Chapter 26: Determination

Although the orders were strange and unusual, for the past few days, Feixuan Zhenjun had been acting erratically, and his subordinates had grown accustomed to it. 

Li Zaifang still kneeled to receive the command, not daring to speak further. The Zhenjun stood up, pacing a few steps, then suddenly spoke:

“This book, with its strange and bizarre tales of gods and demons, is quite interesting… how did this Wu write it?”

Listening closely and noticing that His Majesty seemed to take an interest in this Wu Chengen’s novel, Li Zaifang did not dare to bring up any trivial, common talk. He quickly responded:

“Your Majesty is truly wise. According to a servant close to the Wu family, this book indeed has an extraordinary origin. Wu Chengen supposedly had a dream one day, where an old man with a white beard took him on a journey around the world, showing him rare and exotic sights, and instructed him to record them in a book to be passed down for future generations.”

Naturally, such talk of divine revelations, of teachings received in dreams, was mostly just a marketing gimmick invented by booksellers to sell books. 

The formula was always the same, and after reading two such novels of gods and demons, one would be quite familiar with the pattern. 

With the current prosperity of the publishing industry in Jiangnan, if one were to consider every single case in detail, it would be like the gods and immortals all coming out of their lairs every day to work overtime, and even they could never handle such a flood of divine books.

This kind of tale could hardly be hidden from even the common folk, let alone the sharp and perceptive Feixuan Zhenjun. Li Zaifang had intentionally conveyed this absurd story in hopes of making Feixuan Zhenjun laugh, so he could then explain things in detail.

But to his surprise, after this simple reply, the expression on Feixuan Zhenjun’s face suddenly changed!

After a moment of stunned silence, the Zhenjun slowly, slowly took a deep breath, gripping the book Journey to the West tightly in his sleeve.

“Did the Wu family servant really say that?”

Seeing that the Emperor’s voice had become somewhat strange, Li Zaifang dared not say another word:

“How could this servant dare deceive Your Majesty!”

There was a longer silence, and then Feixuan Zhenjun spoke again, his tone somewhat vague and disoriented.

“…I see. You may all leave now.”

Once the hall was empty, Feixuan Zhenjun could no longer suppress his excitement. He tightly pressed the Journey to the West against his chest, then, with a flick of his sleeve, floated like a moth through the vast hall. 

He landed before the tablets of the Three Pure Ones and his ancestors, bowing three times, each bow loud and firm.

The immortal sent a message, and dream-walking across the four seas! What a fantastical experience, the protagonist’s template? No wonder the heavenly book specifically mentions Journey to the West; it’s clearly a guide prepared for the Zhenjun!

Heaven! Ancestors! I’m finally going to make it!

After kneeling three times and bowing nine, the Zhenjun took out the precious, heavenly book of mystical divine texts from his chest and reverently placed it on the incense table.

To be honest, after decades of cultivation, he had finally glimpsed some of the divine and magical techniques, the teachings of immortals, in the heavenly book. The joy at that moment was indescribable. 

Had there not been servants around, the Zhenjun would have probably leapt straight into the sky, ordering the Imperial Guards and spies to investigate Wu Chengen and all the ancestors within a 500-mile radius!

However, at this critical moment, his decades of self-discipline and cultivation came into play. A surge of true energy pressed against his heart, forcefully suppressing the wild joy like a raging fire. As the excitement eased, reason reclaimed its ground. 

The Zhenjun quickly realized that he could not act rashly against Wu Chengen, nor could he interfere brutally with the creation of Journey to the West—if this work truly was guided by immortals, and with the attention of the heavenly book’s exiled immortals, any rash action might disrupt the grand strategy above.

Other matters aside, if Journey to the West involved some significant issue for the immortals, impacting critical KPIs in the immortal realm, how could he, the Feixuan Zhenjun, who would one day ascend to heaven, work with his future colleagues?

Colleagues must unite! The Zhenjun was magnanimous, reasonable, and humane. Of course, he could not let his own convenience obstruct the work of his future colleagues.

…Therefore, the crude and direct approach was utterly unacceptable. Until more information could be secretly gathered by the Imperial Guards, the only and greatest source of information was Journey to the West itself.

So, what was hidden in this book?

The Feixuan Zhenjun, with clean hands, carefully opened the table of contents and began reading word by word from the beginning.

