DLERB -Chapter 72 Movable Type Printing! Your Bamboo Slips Are Worthless!

Ying Ziye’s childish voice echoed through the great hall.

As soon as his words fell—

Thud!
Thud!

Heavy footsteps came from outside the hall.

Two more Imperial Guards in brocade uniforms entered.

This time, what they were carrying was far heavier than the previous box of paper.

It was a much larger crate, covered with a sheet of black cloth.

Bang!

The crate was slammed down in the center of the hall, raising a cloud of dust.

Everyone’s eyes were fixed tightly on the black cloth.

An inexplicable unease tightened Kong Fu’s heart.

He had a bad feeling.

Ying Ziye trotted over to the crate.

With a wave of his small hand—

“Pull it off!”

Whoosh—

The black cloth was ripped away.

No white light.

No fragrance.

What appeared before everyone’s eyes was a box full of… pitch-black metal lumps?

No, not metal.

They were small square blocks, as if made from fired clay.

On each one were densely carved, reversed Qin characters.

“What… what is this?”

“A pile of clay blocks?”

“Another trick!”

The Confucian scholars who had just been shaken by paper regained a bit of confidence.

Kong Fu even sneered.

“Ninth Prince, is this your divine artifact?”

“A pile of broken mud?”

Ying Ziye didn’t even look at him.

He waved his small hand again.

“Set it up!”

The Imperial Guards moved swiftly.

They took out a wooden frame and a metal plate.

Then they began rapidly selecting pieces from the “mud blocks.”

Their fingers moved so fast it looked like they were flying.

One by one, the blocks were placed precisely into the wooden frame, aligned perfectly.

Click.
Click.
Click.

The crisp sounds echoed rhythmically through the hall.

Soon, a full page layout was completed.

“Ink!”

Another guard stepped forward, dipped a brush into ink, and evenly coated the surface.

A rich ink fragrance instantly filled the air.

“Paper!”

Ying Ziye pulled another sheet from the stack of white paper nearby.

It floated lightly onto the type.

“Press!”

A wooden board was placed on top, and both hands pressed down evenly across the surface.

The entire process flowed like water.

Not a single wasted movement.

It carried a terrifying sense of efficiency.

When it was done,

Ying Ziye walked to the frame, pinched a corner of the paper, and lifted his head.

He gave Kong Fu—whose face was now dark as iron—a bright, innocent smile.

Then—

He lifted it.

A sheet of neatly printed Qin script appeared before everyone.

The ink was deep black and shining.

The characters were so perfectly aligned it looked as if they had been measured with a ruler.

The title read clearly:

“Qin Law · Theft Section”

“This…”

“It… it’s printed?”

“How is that possible! So clear! Even neater than handwriting!”

The hall erupted in shock.

Before they could even react—

“Continue!”

“Understood!”

Ink, paper, press, lift.

Ink, paper, press, lift!

The sequence repeated endlessly.

Sheet after sheet of Qin law documents was rapidly produced and casually thrown aside.

The speed was blinding.

At first, some officials tried to count mentally.

One sheet.

Two sheets.

Ten sheets.

Twenty!

Soon, they lost count entirely.

Because the pile of white paper had already become a small mountain.

After the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, the guards stopped.

Ying Ziye walked over and picked up the thick stack—at least fifty copies of the Qin Laws.

He stood on tiptoe, a little strained.

Then he did something no one expected.

He flung the entire stack into the air.

Whoosh—rustle rustle rustle—

The white sheets drifted down like winter snow, filling the entire Qilin Hall.

“Come, come!”

Ying Ziye clapped his hands, smiling like a child who had just gotten a new toy.

“One copy each!”

“Take it!”

“Use it to pad your tables or even as toilet paper, whatever you like!”

Toilet paper…

Use Qin law documents… as toilet paper?

This was madness!

And yet, looking at the scattered laws across the hall, no one thought he was joking anymore.

A figure suddenly rushed out of the ranks like a madman.

It was Li Si!

He didn’t even notice that his official hat had gone crooked.

Li Si threw himself to the ground and snatched up a sheet of falling paper like it was a priceless treasure.

He stared at the clearly written, perfectly arranged characters.

His hands began to tremble violently.

His lips quivered as he muttered to himself.

“Fast… too fast…”

He suddenly looked up, his eyes bloodshot, staring fixedly at Ying Ziye.

“Ninth Prince! Just now… how long did it take?!”

