Wuxia: Become the 100-Victory Sword King at the Beginning

The fierce winds of December were like ten thousand steel cones, striking the bronze bells on the eaves of the Hall of Supreme Harmony with a sound like tearing silk.

Shi Feiyang wore black boots inlaid with jade, and his twelve-symbol dragon robe fluttered in the wind.

Beneath the imperial steps, Sukhbaatar, clad in heavy black iron armor, led three thousand iron guards in formation according to the twelve earthly branches. This valiant general, who had fought valiantly on the battlefield and was now the commander of the Nine Gates, had deliberately organized his troops into twelve squads, each with two hundred and fifty men, subtly corresponding to the number of tassels on the emperor's crown.

He thought back to when he had looked down on "Hongli" before he went to quell the rebellion of the Dzungars, but now he was being highly valued by "Hongli". He was filled with emotion and secretly vowed to protect the new emperor.

As Shi Feiyang stepped onto the white marble steps, he heard the clanging of armor mixed with the soft clatter of mechanisms—each vanguard had a specially made bone-piercing nail hidden in the sleeve of their sticky pole.

"Respectfully request the new emperor to ascend the throne!" The Minister of Rites' announcement pierced the air. Shi Feiyang's gaze swept over the assembled officials below. The water stains on Hongzhou's official robes were still wet; this prince, known for his "absurdity," must have knelt outside the Imperial Clan Court all night.

Longkodo's former subordinate Akdun clenched his fist, veins bulging, but the moment he met Yue Zhongqi's gaze, he felt as if he had fallen into an ice cave—the old general's eyes flashed with a cold light, the same ruthlessness he displayed when he used his tiger-headed spear to decapitate a rebel on the Miao battlefield.

Wei Nianhua mingled among the officials of the Court of State Ceremonial, concealing his cicada-wing dagger deep within his wide sleeves; the blade was as thin as a cicada's wing yet incredibly sharp. Chen Feng waved a large black gold fan, on which the four characters "Upright and Honorable" were written in dark red, like blood—written with the heart's blood of Mongol princes.

Bai Zhenhua, disguised as the deputy commander of the Imperial Guard, had a gleaming, cold-looking saber at his waist, the Taotie pattern on the scabbard seemingly ready to devour anyone at any moment.

The moment the Imperial Seal was presented, Shi Feiyang's fingertips touched the slightly concave area at the bottom of the seal, which was the bloodline mark left by Emperor Kangxi.

In a daze, the words of Emperor Yongzheng before his death echoed in my ears: "The most terrifying thing in this world is not the blade, but the human heart."

He looked up at the plaque above the Hall of Supreme Harmony. The four characters "Upright and Bright" flickered in the wind and snow, just like the ever-changing hearts of people in the imperial court.

The tolling of the bells marking the completion of the coronation ceremony shook the snow off the eaves. Shi Feiyang came alone to the coffin of Emperor Yongzheng, where the nine dragons carrying the coffin still smelled of fresh lacquer.

Ice crystals appeared on his palm as he activated the Mingyu Skill "Ice Soul Cold Prison," with wisps of cold air seeping into the wood grain: "Father, you said that the emperor's benevolence is the poison of the country, but your son insists on turning this benevolence into a thorny rose."

Wei Nianhua appeared like a ghost and whispered in his ear, "Master, the Imperial Clan Court has been cleared out. Hongxi has confessed to thirty-four accomplices, including three Grand Secretaries of the Inner Cabinet."

Shi Feiyang's dragon hook trembled slightly, and the ghostly blue light on its body suddenly intensified: "Burn the list. Leave Hongxi a complete body and bury him with the rites of a Beizi. The rest... demote them to commoners and exile them to Ningguta."

“Master! Such a serious crime, why not…” Wei Nianhua asked in surprise.

As Shi Feiyang turned around, his dragon robe swept across the candlestick, causing the flame to flicker violently: "Killing thirty-four people is easy, but winning the hearts of the people is difficult. I want them to know that the new emperor's sword can not only slay enemies, but also protect his subjects."

The commander of the Sticky Rod Office gazed into the new emperor's deep, unfathomable eyes and suddenly sensed something more terrifying than the Miao region's Gu poison—a sharp edge that could see right through people's hearts. The snow fell heavier and heavier, and Sukhbaatar's cavalry crossed the white marble bridge in the imperial garden, the sound of their hooves startling countless crows.

