“What?!”
For the first time, confusion appeared on Ying Zheng’s stern and majestic face.
Five thousand jin per mu?
He thought perhaps years of reviewing bamboo slips had damaged his hearing.
He even suspected the messenger had gone mad while delivering military intelligence.
Kneeling on the ground, Zhao Gao was equally stunned.
A divine crop?
Five thousand jin per mu?
What kind of nonsense was this?
Ying Zheng stepped out of the dragon carriage in a single stride.
He snatched the bamboo tube wrapped in red silk directly from the messenger’s hands.
His fingers tightened so hard that his knuckles turned white.
He tore away the silk and pulled out the silk letter inside.
Those eyes that looked down upon the world fixed themselves firmly on the very first character.
The handwriting on the silk belonged to Li Si.
Ying Zheng recognized it immediately.
Every stroke carried Li Si’s characteristic reverence and trembling caution.
“Your servant Li Si risks death to submit this memorial once more to Your Majesty.”
“When the Ninth Young Master blasted Yan Le to death within Qilin Hall and used the corpse to intimidate the officials, this servant initially believed him cruel and tyrannical.”
Ying Zheng’s breathing paused slightly.
“When the Young Master summoned three thousand Jinyiwei into the hall and forced this servant to kneel and draft edicts, speaking openly of a blood purge, this servant believed him mad.”
Ying Zheng’s brows twisted tightly together.
“When the Young Master used the Confucian scholar Chunyu Yue as bait, hanging him upon the city gate for half a month to lure assassins from the six states into a trap, this servant believed him vicious and ruthless.”
By this point, Ying Zheng’s expression had already darkened to the point it seemed water could drip from it.
Behind him, Zhao Gao secretly glanced upward. Seeing the emperor’s face, he felt a surge of delight.
Killing officials!
Forcing the court!
Humiliating Confucian scholars!
Every single offense was enough to warrant death!
Yet the contents of the letter continued.
“However, everything the Young Master has done… was all for one thing.”
“The Young Master calls it the divine crop, ‘potato.’”
“This object appears ordinary and grows beneath the soil.”
“When this servant first saw it, I too believed it to be nothing more than a common root.”
“Yet the Young Master opened three hundred mu of experimental fields outside Xianyang and distributed them among the people.”
“And declared that this crop could yield… five thousand jin per mu!”
Ying Zheng’s pupils suddenly widened.
The hand holding the silk letter began trembling uncontrollably.
He continued reading.
“This servant, together with Agriculture Official Li Ji and countless old farmers of Xianyang, personally witnessed this crop.”
“Steamed, it is fragrant, soft, and delicious.”
“Roasted, it is crisp outside and tender within.”
“A small piece alone can satisfy hunger for half a day.”
“Most importantly, it does not choose the quality of land. Even barren soil can grow it!”
“Agriculture Official Li Ji smashed his forehead against the ground, weeping bitterly, declaring that if this crop were promoted throughout the empire, Great Qin would never again see starving corpses!”
“The people outside the city guard it day and night, revering it as if it were divine!”
“The hearts of the people now wholly belong to the Young Master!”
“This servant dares to add one final sentence.”
“The Young Master kills to establish authority.”
“The Young Master acts domineeringly in order to spread the divine crop and sweep away all obstacles.”
“The Young Master uses thunderous methods to carry out the heart of a Bodhisattva!”
“This servant, Li Si, admits in shame that he is inferior!”
“Great Qin is fortunate!”
“Your Majesty is fortunate!”
At the very end of the silk letter were dozens of crooked signatures marked with bright red fingerprints.
They were the names of the first old farmers outside Xianyang to receive the divine crop.
Ying Zheng finished reading.
He stood there motionless, as though turned to stone.
Around the dragon carriage, tens of thousands of soldiers remained utterly silent.
At that moment, time itself seemed frozen.
Zhao Gao secretly watched Ying Zheng’s back, his heart rising and falling uneasily.
He could not understand.
Was this good news… or bad news?
Just as his anxiety reached its peak—
“Hah…”
A faint, suppressed laugh escaped from Ying Zheng’s throat.
“Haha…”
The laughter grew louder.
“HAHAHAHAHAHA!”
Ying Zheng suddenly raised his head and burst into wild laughter toward the heavens!
That laughter was filled with boundless exhilaration and excitement!
The sound shook the clouds above the entire convoy as if they themselves were rolling and churning!
He clutched the silk letter tightly against his chest, as though grasping the very future of the empire!
“Bang!”
Turning back toward the dragon carriage too quickly, he violently knocked over the desk.
