Take control of Wei Zhongxian at the start and confiscate 100 million from him!

Chapter 18 There's only one way to deal with rotten flesh—cut it off!
The winter night was long and silent, so long that it seemed endless, so silent that you could hear your own heart beating heavily and wearily in your chest.

The lights were still on in the study of the Duke of England's residence.

The wick of that solitary lamp had been trimmed twice and the oil added once. Its light cast eerie shadows on the bookshelves on the four walls, like the silent questioning of countless ancestral spirits.

Zhang Weixian sat alone in front of this lamp for an entire night.

The gilded auspicious beast charcoal brazier in front of him had long since cooled, and the silver frost charcoal inside had turned into a pile of grayish-white embers, like a heart whose blood had been emptied out, leaving only cold ash.

Just like his current state of mind.

After the bloodshed in the Beijing garrison, he became a walking plague among the noble circles of the capital.

The once bustling mansion is now so deserted that you can hear the snowflakes falling on the bluestone slabs of the courtyard. The faint "rustling" sound is amplified countless times in the deathly silence, like countless silkworms gnawing on the mulberry leaves that represent the century-old glory of the British Duke's mansion.

Those dukes and earls who once called him brother and patted their chests at banquets saying "just say the word if you need anything" would now immediately order their drivers to turn onto a side road or simply stop by the roadside and lower the curtain when they saw his simple blue carriage from afar, as if he were carrying some ominous curse and that even a glance would taint him.

Zhang Weixian knew that Zhu Chunchen's roar of "Dig up the ancestral graves!" which echoed in the flower hall along with the sound of shattering porcelain, had spread through various channels to the backyards of every noble family's residence in the capital, becoming the sentiment of everyone.

He, Zhang Weixian, a descendant of a founding hero of the Ming Dynasty and the hereditary Duke of Ying, betrayed the Ming Dynasty for what they considered a vague "reconstruction of the dynasty" and for the grand promises made by a young emperor!

He became a butcher's knife handed to his former comrades, the hilt held in the emperor's hand!
But where should this knife fall from?
The reorganization of the Beijing garrison was like a tangled mess played with by a wildcat, with countless threads and no starting point.

Although Zhu Qian's blood was like a bucket of ice water, extinguishing the most arrogant arrogance, the intricate network of interests, like the roots of an old tree buried deep in frozen soil, remained resilient and stubborn.

Cutting off one or two roots that are on the surface is of no use at all. In the unseen darkness, new roots will soon grow out from elsewhere even more wildly.

Zhu Chunchen and the vast power behind him were like an invisible mountain, weighing heavily on everyone's hearts.

They don't need to do anything; they only need to use silence, procrastination, and feigned compliance to passively resist, and they can build an invisible wall, making all the emperor's decrees as powerless as hitting waterlogged cotton, ultimately vanishing without a trace.

This has been the case for countless years.

Zhang Weixian knew that the emperor needed a real, thunderous blow that could shatter everyone's psychological defenses!
He needs a sacrifice.

A sacrifice heavy enough to crack open this invisible mountain.

Just as Zhang Weixian was feeling extremely confused and experiencing an unprecedented sense of powerlessness and anxiety, the heavy nanmu door of the study was silently pushed open a crack.

The ample grease on the door hinges ensured that the movement was completely silent, but the chilling aura seeping in through the crack sent a shiver down Zhang Weixian's spine.

The old, wrinkled face of the butler, Zhang Fu, appeared through the crack in the door. His face was whiter than the snow outside the window, and his lips trembled as if he had seen something extremely terrifying.

"Master...Master..." His voice was hoarse and dry, as if an invisible hand was choking him. "People from the palace...the palace has come."

Zhang Weixian felt a chill run down his spine.

The arrival of someone from the palace late at night is hardly a good omen.

If the emperor had issued a decree, Wang Chengen would have come. But to have his old steward, who had served him for forty years, so terrified…

"Who?" His voice was slightly hoarse, a huskiness he himself was unaware of.

"Yes...yes..." Zhang Fu's teeth chattered, making a soft "clucking" sound, "It's Wei...Eunuch Wei..."

Wei Zhongxian?!

Zhang Weixian's pupils suddenly contracted to the size of pinpoints.

The name was like a cold, venomous snake lurking deep in his memory, which suddenly awakened, coiled around his heart, and began to tighten.

What brings this once all-powerful and influential official, known as the "Nine Thousand Years Old," to visit so late at night? Could it be...?

Before he could think it through, a soft and familiar voice, seemingly able to penetrate to the very core of a person, drifted in from outside the door, carrying a unique aura belonging to the dark palace.

"We have come uninvited and disturbed the Duke's peace and quiet."

Before he finished speaking, Wei Zhongxian's figure, like a weightless ghost, had already slipped into the study.

He walked very slowly, but his footsteps were eerily light, as if he were not walking on a solid wooden floor, but floating in the air.

Wei Zhongxian was still wearing that gray cloth robe that would be considered shabby even in the homes of ordinary wealthy families. The cuffs and collar were faded from washing, and his face wore that signature humble to the point of being obsequious.

However, behind that smile lay a chilling coldness, like an exquisite human skin mask covering a long-decayed skull.

Wei Zhongxian was not followed by any guards, not even a small eunuch carrying a lantern. He was all alone, as if he were a forgotten old friend who had come to visit a long-lost friend on such a cold winter night.