The hand warmer Chen Feng handed over was engraved with the characters "Qianlong," and he said softly, "This reign title means 'the Way of Heaven prospers,' but it also subtly implies 'the emperor's absolute authority and his widespread benevolence.'" Shi Feiyang stroked the hand warmer, recalling the years he fought alongside others on the Miao battlefield, a meaningful smile playing on his lips. Suddenly, he also remembered the scene when Chen Feng tried to kill him when he first arrived at the shores of Taihu Lake.

However, as time passed, Chen Feng had become his trusted henchman.

Bai Zhen leaped down from the eaves, his black robes covered in snowflakes: "Seventeen secret passages were found in the inner palace, and three corpses were pulled from the well in Jingren Palace. They were Hongxi's assassins." Before he finished speaking, Mu Tie'a's patrol team had already escorted several suspicious-looking eunuchs through the corridor, the iron chains dragging on the blue bricks with a grating sound.

Shi Feiyang stood in front of the Qianqing Palace, gazing at the snow falling all around him.

In the distance, Yue Zhongqi's military flag fluttered in the wind and snow, the character "Yue" on it deeply stained with blood.

He gripped the dragon hook at his waist, the four characters "戒急用忍" (meaning "avoid haste and be patient") on the hook digging painfully into his palm.

At this moment, he finally understood that the so-called path of an emperor is to forge his own kingly way through blood and fire—it requires both ruthless methods and a compassionate heart, only in this way can he secure his position over this vast empire.

The Hall of Mental Cultivation at midnight was bathed in darkness, with only candlelight flickering on the Xuande incense burner, casting Shi Feiyang's shadow onto the coiled dragon pillars, resembling a lurking python. On the desk, the Yongzheng Emperor's handwritten "On Factions" was slightly curled at the edges, with traces of vermilion annotations remaining between the yellowed pages. On the newly opened "Essentials of Governance in the Zhenguan Era," next to the phrase "The ruler is the boat; the people are the water; water can carry a boat, but it can also capsize it," a line written in vermilion ink like blood read: "Water can carry a boat, but it can also boil porridge." Outside the window, the cold wind howled, and suddenly a clear, melodious whistle pierced the night sky.

Shi Feiyang stroked the dragon hook at his waist, the four characters "avoid haste and be patient" gleaming coldly in the candlelight—this jade hook, which had been tempered with Miao poison, was now slightly burning against his heart.

The signal for the change of guard at the Sticky Rod Office would sound every fifteen minutes, like the emperor's never-closing eyes, monitoring every inch of the Forbidden City.

Suddenly, the bronze bell buried under the blue bricks outside the hall rang softly, and the talismans on the roof tiles appeared and disappeared in the moonlight.

This is the "Dragon-Trapping Formation" set up by the Maoshan Taoist priests. It is said to be able to suppress the fortunes of all directions, but it also traps the ruler of this land within the nine-layered palace.

Shi Feiyang suddenly chuckled, the sound startling the crows perched on the beams. He finally understood that from the moment he stepped onto the imperial steps, he had become the biggest pawn in this game. "Master, this decree..." Wei Nianhua's voice came from the shadows, the cold glint of the parting hook reflecting on his tightly furrowed brows.

The imperial edict, bright yellow, was spread out on the table. The vermilion annotation, which read "Release Yunti and other members of the imperial clan and restore their titles," was not yet dry.

The commander of the Sticky Rod Office, his eyes gleaming, asked, "Master, these people once vied for the throne with you, why are they now..."

"Look," Shi Feiyang said, his hands behind his back, gazing towards the Imperial Clan Court. The twelve imperial symbols on his dragon robe fluttered in the wind. "The remnants of Hongxi's faction have just been eliminated, and the Eight Banners nobles are filled with unease. If I were to exterminate them now, I would be forcing them into a corner. We must take one down, and then strike another—"

He suddenly turned around, a cold glint flashing in his glassy eyes. "Back in Miao territory, when you and I surrounded and annihilated Yinli, wasn't it the same strategy of divide and conquer?"

Chen Feng strolled into the hall, brandishing a large, black gold fan. The original inscription on the fan, "Unification of the World," had been replaced by "A Balance of Lenient and Strict Measures, A Combination of Kindness and Power," the characters written in blood-red ink. "Brilliant! Suhebalu's iron cavalry guards the nine gates, Bai Zhen's eagle claws protect the inner court, and a few small favors can win people's hearts..." He paused, tapping his palm lightly with the fan ribs, "But how to cook this porridge still requires Your Majesty's guidance."