Of course, this wasn’t really necessary. The Zhenjun, being highly knowledgeable and with an exceptional memory, had already read and largely remembered the plot of the novel. 

The essence of Journey to the West lay in the heavenly rebellion and the pilgrimage for scriptures, but these divine techniques and mystical battles weren’t his main focus—at least not at the moment. The Zhenjun was fixated on one question:

How did that monkey, Sun, become immortal?

He flipped through the first two chapters five times, committing each word to memory, and carefully analyzed the passage where Sun Monkey visited the Bodhi Patriarch. 

The novel frequently referenced alchemical and Taoist terminology, but to the Feixuan Zhenjun, who had spent decades in cultivation, they were little more than borrowed ideas with nothing extraordinary. 

Yet, some repeated imagery caught his attention—according to the first chapter, Sun Monkey, after deciding to seek immortality, first sailed across the sea to the Southern Continent to learn the way. 

After seven or eight years of fruitless searching, he crossed the ocean again and finally found the Bodhi Patriarch in the Western Bull Hezhou.

Why was the sea mentioned twice? Why did one have to cross the sea to find immortality?

Suddenly, the light of understanding flashed in the Zhenjun’s mind, and his heart pounded as if struck by a great revelation. He suddenly recalled that although the heavenly book was full of curses and resentment, criticizing everything from top to bottom, it had never once mentioned the policies resisting the Japanese pirates or reopening maritime trade!

Now it seemed that the selfish intentions were glaringly obvious. Why was the exiled immortal so lenient about overseas affairs? Because the path to immortality lay beyond the sea!

Ah, now I see! The Zhenjun understood!

In an instant, he grasped this insight, trembling with excitement, feeling as though decades of painstaking effort had finally paid off. 

The immortal had descended to convey to him the secret of immortality (of course, the mention of old lanterns and other trivial tests in the heavenly book could be dismissed as mere trials, unworthy of concern). Now—now everything was in place. He was just one ship away from immortality and ascension!

The Feixuan Zhenjun could hardly contain himself. He was about to grab his hammer and command his confidants to quickly prepare a ship to seek immortality across the sea. 

But, as an emperor who had sat on the throne for decades, he suddenly recalled a trivial detail:

Could the imperial navy even support his great quest for immortality?

Let’s not even talk about a grand fleet searching for immortality; could small merchant ships and cargo vessels even sail freely now, with smooth communication?

A fleet setting sail with treasures for the immortals… did he think pirates and sea bandits would just disappear?

Clearly, given the current situation, even if the emperor sent someone to search for traces of immortals abroad, they might be intercepted by pirates on the way, leaving the rewards to the idle barbarians.

No wonder the heavenly book held such a grudge against pirates and never criticized the policies against them. 

Upon realizing this, the Feixuan Zhenjun’s blood boiled, and he could hardly suppress his rage, feeling like fire was about to burst from all his orifices.

Dare to block my path to immortality? You will regret this!

My opportunity, my immortal path! This is no longer a matter of deceiving heaven; it is directly defying heaven!

A dragon has its reverse scales, and anyone who touches them will die. The Zhenjun’s expression shifted as he thought about the decades of painstaking cultivation and the fleeting opportunity for immortality. 

His mood changed several times before he finally made his final decision.

He picked up the golden mallet again and struck it heavily.

“Li Zaifang!”

With a loud clanging sound, the chief steward of the inner court hurried in, bowed, and prostrated on the ground, not daring to speak. However, he stole a glance upwards, his heart thudding—how come the emperor, who had been absent for a moment, now seemed to be in such a hurry?

Zhenjun coldly said, “I asked you to check the records of Emperor Taizong’s campaign against the Wokou pirates. Have you checked them?”

This question was completely unexpected. Li Zaifang paused before cautiously replying, “Replying to Your Majesty, the records of Emperor Taizong are too numerous. I instructed them to review them and submit a report for Your Majesty to examine. If it is urgent, I will assign more people to assist.”

Zhenjun remained silent for a moment, then snorted:

“After reading the records, how do you think the coastal defense during Emperor Taizong’s reign compares to now?”

Li Zaifang: ………

No matter how experienced and smooth the chief steward was, he couldn’t speak a word at this moment—how could he possibly compare the coastal defense of Taizong’s era with today? Didn’t the emperor know that himself?

No way, no way, no one can really think the current coastal defense is impressive, right?

