HNYWEF -Chapter 208 Endless Trouble

Zhenguan 5th Year, 24th Day of the 8th Month. Morning Court.

In the Taiji Hall, all officials stood in solemn silence.

The morning autumn light poured in through the palace doors, landing on the crimson pillars and making them gleam.

The matters that needed discussion had already been addressed. The Ministry of Revenue reported the estimated autumn grain yield. The Ministry of Works reported the completion of several water conservancy projects. The Ministry of War reported calm conditions at the border.

Emperor Taizong of Tang nodded at each report in turn—approving what should be approved, rejecting what should be rejected.

Then he picked up a book from the imperial desk.

It wasn’t a memorial or an edict—it was a book. Not thick, without any title on the cover, its edges uneven as if it had been bound by hand.

He raised it so the officials below could see clearly.

“Minister of War.”

Li Jing stepped out from the ranks. His pace was neither fast nor slow—every step steady and composed. He reached the center of the hall, stopped, and bowed.

“This minister is here.”

Li Shimin handed the book over.

A eunuch received it and carried it down, presenting it to Li Jing.

“This is a book I recently obtained,” Li Shimin said. His voice was not loud, but the hall was silent, so every word rang clearly. “It was written by the Marquis of Jiuyuan County. Its content involves identifying water sources, gathering herbs, recognizing paths, observing the sky, making fire, setting up shelters, and avoiding beasts—methods for wilderness survival. I have read it. It is useful.”

Li Jing opened the first page. His gaze swept across the dense small characters, the diagrams of medicinal plants, and the rough directional sketches.

His brows moved slightly—but he said nothing.

Li Shimin continued, “The Ministry of War is to take it and arrange for soldiers to study it. Copy it, distribute it, and ensure that border troops fully master its contents.”

The hall fell silent for a brief moment.

Then a voice rang out from the ranks.

“Your Majesty.”

Li Shimin’s gaze shifted.

A court official in blue robes stepped out, walked to the center of the hall, and knelt.

“This minister, Censorate Inspector Xu Jingzong, has something to report.”

The hall went silent again.

Xu Jingzong was not an unfamiliar name in the Censorate recently.

He had impeached several local officials and accused two nobles. Though those cases had ended in “insufficient evidence,” his frequent accusations had made his name known.

Now he knelt in the center of the hall and spoke clearly.

“Your Majesty, I believe this book should not be implemented in the military.”

Li Shimin looked at him without speaking.

Xu Jingzong continued, “The Marquis of Jiuyuan, Zhou Xiong, is a blacksmith by origin and has never served in the military. How can what he writes be used for warfare? Military affairs concern the safety of the state—how can we lightly trust the armchair theories of a blacksmith? I humbly request Your Majesty to investigate carefully and not allow unverified methods to enter the army.”

He finished speaking and remained kneeling, waiting.

The atmosphere in the hall changed. Not the kind of sharp tension—but the kind that said, “here we go again.”

Some officials sighed inwardly. Some secretly glanced at Cheng Yaojin. Others lowered their heads and pretended to study their jade tablets.

Cheng Yaojin had already opened his mouth. He stepped forward, ready to speak—

“General Cheng, wait.”

A voice interrupted him. Not loud, but steady.

Cheng Yaojin’s words stuck in his throat. He turned his head.

It was Li Jing.

Li Jing had stepped out from the ranks—not all the way into the center, but just two steps forward, standing at the front of the formation, facing Xu Jingzong.

He still held the book in his hand.

Looking at Xu Jingzong, he spoke. His tone was neither high nor low, unhurried, like a lecturer beginning a lesson.

“Censor Xu says this book cannot be used. May I ask—have you even read it?”

Xu Jingzong froze for a moment.

Li Jing didn’t wait for his reply.

He flipped open the book in his hands, turned to a certain page, and read aloud.

“‘Finding water. When searching for water, first observe the terrain. Low-lying areas, places with lush vegetation, and locations where birds and animals gather—these all indicate a water source. Also, during dry seasons, one can look at valley floors, rock crevices, and beneath dried riverbeds. Dig three chi into the ground, and seepage water is often found.’”

After finishing, he raised his head and looked at Xu Jingzong.

“This minister has served in the military for decades, traveled across mountains and rivers, and experienced times of water and food shortages. These methods—I have used them. They are not empty theory. They are life-saving knowledge.”

He flipped forward a few more pages and continued reading.

“‘Harvesting medicinal herbs. Cogongrass root grows in fields, stops bleeding and reduces swelling. Dandelion grows by roadsides and wastelands, clears heat and detoxifies. Purslane grows along vegetable beds and field edges, treats dysentery and diarrhea.’”

He closed the book and looked at Xu Jingzong again.

“When soldiers march in the field, injuries and illnesses do not always have military physicians nearby. These wild herbs are everywhere. If you recognize them, they can save lives. If you don’t, they are just weeds.”

Xu Jingzong knelt there, opening his mouth slightly, then closing it again.

Li Jing looked at him. His tone remained steady—not loud, not soft—but every word landed like a nail driven into the ground.

“This minister has only flipped a few pages and already sees that this book aligns with military experience. It is certainly not fabricated. How many pages has Imperial Censor Xu read?”

Sweat began to form on Xu Jingzong’s forehead.

Li Jing didn’t wait for an answer and continued. This time his voice rose slightly.

“What is the background of the Marquis of Jiuyuan County, and what does it have to do with what he wrote? If what he wrote makes sense, then it makes sense. If it doesn’t, then it doesn’t. Yet Imperial Censor Xu did not read the content, did not verify the methods, and merely judged him as ‘a blacksmith by origin’—this is truly unwise.”

He paused.

“Furthermore, the Marquis of Jiuyuan County once served as a general in the Wagang stronghold. Where does this claim of him being a blacksmith even come from?”

The hall fell completely silent. So silent that even the wind passing through the palace doors could be heard.

Xu Jingzong knelt there, his face shifting from pale to red, then from red to purple.

He wanted to speak. His mouth opened—but Li Jing’s words were still lodged in his throat, blocking everything.

On the throne, Li Shimin watched the scene.

His gaze moved away from Xu Jingzong and swept across the hall, finally landing on someone.

Zhang Liang stood in the Censorate’s ranks, head lowered, eyes fixed on his tablet.

The moment Li Shimin’s gaze fell upon him, his face began to drain of color—not the pale of sun exposure, but the kind of whiteness as if something was being pulled out from within.

Li Shimin looked at him, then spoke. His voice was not loud, but every word was unmistakably clear.

“Zhang Liang.”

Zhang Liang trembled.

He stepped out from the ranks quickly—so quickly that he nearly tripped over his robe hem at the center of the hall. He steadied himself and knelt.

“Your servant is here.”

Li Shimin looked at him. He did not scold, did not shout—just looked.

“Your Censorate,” his voice was calm, but every word felt like a stone dropped from above, “still hasn’t changed its habits?”

Zhang Liang knelt there, forehead pressed against the palace floor, not daring to lift his head.

The hall remained silent.

Cheng Yaojin stood in the ranks, his mouth still slightly open.

He glanced at Li Jing, then at Li Shimin, then at the kneeling Xu Jingzong and Zhang Liang. He swallowed the words he had not managed to say.

The corner of his mouth twitched—not a smile, but the satisfaction of “I don’t even need to act.”

Beside him, Qin Qiong showed no expression at all. But his eyes moved from Li Jing to Xu Jingzong, then to Zhang Liang, and finally back to his own tablet.

The court officials stood in their positions—some lowering their heads, some staring forward, and some quietly exchanging glances.