Shi Feiyang's fingertips traced the pages of "Zhenguan Zhengyao" (Essentials of Governance in the Zhenguan Era), and the candlelight suddenly flickered violently, making the dragon patterns throughout the hall appear ferocious and terrifying: "Father, how many people have you offended in your efforts to reform the bureaucracy? If I continue to be harsh, I will be following in his footsteps."

He grabbed the vermilion brush from the table and wrote the two characters "仁政" (benevolent governance) heavily in the blank space, the tip of the brush poking a hole in the Xuan paper. "But this benevolence must be wrapped in a steel knife!"

At this moment, Bai Zhen landed on the eaves like a night owl, his black robes still covered with unmelted snow: "Your Majesty, Mu Tie'a has sealed off all the secret passages of Jingren Palace, and the corpses of those assassins..."

"Feed the wolves." Shi Feiyang said without looking up. "And while you're at it, turn all the houses of Longkodo's old subordinates into soup kitchens."

A cold smile curled at the corner of his lips. "Let them know that I can both kill them and make them grateful."

As the morning light pierces through the clouds, the glazed tiles of the Hall of Supreme Harmony refract a rainbow of colors.

Shi Feiyang stood in front of the Qianqing Gate, watching Yue Zhongqi's military flag flutter in the morning sun and listening to Mu Tie'a's imperial guards shouting thunderous slogans.

He gripped the dragon hook at his waist, its cool jade texture pressed against his palm—this vast land must ultimately forge a new path through a combination of iron-fisted rule and benevolent governance.

"Your Majesty, it's time for breakfast," the little eunuch's timid voice rang out.

Looking at the venison porridge on the table, Shi Feiyang suddenly thought of the sour fish soup from Miao territory—its scalding hot and spicy taste was just like his tumultuous life.

As he scooped up the rice porridge with the silver spoon, the "Qianlong Tongbao" coin on the handle reflected his cold and stern face. In a daze, the image of Shi Feiyang, who once wielded his sword on the battlefield, had long since been buried in the imperial crown along with last night's snowstorm.

The snow has stopped, and the red walls and yellow tiles of the Forbidden City gleam in the sunlight.

Shi Feiyang unfolded the second imperial edict, the vermilion ink penetrating the paper.

He knew that the beginning of this prosperous era was already filled with intrigue and bloodshed, but as long as the country was stable and the people were safe and sound, "so what if the foundation of this prosperous era is piles of bones?"

He gazed at the rising sun on the horizon, a haughty smile unique to emperors playing on his lips, and strode towards the unknown political landscape.

In the spring of the first year of the Qianlong Emperor's reign, the pine resin wafting from the bronze crane incense burner in the Hall of Mental Cultivation mingled with the scent of newly sprouted willow branches outside the window, somewhat dispelling the musty smell within the hall. Shi Feiyang, holding a vermilion brush, drew a vermilion checkmark on the memorial to "exempt the people from the unpaid poll tax and quota tax." Suddenly, the warbling of orioles outside the window reminded him of the hundred birds paying homage to the phoenix in the dense forests of Miao territory.

"Your Majesty's four words, 'combining leniency and severity,' are indeed a brilliant move." Chen Feng waved his newly made Xiangfei bamboo fan, on which the four characters "rest with the people" were written in rouge, a tribute from Jiangnan. "Yesterday at the tavern, I heard that the people all call you the 'reincarnation of Maitreya.'"

As Shi Feiyang looked up, he saw Wei Nianhua placing the secret report from the Sticky Rod Office on his desk. The sleeves of the Sticky Rod Office commander were still damp with night dew—he had just returned from inspecting the Nine Gates. "Lenience is like Maitreya, strictness is like Skanda," Shi Feiyang said, pushing the memorial to Ortai, his gaze sweeping over the white hair at the temples of this veteran official who had served three dynasties. "What does Grand Secretary Ortai think should be the degree of 'leniency' and the degree of 'strictness'?"

Ortai gently stroked the jade pendant from the Kangxi era within his sleeve, and said in a deep voice, "The late emperor's strictness was like a sharp knife cutting through tangled hemp, while the emperor's benevolence should be like a spring breeze and gentle rain. But..." He paused, looking at the little eunuch outside the hall who was pruning the flower branches, "Some knives must be hidden in the sleeve."

At this moment, Bai Zhen flashed into the hall like a shadow, his eagle claws still bearing traces of undried blood: "Your Majesty, the secret room in Hongxi's residence has been searched, and we found..." He suddenly stopped, his gaze sweeping over Ortai.