Zhang Weixian slowly stood up, his muscles tensing instantly, like an old lion preparing for battle. His gaze was sharp as a knife, fixed on the eunuch who had once made the entire Ming Dynasty court tremble. "What brings Eunuch Wei here so late at night?" Zhang Weixian's voice was cold and wary. He had no dealings with Wei Zhongxian, and had even clashed with him during the Tianqi reign because the eunuch faction attempted to seize control of the capital garrison.

He couldn't figure out what reason this person would have to see him.

Then there's only one possibility.
Wei Zhongxian seemed oblivious to the almost palpable hostility emanating from him. His small eyes darted around the study, scanning the priceless ancient books and paintings before finally settling on the open "Beijing Garrison 'Asset Restructuring' Plan" in front of Zhang Weixian, covered in charcoal markings.

He laughed, a laugh as if he were admiring a work of art stained with blood.

"The Duke is truly dedicated to the country. He's still worrying about the Emperor in the middle of the night. We in Xishan have all heard about the Duke's ruthless methods in the Beijing garrison. We admire him, we really admire him."

He walked to the table with a leisurely gait, as if he were in his own office as the Directorate of Ceremonial.

Wei Zhongxian took out a palm-sized black lacquered and gilded wooden box from his wide sleeve. The box was carved with intricate lotus patterns, and although it was exquisitely crafted, it exuded an ominous aura.

He gently placed the wooden box on the table.

"We're here to share His Majesty's burdens. And also to help the Duke resolve his current troubles."

Zhang Weixian's gaze was firmly drawn to the wooden box, which lay quietly beside the project plan. On one side was a blueprint for the future, and on the other side was a past that exuded an aura of death.

"what is this?"

Wei Zhongxian did not answer directly. He stretched out his pale, somewhat sickly hand and gently opened the box lid with his neatly manicured nails.

A soft "click" sounded remarkably clear in the deathly silent study.

There was no gold or silver jewelry, no rare antiques, and certainly no poison or daggers inside.

There was only one thick stack of account books made of the finest Korean paper.

Just like the plan the emperor had given him that day, it was filled with dense Song typeface and strings of Arabic numerals distinguished by red and black.

“This is…” Zhang Weixian’s pupils dilated slightly. He smelled a familiar scent, the scent of conspiracy and death.

"This is the Chengguo Duke's mansion, containing all the 'business accounts' from the first year of the Tianqi reign to the seventh year." Wei Zhongxian's voice was extremely low, as if he were sharing the dirtiest and most alluring secret.

He extended his delicate fingers and gracefully picked up the top page, on which was drawn a clear "asset and liability table".

"Look, these are all the farmland, shops, and pawnshops under the name of the Duke of Chengguo's mansion. Among them, there are 3,200 mu of high-quality military farmland, which were transferred from the Beijing garrison in the third year of the Tianqi reign under the pretext of 'offsetting military pay'. According to market prices, this 'asset' is worth at least 50,000 taels of silver. Of course, the military pay offset is fictitious."

He picked up another page, a "Cash Flow Analysis".

"Look again, this is the turnover of the thirteen pawnshops he owns in the capital. The annual 'profit margin' averages as high as two hundred percent. Their main customers are the soldiers in the Beijing garrison who don't receive their full pay and can only survive by pawning their ancestral armor, weapons, and jewelry. This is called... using the Duke's capital to earn the Duke's interest, and then driving the Duke's soldiers to the brink of despair. What a 'highly profitable' business!"

Finally, Wei Zhongxian produced a "Report on Related Party Transactions".

"And this is even more interesting. The Duke of Cheng's mansion has close 'commercial dealings' with General Wang of Xuanfu and General Zhao of Liaodong. They buy military equipment, such as cotton armor and crossbows, from the Armory at low prices, and then sell them to the border troops at a 30% markup. This deal brings him nearly 100,000 taels of 'net profit' every year. Of course, this money is not visible in the accounts of the Ministry of Revenue and the Ministry of War. In His Majesty's words, this is called... 'external circulation'."

Wei Zhongxian introduced the document page by page, his tone like that of a highly professional and dedicated accountant reporting to his employer.

But every word he uttered was like a poisoned blade, precisely piercing into the already rotten body of the Ming Dynasty, and then gently stirring it.

Zhang Weixian listened in silence.

His hands had unconsciously clenched into fists, his nails digging deep into his palms, causing a sharp pain, but this pain was nothing compared to the pain in his heart.

Zhang Weixian knew that the nobles were greedy, and he himself was no saint who could remain incorruptible, but their greed had exceeded his imagination.

This is no longer just about greed.

This is drinking the blood of the Ming Dynasty and eating the flesh of the Ming soldiers!

This is digging up the roots of the Ming Dynasty!
Go ahead and stir it up, all of you just keep stirring it up!!

"Lord Duke." Wei Zhongxian closed the account book, his small eyes gleaming with a penetrating light of human nature under the lamplight.

"His Majesty said that the world is like a person's body; if it's sick, it needs treatment! Sometimes, scraping the bone to remove poison is painful, but it can save your life. But sometimes, some parts are no longer sick, they're rotten! Leaving the rotten flesh will only make the whole body stink and fester, and in the end, even a god can't save it!"

He paused, his voice becoming increasingly feminine, like a snake's tongue licking Zhang Weixian's eardrum.

"There's only one way to deal with rotten flesh—cut it off!"

(End of this chapter)