breaking it down, melting it, and turning it into pure, quantifiable resources.
Gold, grain, labor.
Nothing else remained.
This method was even more terrifying than burying 400,000 soldiers alive.
Three Months Later
Rome Port.
It had completely changed.
The once-ruined docks had been expanded several times over.
More than a hundred brand-new massive warships were neatly anchored along the shore.
These ships had all been built by Roman craftsmen under Qin military supervision, working day and night without rest.
On the dock, a “human conveyor line” stretched as far as the eye could see.
Tens of thousands of Roman slaves stood in two orderly rows.
They mechanically passed gold bricks engraved with the character “Qin,” crates of jewels, and sacks of spices from the shore onto the ships.
No shouting.
No conversation.
Only the heavy sound of footsteps and the crack of whips cutting through the air.
The scene was vast…
Yet suffocatingly cold.
On the highest observation platform of the port, Ying Ziye stood against the wind.
Behind him stood Wang Jian and Meng Tian.
The two veteran generals looked at the endless golden fleet and the mountains of wealth, their breathing becoming slightly heavy.
They had spent their lives in war, destroying countless states—but they had never seen anything so shocking.
This was not spoils of war.
This was the entire essence of a civilization, forcibly drained, packaged, and taken away.
The sails of the fleet were fully raised.
Embroidered upon them was the black, ferocious Great Qin dragon banner.
“Set sail.”
Ying Ziye spoke softly.
A horn sounded.
The massive fleet, like a waking beast, slowly departed from the harbor—heading east, toward Qin.
The setting sun dyed the sea a golden color.
The fleet looked like a river of gold flowing across the ocean.
Wang Jian stared at the child’s back, his throat slightly dry.
He wanted to speak.
Wanted to ask what expression the Emperor of Xianyang would have upon seeing all this.
Ying Ziye seemed to know what he was thinking.
He did not turn around.
He simply said calmly:
“Tell Father Emperor…”
“This is only the appetizer.”
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