Shi Feiyang raised his hand to indicate that it was alright, and Bai Zhen continued, "It is a dragon robe that Longkodo privately made back then, embroidered with a five-clawed golden dragon."

Chen Feng snapped his fan shut: "This is a crime punishable by the extermination of nine generations of one's family!"

Shi Feiyang stared at the "Essentials of Governance in the Zhenguan Era" on his desk, his fingertip tracing the eight characters "Abolish extravagance and reduce expenses, lighten taxes and corvée labor": "Hongxi may be spared the death penalty, but he cannot escape punishment. Strip him of his title and imprison him; all male members of his household will be sent to the army, and the female members will be sent to the Xin Zhe Ku (a place for female servants). As for that dragon robe..."

He suddenly chuckled, "Let's put it on display at the entrance of the Imperial Clan Court."

Wei Nianhua's pupils shrank sharply: "Does Master intend to use this dragon robe to intimidate us?"

Shi Feiyang got up and walked to the window, watching Sukhbaatar's cavalry escorting grain carts through the Meridian Gate. The large banners with the character "赈" (relief) on the carts fluttered in the wind: "Yunlu, Hongxi, and other relatives always think that my benevolence is weakness."

As he turned around, the sun, moon, and star patterns on his dragon robe gleamed coldly in the candlelight. "Let them know that my sword is sharper than the late emperor's, but I don't like to draw it easily."

The following morning at court, when Shi Feiyang announced the release of Fu Erdan and the granting of the title of Duke to Yun Tang, gasps of dismay rose and fell throughout the court.

Prince Zhuang Yunlu's court beads suddenly broke, and the jade beads rolled onto the blue bricks, making a crisp cracking sound.

Shi Feiyang looked at his uncle's panicked expression and recalled the secret report sent by the Imperial Guard last night—that martial arts practitioners had been frequently visiting Yunlu's residence recently. "Although General Fu misled the military, he did save the lives of three hundred soldiers on the Dzungar battlefield."

Shi Feiyang's voice was like a spring stream, seemingly gentle but with hidden sharpness. "As for Yun Tang..." He glanced at Yun Tang, who had a complicated expression below the steps, "After all, he is the bloodline of the Holy Ancestor. I cannot bear to see the imperial family decline."

After the court session, Yue Zhongqi stayed behind, the red tassel of his tiger-head spear sweeping across the gold bricks: "Your Majesty is so lenient towards these former subordinates, aren't you afraid they'll harbor rebellious intentions again?" Shi Feiyang gestured for him to come closer and whispered: "Back in Miao territory, you and I used a delaying tactic to lull Yinli into complacency, and now we're just repeating the same old trick."

He took out a secret edict from his sleeve. "This is your order to mobilize troops. Galdan Tsering of the Dzungar Khanate has submitted a petition to negotiate peace, but the garrison of Tsering's troops cannot be relaxed for a moment." When Yue Zhongqi took the secret edict, he touched the thin calluses on Shi Feiyang's palm—marks left from years of holding a knife.

The old general suddenly recalled the scene on the Miao battlefield where Shi Feiyang used his palm as a blade to cleave the rebel army's banner in two, and couldn't help but sigh: "Emperor, though now high above the nine heavens, has not forgotten the ways of the martial world."

Shi Feiyang looked out at the clear sky outside the Hall of Mental Cultivation and said softly, "Whether it's the power struggles of the martial arts world or the strategies of emperors, they are all just following the trend of the times." He recalled the scene of expelling monks and Taoists from the palace yesterday. When those Taoist alchemists were driven out of the palace gates, they were still clutching the so-called "Nine-Turn Golden Elixir" in their arms. "Father Emperor may believe in these illusory things, but I only trust this vast country and the people in it."

As night fell, Shi Feiyang was reviewing memorials in the Hall of Mental Cultivation when he was suddenly drawn to the sound of a zither coming from outside the window.

He pushed open the window and saw Chen Feng sitting on the eaves, gently plucking the strings of a zither with the ribs of a fan—a Miao zither brought back from Miao territory.

"Does Your Majesty still remember when we used this zither music to lure away the rebels in Liuzhou?" Chen Feng asked with a smile. "Now, this zither music can only be played for the moon in the Forbidden City."

Shi Feiyang took the Miao zither, his fingers lightly caressing the strings, producing a clear and melodious sound.

