Xianyang.
Qilin Hall.
The morning court had only just begun for a quarter of an hour.
“Report!”
The messenger stumbled at the palace gate and nearly slipped.
He did not even bother getting up, lying flat on the ground as he shouted:
“The Ninth Prince’s fleet… has arrived!”
The brush in Ying Zheng’s hand froze mid-air.
“Has it been stored in the treasury?”
The messenger swallowed hard, pressing his forehead to the ground.
“Your Majesty… it cannot be stored.”
“Why not?”
“The treasury… is not large enough.”
The entire court looked at each other.
The Minister of Revenue and Grain (in charge of state finances) stepped forward, his beard bristling.
“Nonsense!”
“The imperial treasury is the foundation of Great Qin. It stores millions of shi of grain and countless gold and silver.”
“The Ninth Prince went to some barbaric western wasteland—how much could he possibly bring back? Enough to overflow the treasury?”
He bowed toward Ying Zheng.
“Your Majesty, this man is falsely reporting military affairs and exaggerating—he should be punished!”
Ying Zheng did not speak.
He heard it.
The sound of something heavy approaching.
The sound of wheels grinding across stone tiles.
Creak… creak…
It grew louder and louder.
Outside the hall, the light suddenly dimmed.
A group of bare-chested imperial guards appeared, chanting as they carried massive black wooden chests over the threshold.
Thud!
The first chest hit the ground.
A crack spread across the floor tiles.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
One after another.
Ten.
Fifty.
One hundred.
The originally spacious Qilin Hall quickly became crowded.
Li Si had to retreat all the way back to a pillar.
The Minister of Revenue was pushed into a corner, his official hat crooked.
“This… what is this?”
He pointed at the chests still being carried in, his voice trembling.
“Are they rocks?”
A vice general who had returned with the fleet, still carrying the smell of the sea, strode forward.
He said nothing unnecessary.
He drew his saber.
With a single brutal slash, he struck the lock of a nearby chest.
Crack.
It broke.
He kicked the lid open.
Crash!
The lid flew open.
A golden light exploded out without warning.
It made the nearest Li Si narrow his eyes.
Gold bricks.
Neatly stacked gold bricks, packed so tightly there was no gap at all.
Each one was engraved with a Qin seal script character: “Ying”.
The hall fell completely silent.
Gulp.
Someone swallowed hard.
The Minister of Revenue’s wooden tablet slipped from his hands and hit the ground with a clack.
It landed squarely on his foot.
He did not feel it.
Or rather—he had forgotten pain entirely.
His eyes were wide open, fixed on the chest as if he wanted to press his eyeballs against it.
“This… this is gold?”
The vice general ignored him.
He walked to the second chest.
Open lock. Kick lid.
Silver.
The third chest.
Jewels—red and green, flowing out like liquid, rolling across the floor.
The fourth. The fifth…
He opened ten chests in one breath.
The front half of the Qilin Hall was now illuminated brighter than midday by dazzling treasure light.
“This is only the first ship.”
The vice general sheathed his blade, voice loud and clear.
“There are ninety-nine more ships at the harbor.”
“His Highness said… this is the first phase of project funding.”
Hiss…
A synchronized intake of breath filled the hall.
Ying Zheng stood up.
He did not take the steps.
He directly jumped down from the jade steps in front of the throne.
Imperial dignity?
To hell with dignity.
He strode over to the pile of gold bricks and picked one up.
Heavy.
Very heavy.
Still carrying the salty scent of the sea.
“Hahaha.”
Ying Zheng laughed once.
“Hahahahaha!”
The laughter grew louder and louder, shaking dust from the beams above.
“Good! What a barbaric land!”
“What a Western Qin Governor!”
Ying Zheng threw the gold brick straight into the arms of the Minister of Revenue.
The Minister of Revenue barely managed to catch the gold brick and almost collapsed under its weight.
“You just said the treasury couldn’t hold it—that it was false reporting?”
The Minister of Revenue knelt on the ground, clutching the gold brick, trembling all over.
“This… this minister is guilty! I was blind!”
“I will expand the treasury immediately! Overnight!”
Li Si squeezed out from behind a pillar.
