Chapter 3: Death Advice

When Li Zaifang was running back and forth to deliver the imperial orders and the gift of pills, Mu Qi remained completely unaware. He slept until nine in the morning, then lazily donned a long robe and came out for breakfast, which, as usual, consisted of steaming hot soy milk with wontons, tofu pudding, and fragrant, delicious steamed buns. 

Halfway through his meal, he ordered the housekeeper to bring in a storyteller to serve him, so he could listen to the latest gossip from the capital while eating.

Although the system and the websites were unscrupulous, the benefits outlined in the contract still went uncompromised. The body Mu Qi was inhabiting belonged to the only son of the prince of Mu’s third generation, the pinnacle of wealth and honor in the Beijing. Moreover, the original parents of this body had passed away several years ago due to illness, going to Jinling to guard the tomb of the great ancestor, which alleviated any worries Mu Qi had since his arrival in this world.

As long as there was no risk of exposing any flaws, why not relax and live however he liked?

During the later years of the dynasty, regulations had loosened significantly. Although Mu Qi held several official positions, as long as the emperor and the pavilion did not summon him, there was essentially no official work to be done. 

After finishing breakfast and hearing the gossip, Mu Qi lazily left the house at ten o’clock. 

Instead of going straight to the government office, he strolled through a few houses he had bought, visiting a few of the invited scholars from the Mu family mansion.

Although he had decided to completely neglect his duties after falling out with the system, there were still certain matters Mu Qi did not dare to neglect. After arriving in this world, he managed to secure a position as a scholar in the Wenyuan Pavilion. He then bribed the guards with a large sum of money to gain access to the grand “Great Cannon” revised by Taizong.

The “Great Cannon” was an enormous work, covering all aspects of the world, and it was likely the most important document in existence. 

Even as the heir to the prince of Mu, with all his wealth, he could not borrow the entire collection. Mu Qi had no choice but to resort to an approach similar to the way ants move their nests. 

He made an agreement with the bookkeeper to borrow only eighty volumes at a time, which he would take out of the Hall and have transcribed day and night by over a hundred scholars and disciples he had invited to his household. Once the transcriptions were completed, he would return the original and borrow a new set of volumes.

Mu Qi estimated that, with such manpower and constant effort, he could copy two full sets of the “Great Cannon” before the old wall lamps in the dragon carriage for the honored guests were extinguished. Afterward, as long as he could seal the copies carefully and hide them underground, it would greatly reduce the risk of destruction in the event of war.

In this way, before the system would eventually eject him from this world for his neglect, he could leave behind a treasure map, perhaps even becoming the enigmatic figure who would perplex future generations with his riddles.

This was a matter a thousand times more important than accompanying the old wall lamp for a midnight ritual, and Mu Qi dared not take it lightly. 

However, as an outsider, he found it difficult to handle such a technical task as organizing the “Great Cannon.” Therefore, he had been thinking about it for a while, hoping to find a reliable scholar to assist him.

However, the circles of the aristocracy and the civil officials were completely disconnected, so for now, it remained nothing more than a distant thought.

After finishing the comforting message from the copyist, Mu Qi and his group went to the military department for the morning roll call, casually browsing through the recent government documents. 

According to the system, this was called being “well-informed and prepared,” but Mu Qi scoffed at it—obviously, no matter how much intelligence you gather, it’s useless when you’re dealing with a power-hungry, lazy old wall lamp who only wants to preserve his own power.

However, when Mu Qi opened the system’s message records, he heard a long-lost prompt tone. 

This was a rare warning that usually only appeared when the host was in imminent danger, something Mu Qi had hardly ever encountered before.

Frowning, Mu Qi clicked on the message. The alert was brief:

“The King Mu mansion is under close surveillance by the imperial guards. Please be mindful of your privacy.”

Mu Qi was slightly surprised—of course, there were spies from the imperial guards throughout the imperial city, but between the emperor and his ministers, there was a certain level of decorum. 

Unless it was a critical moment, the emperor shouldn’t be sending so many secret agents to monitor a noble family like the Mu family. Unless…

A flash of realization crossed Mu Qi’s mind, and he became extremely excited:

“The old wall lamp (emperor) is about to make a move on me!”

That’s right, unless the relationship with the prince’s family was already at a breaking point, why would the emperor violate the centuries-old rule?

Excitement surged in Mu Qi’s heart, and he could barely contain his laughter—after all this time of pretending to be useless, he had finally waited for this day!

This was something Mu Qi had learned from a few older predecessors who had been tricked by online stories. According to them, the difficulty of turning the tide and saving the world was too great for ordinary people to expect; however, the requirement of “leaving a name in history” was achievable—after all, the ancients valued “dying for the sake of remonstration.”

Writing a famous memorial, one that could move the people, would surely secure a place in history!

Of course, later versions of the system had patched the bug, preventing time travelers from provoking the emperor, but now? Now, the emperor was the one who was about to go mad and create chaos!

Mu Qi, full of excitement, didn’t even care why the emperor had suddenly lost his mind. He rushed out of the military department, sprinting toward the Duke’s mansion, shouting for his personal servant, Fa Cai, to buy white cloth and red paint and send them to the mansion immediately.

Fa Cai stood dumbfounded, watching his master disappear in the distance, running faster than a wild dog. The soldiers at the military department tried to stop him but couldn’t.

Mu Qi had already planned it out—if anything was amiss when he returned to the mansion, he would immediately break free from the imperial guards’s surveillance and take to the streets, with white cloth wrapped around his head and mourning attire, writing the word “Injustice” in big red characters.