He suddenly thought of Lü Siniang, that woman as aloof as a plum blossom. Was she at this moment on the summit of Tianshan Mountain, holding her child and watching Tang Xiaolan practice swordsmanship?

The music gradually quickened, like the fierce battles on the battlefield of yesteryear, but abruptly stopped at its climax.

"Chen Feng," Shi Feiyang handed the zither back, "Tomorrow you will set off for Jiangnan to thoroughly investigate the matter of the return of embezzled funds to the public treasury. Remember, be as meticulous as if you were embroidering. If there is any embezzlement, no matter who it is, you must find them."

Chen Feng put away his zither and fan, a ruthless glint in his eyes: "Your Majesty, rest assured, my Bone-Piercing Nails will target only those corrupt officials who are rolling in fat."

As the third watchman's clapper sounded, Shi Feiyang sat alone on the dragon throne, gazing at the mountain of memorials piled on his desk.

In the flickering candlelight, he seemed to see the figure of Emperor Yongzheng appearing and disappearing in the light and shadow.

“Father, look,” he said softly, “I have inherited your Sticky Rod Office and learned your iron-fisted policies, yet I have still forged a different path.” Outside the window, Wei Nianhua’s farewell hook rang again, the signal for the Sticky Rod Office to change shifts. Shi Feiyang took out a dragon hook from his waist; the four characters “Refrain from Haste and Be Patient” on the hook had been polished to a shine.

He understood that this way of governing the country, which combines leniency and severity, is like two sides of a dragon hook—one side is benevolent governance, and the other side is political maneuvering. Only in this way can one forge his own path to becoming an emperor in the ever-changing political arena.

As the first rays of dawn climbed through the window of the Hall of Mental Cultivation, Shi Feiyang unfolded a new memorial. His vermilion brushstrokes were powerful and penetrating: "Order all provinces to strictly investigate false reports of land reclamation. Those who violate this order shall be executed!" Before the ink was even dry, he had already risen and headed towards the Palace of Heavenly Purity.

There, more pressing national affairs awaited his decision. And every brick and every tile of the Forbidden City would bear witness to how this new emperor, with his wisdom and iron fist, would write a glorious chapter in the Qianlong era.

The bronze bells on the eaves of the Hall of Supreme Harmony were still covered in morning dew, and the golden bricks had been gilded into flowing amber by the rising sun.

Shi Feiyang held the vermilion pen between his fingertips, and the ink on the memorial to "abolish the Council of Princes and Ministers" spread out like congealed blood.

Suddenly, the sharp sound of iron armor scraping against each other rang out outside the palace. Sukhbaatar led his Xuanjia Iron Guards like a tide across the Danbi (imperial steps), forcing the three white-haired Princes of State to stand before the white marble steps.

Prince Li, Daishan, slammed his dragon-headed cane heavily on the steps, the coral bead in the gilded dragon's mouth rattling loudly: "The Emperor has just ascended the throne, and he's already trying to discard us after we've served our purpose? When we followed the Holy Ancestor to quell the Rebellion of the Three Feudatories, you were still an infant!"

The aged voice, laced with anger, echoed through the empty hall.

Shi Feiyang slowly pushed the memorial toward Wei Nianhua. The commander of the sticky rod took it with his hands hanging down, his wide sleeves slipping down half an inch to reveal a token embroidered with a black spider web pattern: "Does Your Highness know that the fire at the Imperial Clan Court last night was unusually strange?"

He deliberately dragged out the last syllable, watching Daishan's pupils suddenly contract, "The family genealogy and secret letters in Prince Hongxi's study have now all turned to ashes."

The air inside the hall froze instantly. Chen Feng strolled out, waving an octagonal golden fan. The fan was blank, yet a faint smell of blood emanated from its opening and closing—the black iron fan ribs had been soaked in the heart blood of the Khorchin princes.

Bai Zhen lay like an eagle on the dragon pillar behind the throne, his claw-shaped handguards glowing with a faint blue light. The attendant closest to the dragon table took three steps back, his robes soaked with cold sweat.

"The Council of Princes and Ministers has spanned three reigns," Shi Feiyang said as he rose, his twelve-symbol dragon robe sweeping across the imperial desk, the cold light reflected from the jade dragon hook at his waist brushing across the faces of the assembled ministers. "Now it is time to give way to the Imperial Study."

He stood with his hands behind his back, looking down at the steps, his glassy eyes reflecting the flickering candlelight. "If any of you have any objections, please feel free to speak them."

In the deathly silence, only the soft clanging of the armor of the Imperial Guards led by Mu Tie'a could be heard.