Bamboo slips, brushes, ink, and ginseng soup scattered across the floor.
He paid it no mind at all.
Standing in the dragon carriage with his hands on his hips, Ying Zheng laughed out loud. On his stern face, faint traces of tears even flickered.
“Good!”
“Good!!”
“Excellent, my Qilin child!!!”
Each word of praise struck like a heavy hammer, pounding fiercely into Zhao Gao’s heart.
Zhao Gao collapsed to the ground, his face ashen.
It was over.
Everything was over.
All his previous slanders against Ying Ziye.
All his attempts to fan the flames and sow discord.
In front of the words “five thousand jin per mu,” they had become nothing but a ridiculous joke.
Not only had he failed to make the Emperor despise that little bastard—
He had instead personally elevated him to the heavens.
He had made the Emperor see a decisive, ruthless heir in possession of divine crops—someone capable of stabilizing the nation.
The perfect successor.
After Ying Zheng finished laughing, his entire body felt refreshed. All the exhaustion from the eastern tour seemed to vanish in an instant.
He bent down and picked up the edict he had previously ordered Zhao Gao to draft—one meant to reprimand Ying Ziye.
Right in front of Zhao Gao—
“Riiip—”
He tore it to pieces with his own hands.
Paper fragments fluttered down like snowflakes, landing on Zhao Gao’s pale face.
Ying Zheng looked down at him from above.
There was a hint of amusement and a bone-chilling coldness in his sharp gaze.
“Zhao Gao.”
Zhao Gao trembled all over, like a frog locked under the gaze of a poisonous snake.
“Y-Your servant… is here!”
Ying Zheng spoke slowly. His voice was calm—but it plunged Zhao Gao into an icy abyss.
“Is my son… better than you imagined?”
“This servant… deserves death! This servant was blind!!”
Zhao Gao slammed his head repeatedly against the ground in panic.
“Bang! Bang! Bang!”
His forehead quickly became a mangled, bloody mess.
Ying Zheng sat back down on the soft couch.
He did not care who Ying Ziye had killed.
A mere Yan Le—kill him if you wish.
He did not care what methods Ying Ziye used.
Forcing Li Si to kneel? So what? Even if the entire court were forced to kneel—if it could be controlled, that was ability.
What he cared about was only the result.
The court had been firmly controlled by an eight-year-old child.
The hearts of the people had been completely won over by a divine crop.
And that yield of five thousand jin per mu!
Five thousand jin!
Ying Zheng closed his eyes.
In his mind, he could already see Qin’s granaries stacked like mountains, and Qin’s iron cavalry with no more worries about supply.
Any one of these achievements alone would have been enough to satisfy him.
But all three had appeared together.
What he saw was the true foundation of an eternal Great Qin.
“Pass down my imperial decree!”
Ying Zheng suddenly opened his eyes, his voice filled with unquestionable authority.
“Change course! Cancel all scheduled routes!”
“Return to Xianyang at full speed!”
“I will see it with my own eyes! I will personally touch this divine crop with a yield of five thousand jin per mu!”
He then turned to the Black Ice Terrace commander standing outside the carriage.
“Another secret order!”
“From this moment onward, deploy all Black Ice Terrace agents in Xianyang. Protect the Ninth Prince at all costs!”
“If even a single hair on his head is harmed, I will bury every remaining Six Kingdom remnant in Xianyang with him!”
“Yes, Your Majesty!”
With the orders issued, the entire convoy’s atmosphere shifted instantly—from cold killing intent to a kind of feverish excitement.
Inside the dragon carriage were only Ying Zheng and Zhao Gao, still trembling on the ground.
Ying Zheng lifted a cup of tea and gently blew on it.
Then, as if casually, he asked: “I heard… the Yan Le killed by Ying Ziye was one of your men?”
Boom.
Zhao Gao’s mind went completely blank.
He felt as though all the blood in his body had been drained in an instant.
“Your Majesty! Please spare me!”
Tears and mucus streamed down his face as he scrambled to explain incoherently.
“It was this servant’s failure to judge people! This servant was blind! I am utterly loyal to Your Majesty—heaven and earth may witness it!”
Ying Zheng ignored him.
He simply lifted the carriage curtain, his gaze passing through mountains and rivers toward distant Xianyang.
He murmured softly—half to Zhao Gao, half to himself:
“This child…”
“Where did he learn such imperial strategies?”
“And where did he find these divine things?”
In Ying Zheng’s eyes, a trace of something even he himself did not fully recognize flickered—
Deep… apprehension.
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