 He would march to a bustling area of the capital, beating his chest and shouting slogans, desperately remonstrating, ensuring that the entire city would remember him. This might even get him into the Biographies.

The Mu family had founded the empire, their ancestors having supported the founding emperor in his youth and later assisted the second emperor in the Southern campaign. They were firmly established in the court as pillars of the state. A family of such prestigious lineage, if they were to publicly mourn in the capital and fiercely remonstrate, it would surely be an earth-shattering political event.

Sweat poured from his body at the thought of the uproar his actions would cause. old wall lamp, you’re in for a surprise!

Just imagining the waves this would create made Mu Qi tremble with excitement. All the frustration from years of enduring the emperor’s reign seemed to burst out at once.

 During the decades of the old wall lamp’s rule, novels had reached their peak, with works like Plum in a Bottle and Three Words pushing the boundaries of storytelling, showing the intricacies of human nature. In those days, if an author didn’t create shocking works, they were seen as beneath contempt!

Wu Chengen! Feng Menglong! Lanling smiled! The task of leaving a name in history, or perhaps in unofficial history, is now entrusted to you!

The official history may not be enough, but unofficial history will be wild enough. Today, old wall lamp, you’re about to experience the sharp pen of a writer!

After all, novelists of this era were bold enough to invent stories even about the founding emperor. In a few decades, when people have forgotten, they’ll make up wild tales about this old Taoist! The worst-case scenario is that they’ll use a pseudonym, following the example of “The Han Emperor cherished his beauty, causing the downfall of the nation” and other such allusions.

Of course, before sacrificing himself, Mu Qi had to shout a few stirring slogans to make the event more dramatic, inspiring the creativity of the writers. He opened the system’s historical records and urgently searched for the “Memorial for Public Security.”

“The people of the world have long since ceased to value His Majesty!”—does this sound familiar, old wall lamp?

Sorry, Mr. Gangfeng, you’re a literary genius. Feel free to compose another one when you’re done.

Since the emperor didn’t need to summon his ministers today, he didn’t have to pretend to be anything. Wearing the grim face of someone who had just confiscated several million in salt taxes, he summoned Li Zaifang after the imperial edict had been delivered.

“Have the imperial guards been dispatched?”

“Yes.” Li Zaifang didn’t dare look up. “Several princes, cabinet ministers, and scholars’ households have increased their surveillance. The spies report that nothing unusual has happened today. 

The only odd thing is that the heir to the Mu family suddenly ran out of the military department and has been running around the streets. The reason is unclear.”

The emperor grunted in response:

“That person has always been strange. Ignore him.”

Even the emperor called him strange—Mu Qi’s reputation among the people was certainly not good.

Li Zaifang nodded silently, not daring to speak further.

The emperor then asked, “What about the gold pills I gave as rewards?”

“Several ministers have asked about the imperial edict and thanked you for the gift,” Li Zaifang said cautiously. “Only Yan Ge Lao repeatedly bowed and ate two gold pills on the spot, causing a lot of nosebleeds.”

The emperor’s lips twitched. To be honest, as someone who had been in the alchemy field for many years, he had never seen anyone consume gold pills like that.

However, for someone to suffer nosebleeds immediately after taking them? Yan Fenyi’s constitution was quite sensitive—this might be worth investigating.

As a seasoned expert in medicinal pills, the emperor knew about their side effects. But with the stir caused by the demonic books, even these once-ordinary side effects had become glaringly conspicuous.

The emperor’s gaze flickered as he made his decision:

“Yan Fenyi is still loyal. Though I cannot reward him openly, give him something in secret.”

Li Zaifang bowed low. “As Your Majesty commands.”

“Yan Fenyi is getting old, and it’s inconvenient for him to travel back and forth. Conversations between monarch and minister are also difficult,” the emperor said magnanimously. “Grant him a silver badge. 

After taking his medicine, he may rest in the chamber outside the Qingliang Hall instead of going home. This will also allow me to inspect him nearby—and conveniently discuss state affairs with a key minister.”

The privilege to serve near Qingliang Hall and discuss matters with the emperor at any time was an honor previously reserved for the Grand Secretary. Li Zaifang hastily kneeled to thank the emperor on Yan Fenyi’s behalf, pointedly ignoring the final remark.

With a flick of his sleeve, the emperor gracefully rose from his meditation cushion. He initially planned to draft an imperial edict for Li Zaifang to summon a prominent Taoist priest in the capital to perform rituals in the sealed chamber of Qingliang Hall to banish the cursed book. 

However, he hesitated—after all, as Feixuan Zhenjun, he had devoted over a decade to cultivating the Taoism and had encountered countless virtuous practitioners. Yet, despite the endless procession of so-called true men and adepts, with their talismans and elaborate rites, none had ever produced anything as extraordinary as this bewitched book.

Indeed, while this phenomenon greatly tested one’s nerves, it was undeniably a true marvel—far beyond the petty tricks and deceitful acts he’d witnessed over the years. With Zhenjun’s unparalleled intellect, he could easily discern the difference.

If he recklessly dismissed such a miracle, it might never happen again. Such wonders could not be summoned at will, and the chance to witness true divine power might be lost forever…

A lifelong devotee of the Taoism, Feixuan Zhenjun, wavered.

After some hesitation, he finally issued his decree: “Without my explicit command, no one is permitted to enter or leave the quiet chamber. Cleaning, serving tea—everything is forbidden. Understand?”

Li Zaifang found this order rather baffled, but he bowed respectfully and obediently withdrew.