On the newly made black outfit, the blood clots on the red tassels of the spear tips gleamed dark red in the morning light—these tassels had been soaked in warm blood when the thirty-three heads fell at Caishikou.

Three days later, the list of those who served in the Imperial Study was posted.

When the names of Wei Nianhua and Chen Feng appeared alongside Zhang Tingyu's, the gongs of the Six Ministries seemed to fall silent. The Minister of Revenue, holding the memorial on "equalizing the poll tax and land tax," creased his fingers through the sheepskin scroll, saying, "Your Majesty, this policy concerns the livelihood of the Eight Banners..."

“Minister Su,” Shi Feiyang suddenly interrupted, pointing his jade finger out of the hall, “bring in that noisy group of Manchus from the Meridian Gate.”

Sukhbaatar's towering figure smashed open the palace doors, and three Manchus were thrown onto the gold bricks by the Iron Guards like chickens.

The leading bannerman, his face covered in blood, still roared with his neck stiff: "You, as the banner chief, are helping the Han people oppress our compatriots! We refuse to accept this!"

Shi Feiyang sneered, and the Mingyu Gong was quietly activated. The chill rising from his palm instantly condensed into frost flowers.

He raised his hand and waved it lightly, an invisible force like a knife, and the bannerman's braid snapped off with a "crack," the hair still bearing half a piece of flesh and blood: "I am the ruler of the world, not the bannerman of any clan!" Before he finished speaking, Wei Nianhua's parting hook was already hanging over the bannerman's throat, and Chen Feng's golden fan unfolded, the two words "reform" glaringly bright.

"Report—!" An urgent report shattered the deathly silence outside the palace: "The Shandong governor reports a locust plague!"

Shi Feiyang fiddled with the Hetian jade dragon hook on the table, then suddenly chuckled: "Mu Tie'a, is the 'disaster relief silver' you brought enough?"

The newly appointed commander of the Imperial Guards understood, and amidst the clanking of armor, he clasped his hands in a fist salute: "Your Majesty, I have specially ordered the craftsmen to fill the core of the silver ingots with lead, so that corrupt officials will have nowhere to hide!" That night, at the Governor-General's Mansion in Jiangnan.

The newly appointed governor looked at the plaque inscribed with "Upright and Just" bestowed by the emperor and was about to reach out to wipe it when he suddenly heard a soft click from a mechanism.

The plaque slowly flipped up, revealing the entrance to the secret passage—the agents at the sticky pole were masked, and the farewell hooks at their waists gleamed with an eerie light.

The Shandong governor, holding the heavy "disaster relief silver," was about to put it into the treasury.

In the candlelight, the patterns on the surface of the silver ingot suddenly twisted and deformed, revealing the bluish-gray lead core inside. A long cry of an owl came from outside the window, and three dark figures burst in through the window. Bai Zhen's eagle claws flashed coldly, and before the governor could cry out, a thin line of blood appeared on his throat.

The night in the Forbidden City grew ever deeper amidst the comings and goings of secret agents from the Sticky Rod Office.

Shi Feiyang sat alone in the Hall of Mental Cultivation, looking at the newly delivered secret report on his desk, a cold smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

He gently stroked the four characters "avoid haste and be patient" on the jade dragon hook, and suddenly recalled the bloody battles on the Miao battlefield.

It turns out that the game of this vast empire is never about making a move without regret through mercy—only by using blood as ink and bones as pieces can one forge one's own path to becoming an emperor in this treacherous world of court politics.

The military reorganization was the most ruthless. Shi Feiyang cut the rations and pay of the Eight Banners soldiers by 40%, but added the "Valiant Cavalry Battalion" to the Green Standard Army, equipping the elite troops with poisoned arrows captured from Miao territory. The newly appointed Governor-General of Zhili, Yue Zhongqi, was granted the seal of "Grand General Who Pacifies the Distant Regions," but when he was mobilizing troops, he discovered that every general's order had to be stamped with the "Secret" seal on the sticky rod.

"His Majesty is trying to force the Eight Banners into rebellion," Yue Zhongqi whispered at a private banquet in the Grand Council. Wei Nianhua finished his wine and tapped the "General History of the Eight Banners" on the table with his knuckles: "Only by forcing a few old men to rebel can the new army rise. Besides..."

He glanced out the window; Bai Zhen's figure was flashing past the glazed tiles. "Keep an eye on them; they can't cause any trouble."