Who gave the emperor the confidence to make such a comparison? Going to the moon and scraping the porcelain isn’t a good idea, Your Majesty!

When the gap between reality and expectations is this wide, even flattery and groveling come off as sarcasm. Li Zaifang thought long and hard and simply didn’t know how to present the facts tactfully, so he decided to remain silent, repeatedly bowing his head.

Fortunately, it seemed the Taoist priest didn’t want to trouble his confidants today. He snorted again:

“…Since that’s the case, how much silver will it take to improve the current coastal defense, acquire some suitable ships, and clean up the useless officials who are eating and drinking on the job?”

Li Zaifang’s heart shook. He vaguely remembered that when the emperor had ordered the review of Taizong’s records, he had also quietly asked a few knowledgeable eunuchs about the costs of the soldiers campaign and the voyages to the Western seas. 

After hearing the rough expenses, he immediately stopped speaking and delayed the matter until now. Now, with the issue of silver being raised again, it seemed impossible to gloss over.

He knew his master’s temperament too well. If he wasn’t careful in his response and accidentally triggered Zhenjun’s hidden taboo (“my money!”), he’d probably end up back guarding Taizong’s tomb.

Zhenjun sat upright, clearly observing the nervousness of his confidant. He certainly understood his subordinate’s concerns but paid no heed. 

To Zhenjun, the Wa kingdom’ massive silver mine was important, but if acquiring this unknown silver mine were to seriously affect his current enjoyment, it wasn’t worth it. Still, there was space for hesitation; however, when it came to seeking immortality—seeking immortality was a matter that left no room for negotiation!

The Taoist must achieve immortality! The Taoist must achieve immortality! Anyone who obstructs my path will be eliminated!

Seeing that he couldn’t delay any longer, Li Zaifang could only force himself to reply:

“Your Majesty, as things stand, it will take at least two to three million taels of silver each year…”

Mu Qi’s estimate was still too conservative. The military preparedness of the court had been neglected for so long; no amount of silver could make up for it.

To add two or three million taels every year would cost the Ministry of Revenue dearly; even if they tried, it was unlikely they could come up with that amount. Ultimately, it would have to come from the emperor’s little treasury, which was the part Li Zaifang dreaded the most.

As everyone knew, the emperor’s little treasury was a sensitive issue; Zhenjun, wanting to maintain his reputation as a wise and benevolent ruler, wouldn’t directly turn on his subordinates, but he would definitely play the “poor me” card, speaking of how “I only have eight sets of clothes for the whole year” and how “all nations are at fault, the fault lies with me,” using nonsensical riddles to confuse his subordinates before finding an opportunity to strike, sending the unfortunate one off to Hainan Island to feed the mosquitoes!

Li Zaifang had no intention of vacationing in Hainan, so his response was trembling with fear. 

But unexpectedly, after hearing such an outrageous number, Zhenjun didn’t show any sign of anger. Instead, after a moment of silence, he seemed to have made a decision:

“…Fine! If you don’t spend the capital, you won’t gain the opportunity. Go find some of your own trusted people and start sorting out the coastal defense accounts.”

After being defeated by Hai Gangfeng’s strike, Mu Qi dejectedly returned home, sitting at the desk, brooding. 

When the system popped up a dialogue window, his mood worsened even more—Liu Li had sent the chancellor’s draft plan for the northern expedition, humbly asking them to refer to historical materials from later periods and promising a signed copy of the chancellor’s document as a reward for each of them.

Having a mentor like the chancellor is so impressive, huh? Can I just ask for a signed document like it’s nothing, huh?

…Well, actually, it is impressive, and it made Mu Qi feel even more defeated.

This defeat wasn’t just jealousy but also tinged with a subtle sadness and an unspeakable sense of inferiority. 

With the development of productivity, in terms of material enjoyment and living conditions, Mu Qi probably had the best treatment among the three, even better than Zhao Fei at his peak. 

But in the end, people aren’t just shaped by material desires. The kind of happiness and satisfaction that comes from working with like-minded, talented people to change the world can’t be compared to mere eating, drinking, and playing.

To be able to live up to history, responsibilities, and one’s original aspirations—that is the greatest joy in life. Mu Qi asked himself, and he felt he couldn’t do any of that now, only silently enduring.

He sighed deeply and was about to close the window when he unintentionally glanced at the system’s reminder:

“Damn, how is the progress bar increasing again?”