Ying Ziye counted on his fingers.

“About… the time it takes to drink a cup of tea?”

Li Si sucked in a sharp breath.

He turned around and roared at the entire court.

“A cup of tea! Fifty copies printed!”

“Do you know what that means?!”

He pointed at the paper on the ground.

“Each sheet contains at least five hundred characters!”

“In the past, copying a single bamboo-slip text like this— even the most skilled scribe would need half a month without sleep!”

“Half a month for one copy!”

Li Si’s voice carried a hint of tears.

“And now!”

“Half a day! No! One hour! One hour can produce thousands of copies!”

“Ten thousand copies!”

“What about cost? Bamboo slips are worth their weight in gold! This paper, this ink together—less than one percent of bamboo slips!”

Li Si’s words struck like heavy hammers into everyone’s hearts.

Especially the Confucian scholars.

Their faces had turned as white as the paper on the ground.

Ying Ziye walked cheerfully up to Kong Fu.

He picked up a copy of the Qin Laws and handed it over.

Kong Fu did not take it.

Ying Ziye didn’t care.

He looked up innocently.

“Old man.”

“You said all knowledge in the world is in your heads?”

“You said that without you, my father emperor cannot govern the nation?”

Kong Fu’s body began to tremble.

Ying Ziye grinned, revealing two rows of small white teeth.

“Tomorrow.”

“I’ll have the workshop print one hundred thousand copies of the Qin Laws.”

“And another hundred thousand copies of the Agricultural Manual.”

“And distribute them to every commoner in the world!”

“By then…”

He poked Kong Fu’s chest with his small finger.

“Forget you imperial scholars.”

“Even beggars on the street will know more law than you! More farming knowledge than you!”

“Let’s see then…”

“What else you useless people can do—besides hugging a few broken bamboo slips and crying!”

Clatter—

A crisp sound rang out.

The bundle of bamboo slips Kong Fu had been clutching like his life’s worth slipped from his powerless hands.

It crashed heavily to the ground.

The leather cord snapped.

The bamboo strips scattered everywhere.

Just like his pride—shattered.

Thud.

Kong Fu’s knees gave way and he collapsed to the ground.

Behind him, waves of Confucian scholars slumped down one after another, as if all their bones had been pulled out.

Their beliefs…

The foundation they had lived on…

At this moment—were crushed into dust by the falling snow of white paper.

“Hahaha…”

“Hahahahahahaha!!”

On the dragon throne, Ying Zheng suddenly stood up.

He let out the most unrestrained, thunderous laughter since regaining his youth!

The sound shook the entire hall.

“Good!”

“What a divine treasure!”

He strode down the steps, sweeping his gaze across the ashen-faced Confucian scholars below.

“Pass my decree!”

Ying Zheng’s voice rang like a bell!

“From today onward, establish the ‘Great Qin Paper Bureau’ and the ‘Great Qin Printing Bureau’!”

He turned and looked at the trembling Li Si.

“Entrust everything to Chancellor Li Si!”

“I give you three months!”

“Within three months, I want paper in Xianyang to be as cheap as dirt!”

Li Si trembled all over.

He dropped to his knees and kowtowed heavily.

“I, Li Si, accept the decree!”

“I thank Your Majesty for your heavenly grace! I thank the Ninth Prince for his world-changing gift!”

He knew it.

From this day onward, his name would be forever recorded in history alongside these two divine inventions!

At the hall entrance, Ying Teng, just revived and barely breathing, witnessed this earth-shattering reversal.

He looked at the scattered white papers.

At Kong Fu, utterly broken.

At Ying Ziye and Li Si, full of ambition and brilliance.

He understood.

The world he had tried to defend…was finished.

Completely finished.

“Ugh…”

A strange sound escaped his throat, and his eyes rolled back.

This time, he truly passed out.

Inside the Qilin Hall, the storm seemed to finally settle.

Ying Zheng walked back into the hall, his wild excitement slowly fading.

The atmosphere dropped instantly from frenzy to icy silence.

He bent down.

From the scattered bamboo slips on the ground, he picked up one piece.

It was part of Fusu’s blood letter, torn apart by Ying Ziye.

The blood writing had already dried.

Ying Zheng gently traced his finger over the character “execute.”

He lifted his head and looked at Ying Ziye.

In those once-youthful eyes, there was no warmth at all.

“Ziye.”

His voice was calm—eerily calm.

“How should I reply…”

“To this letter from your elder brother?”