Six months later, Shi Feiyang received Mongolian princes at Changchun Garden, where the plum blossoms in the Imperial Garden were in full bloom.

Looking at the kneeling nobles, he suddenly recalled the bamboo houses on the Miao battlefield that had been trampled by the Qing army's iron hooves.

“I’ll give you two choices,” he said, twirling his prayer beads, each bead inlaid with the fingernail of an informant. “Either hand over your military power in exchange for a hereditary title, or…” Before he could finish speaking, Chen Feng’s fan snapped open, revealing a portrait of the second son of the Khorchin prince.

The princes trembled as they kowtowed, obediently handing over the tiger tally used to mobilize troops.

In the distance, Sukhbaatar's cavalry were practicing a new formation, their hooves beating in unison like war drums. Startled crows flew past the "Upright and Bright" plaque, leaving behind a few black feathers.

This power reshuffle was like a sharp blade cutting through the bamboo, gradually eliminating the influence of the old aristocracy.

As Shi Feiyang sat on the dragon throne, listening to the shouts of "Peace and Prosperity" coming from outside the palace, he suddenly recalled the look in Yongzheng's eyes before his death—it was not the look of a father looking at his son, but the look of a falcon looking at its eaglet.

Now, the fledgling eagle has spread its wings, weaving a new cage with iron will and cunning, firmly trapping this vast land within.

The secret agents of the Sticky Rod Office are like the spikes on a cage, making everyone who tries to struggle first consider whether their blood is enough to stain the golden dragon throne.

Having stabilized the situation in the capital, Shi Feiyang decided to travel incognito. He handed over the reins of government to his beloved son Yonglian, with Empress Fucha acting as regent. He then led Wei Nianhua, Bai Zhen, several guards, and a few palace maids skilled in martial arts, disguised as merchants, and quietly left the palace.

The Zhuque Avenue in the Imperial City was bustling with traffic.

Shi Feiyang was dressed in a moon-white brocade robe, with only a plain silver pendant hanging at his waist. He looked like an ordinary merchant, but he exuded an aura of authority without anger.

The bluestone slabs of Zhuque Street were scorching hot from the sun. Shi Feiyang, gently waving a bamboo fan, walked through the crowd, his silver pendants peeking out from under his moon-white brocade robe. He arrived at the door of the "Big Iron House".

Suddenly, the two bodyguards' broadswords crossed and blocked his path. The sparks that flew from the point where the blades met burned a scorch mark on the hem of his clothes.

"This gentleman..." Before the bodyguard could finish speaking, a gust of wind escaped from Shi Feiyang's sleeve, making the blade vibrate and hum.

Wei Nianhua took a half step forward without making a sound, and the parting hook on his sleeve was already three inches out of its sheath.

Just then, a soft ringing of a copper bell came from inside the door, and the three characters "Jinqianbang" on the gilded plaque suddenly flipped over, revealing a dark pattern on the back—the mark of the "Hundred Victories Knife Technique" created by the Shi family's ancestor.

When Shi Taishan lifted the curtain and stepped out, he saw Shi Feiyang lightly stroking the cloud and thunder patterns on the doorpost with his fingertips.

The leader of the Money Gang's pupils shrank suddenly. The visitor's seemingly casual movement had actually landed precisely on the key mechanism.

"Please come in, honored guest!" He greeted him with clasped hands, but his gaze was fixed on the other person's smooth, jade-like skin—a clear sign that he had cultivated the Mingyu Gong to the "rejuvenation" level.

Passing through seven iron gates, the sandalwood tables and chairs in the reception room gleamed with a faint, cold light.

The moment the teacup offered by Shi Taishan touched Shi Feiyang's palm, the tea inside suddenly froze into ice. "This 'Nine-Bend Oolong' from the gang leader is even stronger than the mare's milk wine from the north," Shi Feiyang chuckled, running his fingertip across the cup, causing the ice to crack in a spiderweb pattern.

Shi Taishan broke out in a cold sweat instantly, finally realizing that the person in front of him was no ordinary merchant.

His gaze swept over the portrait of his ancestor hanging on the wall, and he cupped his hands and said, "Could it be that your extraordinary skills are related to my ancestor Shi Feiyang?"

Before he finished speaking, Shi Feiyang had already stood up and stared at the portrait. His heroic figure, who had roamed the martial arts world two hundred years ago, gradually overlapped with his reflection in the mirror.