He bent down and picked up a ruby that had fallen on the ground, wiping it with his sleeve.
Top quality.
In Great Qin, this single gem could be exchanged for three years of taxes from a medium-sized county.
“Your Majesty,” Li Si said, holding the gem above his head.
“With this sum of money…”
“The second phase of the Zhengguo Canal can begin.”
“The Straight Road can be extended from Jiuyuan Commandery all the way to Yunyang.”
“The 300,000 border troops in the north can all receive new winter clothing, and every meal can include meat!”
Li Si’s voice trembled.
This was not money.
This was the fortune of Great Qin.
This was national fortune gained without exhausting Qin’s people—pure, additional national destiny out of nowhere.
The few officials who had been holding memorials, ready to accuse Ying Ziye of being “excessively brutal,” “reckless despite merit,” quietly withdrew their hands.
They exchanged glances.
And silently crushed the bamboo slips in their sleeves.
At a time like this—submit a memorial?
Anyone who did would become a traitor to Great Qin.
Who would go against money?
Ying Zheng swept his gaze across the court, looking at the stunned ministers.
“Issue the order!”
“A general amnesty across the realm!”
“Reward the army!”
“Tell the Ninth Prince—do whatever he wants over there!”
“If the sky falls, I will hold it up!”
Night
Western Xianyang City.
An inconspicuous residence, dimly lit.
There was no cheer from the palace here.
Only suffocating silence.
Several figures sat around a table.
No wine—only cups of cold tea.
“Have you heard the news from the palace?”
The speaker was an old man in Confucian robes, a disciple of Kong Fu and an old friend of Chunyu Yue.
“I have,” sneered a middle-aged man in fine clothing opposite him. He was a distant relative of Ying Teng. After Ying Teng was placed under house arrest, his branch had lost all income.
“The gold was piled like mountains.”
“The Emperor was so happy he looked like a child who got candy.”
The man slammed his cup onto the table.
“That is blood gold!”
The old man stroked his beard, eyes half-lowered.
“We cannot move the money.”
“We cannot erase the military achievements.”
“Wang Jian that old fox, and Meng Tian, are both supporting him over there.”
“A direct confrontation is suicide.”
The middle-aged man gritted his teeth.
“So we just watch that eight-year-old brat sit on top of us?”
“Today he can slaughter the Roman nobility—tomorrow he can come back and kill us!”
“Look at those laws he issued—are any of them meant to leave people a way out?”
The old man waved his hand calmly.
“Attacking the city is inferior; attacking the mind is superior.”
He took out a piece of silk from his robe and placed it on the table.
On it were a few words:
“Where did this money come from?”
“Killing tens of thousands to seize it.”
“How was this knowledge burned?”
“Burned through the destruction of humanity.”
The old man tapped the table with his finger.
“He is only eight.”
“At eight years old, a child should be playing with mud and memorizing books.”
“Not commanding massacres, melting gold, and destroying nations from thousands of miles away.”
The middle-aged man’s eyes lit up slightly.
“You mean…”
“Demon.”
The old man uttered the word.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
“Which legitimate royal child can achieve this?”
“Back then, Bai Qi buried Zhao soldiers alive—but that was for war.”
“But the Ninth Prince… is doing it to erase entire peoples.”
“This is not a prince. It is a monster in human skin—a calamity sent from the heavens.”
The old man stood up and walked to the window, looking toward the brightly lit imperial palace.
“Spread the message.”
“Say the Ninth Prince was possessed by an evil spirit in the west.”
“Say the gold he brought back is cursed by vengeful souls—anyone who touches it will lose their lifespan.”
“And say…”
He turned back, his face hidden in shadow.
“He is building up private forces and hoarding immense wealth, refusing to return to court.”
“That he intends to establish a new dynasty in the west.”
The middle-aged man inhaled sharply.
This move… was vicious.
It kills without blood.
In an imperial family, what is most feared is never brutality.
But a son richer than the father—and commanding more troops than the father.
“Understood.”
He stood up and brought the silk strip to the candle flame.
The fire flared.
Instantly devouring the words.
Ashes fell onto the table—like the black rumor that was about to spread.
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