"I only learned the basics by chance." He turned around calmly, lightly tapping the wall full of escort flags with his folding fan. "I've heard that the Money Gang runs a silver shop and escorts goods, but never gets involved in underworld business?" Shi Taishan perked up and pointed to the gilded abacus in the corner: "To be honest, senior, I have 365 branches, and every penny in the ledger can withstand scrutiny from the martial arts world."

He suddenly lowered his voice, "Just half a month ago, the escort ships on the Jiangnan waterway were robbed, and only seven of the thirty-six brothers returned."

Shi Feiyang's fan ribs suddenly tightened, and the tear stains on the Xiangfei bamboo seemed to seep blood. "Which villains are you?" Wei Nianhua had already flashed to the window at some point, and the breathing of the fifteen hidden agents outside the window stopped at the same time.

Shi Taishan picked up the broken blade on the table, the notch still stained with black blood: "Judging from the poisoning technique, it looks like the Giant Whale Gang's 'Dragon Saliva Triple Wave.' But our spies along the way say that the Red Flag Branch Leader of the Heaven and Earth Society is also lurking in the vicinity."

Bai Zhen's figure suddenly appeared in front of the window, startling the swallows and sparrows on the beams.

Shi Feiyang gazed at the falling wood chips, recalling the bamboo houses trampled on the Miao battlefield: "Which gangs in the martial world are still causing trouble?"

His voice was eerily calm, yet it caused the temperature in the entire room to plummet.

Shi Taishan wiped the cold sweat from his brow and unfurled the leather scroll: "The Red Flower Society has recently been recruiting in the Yellow River basin, and the Dirty Clothes Faction and the Clean Clothes Faction of the Beggars' Sect are at odds again. The most troublesome is the Jiao Guan Gang; they've set up roadblocks on the Shu Road and even dared to rob the imperial silver..."

Before he could finish speaking, Shi Feiyang had already instinctively channeled his Mingyu Gong to the "Supreme Forgetfulness: Ice Soul Cold Prison," the sharp energy carving a half-zhang-long crack in the wall. "These scoundrels!" Wei Nianhua's Parting Hook emitted a clear, melodious sound, "This humble servant..." "Wait." Shi Feiyang raised his hand to stop him, the ice crystals in his palm quietly melting, "Does Chief Shi know why the bandits are so persistent?" He strolled to the window, gazing at the vendors carrying loads on Zhuque Street.

"Merchants pursue profit, commoners seek survival; if not driven to desperation, who would willingly become an outlaw?" Shi Taishan nodded thoughtfully, then suddenly pulled a wax pill from a hidden compartment: "Senior, please look, this is news of a secret meeting between the Youlong Gang and the Wanma Hall. They plan to meet on the fifteenth of next month..."

Before he could finish speaking, a dragon hook suddenly appeared from Shi Feiyang's sleeve, its eerie blue light illuminating the family motto "Upright and Honorable" on the wall. He took out several gold bricks, gold leaves, and gold ingots from a mysterious deerskin pouch at his waist, placed them on the coffee table, clasped his hands in a fist salute, and turned to leave.

While Shi Taishan was speechless with astonishment, Shi Feiyang had already left the big iron house.

Shi Feiyang walked to the side of the street and beckoned Wei Nianhua over: "Convey my oral message..."

He lowered his voice, so that only Wei Nianhua could hear him, "Have the Sticky Rod Office investigate this matter thoroughly immediately." As he turned around, his moon-white brocade robe swept across the desk, rolled the secret letter into his sleeve, and said to Wei Nianhua, "The road of this world cannot tolerate such a coward."

Chen Feng leaned closer and whispered, "Master, should we...?"

"No rush." ​​Shi Feiyang looked at the fiery clouds on the horizon and recalled Yue Zhongqi's tiger-headed spear when he ascended the throne. "Have the generals from all over the country secretly gather together and find out the details of these gangs..." Before he finished speaking, a child's cry suddenly came from the street corner, and a vendor's vegetable basket was kicked over by several strong men.

Shi Feiyang stopped in his tracks. Wei Nianhua immediately understood, and with a flash of cold light, the three hooligans clutched their wrists and collapsed to the ground screaming in pain.

“Remember,” Shi Feiyang bent down to pick up the fallen vegetables and handed them to the crying child, “it’s easy to suppress bandits, but difficult to win the hearts of the people.” He quietly slipped the money for the vegetables into the child’s hand, and as he turned away, his moon-white brocade robe billowed in the twilight, resembling the chivalrous figure who once roamed the martial world. (End of Chapter)