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

Chapter 199 Why did Zhang Jiangling ultimately fail? Because he was a human, not a god!

The official road stretches for two hundred li from Cangzhou to Dezhou.

Although warm spring is approaching, this vast plain connecting Beizhili and Shandong is still dominated by a withered and gray color scheme.

The wind was hard, blowing from the northwest wilderness with a sharp, bone-scraping force, stirring up the dust that had accumulated on the official road over the years, and hitting people's faces like fine sandpaper silently rubbing against their skin.

The carriage in the center of the procession, its wheels wrapped in thick leather, made only a dull thud as it rolled over the bumpy official road.

This is the emperor's carriage.

It lacks the bright yellow ceremonial procession, but its very existence is a silent deterrent.

After traveling for another two days, and taking a short rest in Dongguang County, this torrent of steel and people finally arrived at Dezhou, the northern gateway of Shandong.

The prefect of Dezhou, along with the Left Councilor of the Shandong Provincial Administration Commission who had been waiting there, led all the officials of Dezhou Prefecture to kneel and welcome them at the pavilion ten miles outside the city.

Looking into the distance, at the end of the dusty official road, a large group of officials in crimson and green robes knelt.

Their posture was more respectful and standard than any official of any rank seen in Beizhili. From the angle of their kneeling to the sound of their kowtows and the tone of their shouts of "Long live the Emperor!", everything was as if it had been measured with a ruler and was impeccable.

The emperor's carriage did not stop.

The convoy drove straight past them, kicking up dust that covered their faces and heads. No one dared to look up, let alone wipe it off.

He remained kneeling until the tail of the entire procession disappeared into the heavy gate of Texas before he dared to stand up shakily.

……

night.

The Dezhou post station was already completely surrounded by the Embroidered Uniform Guard and the new emperor of the Beijing Garrison. There were guards every three steps and sentries every five steps. Not even a night owl could fly over the eaves.

In the innermost room of the inn, two lanterns hung under the porch in front of the door. The dim yellow light swayed in the night wind, casting long and distorted shadows of two figures waiting outside the closed door.

The newly appointed Right Vice Minister of the Ministry of Revenue, Hou Xun, and Yang Sichang, the Director of the Department of Military Affairs of the Ministry of War, stood one in front of the other under this corridor.

Neither of them spoke.

In the north, even in March, the nights are still chilly.

Hou Xun subconsciously tightened his official robe. He didn't actually feel cold, but he could feel another kind of more piercing chill rising up from the depths of his heart.

This journey, from the capital to Bazhou, and now to Dezhou, took only a dozen days, yet it was far more thrilling than any of the ups and downs he had experienced in his official career over the past half of his life.

He, Hou Xun, Hou Xuanweng, came from an impeccable Donglin family.

His father, Hou Zhipu, rose to the position of Minister of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices and was a veteran member of the Donglin Party during the Wanli era. In the thrilling "Succession Crisis," he risked his entire life to support the late Emperor Zhu Changluo and was a benchmark figure in the public discourse of the literati.

His younger brother, Hou Ke, was also a key figure in the Jiangnan Fushe Society and was regarded as a rising star in the Donglin camp.

The Hou family, from the inside out, from bloodline to spirit, is deeply imprinted with two words—"Donglin".

Their political lives, their family honor and disgrace, their prestige and connections were all completely intertwined with the rise and fall of the Donglin Party.

The current emperor dislikes the Donglin Party.

This is no secret now, either in government or among the public.

From Zhou Yanru's entire family to Qian Qianyi and Qian Longxi, who are now hiding in Jiangnan and dare not return to the capital, every single incident reveals an undisguised disgust and murderous intent.

Therefore, Hou Xun was afraid.

He was so afraid that every day felt like walking on a knife's edge, and he lived in constant fear.

Yet the emperor's attitude towards him was ambiguous and unpredictable.

He, who had just been dismissed from his post as the military commissioner of Bazhou due to a crime, was surprisingly promoted to the position of vice minister of the Ministry of Revenue and accompanied the emperor on his southward journey.

This sudden favor is more agonizing than any torture.

Along the way, they watched as the emperor used a brutal, direct, and even unrefined approach to tear apart the fig leaves of peace and prosperity that were being used by local government officials, forcing those sanctimonious gentry and officials who were usually full of righteous words to reveal their ugly side.

Based on the teachings of sages that Hou Xun had received over the years, he looked down on and even despised such methods from the bottom of his heart.

Too crude, too barbaric, completely contrary to the benevolent way of a king to influence people with virtue, more like... a crude warrior who just came out of the streets and only knows how to use a knife.

But one thought, like a venomous snake, kept gnawing at the deepest part of his heart, causing him pain and struggle, yet he had to admit it day after day—

The emperor is fucking right!
And yes, all of them are correct!

All of this vividly told him that the pillars and beams of the magnificent Ming Dynasty had long been eroded and decayed. While the corrupt officials in the court were certainly gnawing at these pillars of the nation, the scholars of the land, whom Hou Xun represented and protected, had also taken a significant share.

In the past, they had a common enemy—the eunuch faction!
During the Tianqi era, he was dismissed from his post for impeaching Wei Zhongxian, and together with countless Donglin Party members, he experienced that darkest period. That shared experience of suffering greatly strengthened the cohesion within the camp, making them firmly believe that they represented righteousness and justice.

But now, Wei Zhongxian, the head of the eunuch faction, follows the emperor like a pet dog, while the emperor's knife is precisely aimed at these so-called upright officials.

Hou Xun saw Wei Zhongxian's aged and swollen face in the crowd more than once.

Every time he saw it, the hatred in his heart would surge up uncontrollably.

But now, this pure hatred is mixed with a trace of inexplicable confusion.

Who exactly is the real parasite of the Ming Dynasty?
……

Yang Sichang, standing beside him, remained silent as well.

If Hou Xun's heart was a raging storm, then Yang Sichang's heart was a bottomless well, calm on the surface but containing a chilling and alarming depth.

Yang Sichang was neither a member of any party nor any faction.

More accurately, he offended both sides completely.

His father, Yang He, was kicked out of officialdom by Wei Zhongxian and forced to return to his hometown. The Yang family had an irreconcilable hatred for the eunuch faction.

Last year, Vice Minister Guo Gong was demoted and exiled. Yang Sichang, out of friendship with his fellow townsman, truthfully reported the local people's reaction to the matter, but ended up stirring up a hornet's nest among the Donglin faction.

Censor Yao Sixiao and others immediately submitted a memorial denouncing him, calling him a member of the eunuch faction!

Therefore, Yang Sichang was also filled with apprehension.

He glanced out of the corner of his eye at the unsteady young man from the Donglin family beside him.

An invisible wall quietly rose between the two, separating them by factions, grudges, and their vastly different pasts.

But tonight, this silence strangely connected them together.

Why did the emperor summon both of them together? What was the purpose of his summons?
The doors were tightly shut, isolating both the divine will and the answer.

……

Finally, as Wang Chengen bowed and completely disappeared into the darkness outside the hall, two figures walked in one after the other, following the traceless path he had left behind.

The emperor looked at Hou Xun, who was walking ahead.

At forty-one years old, a man is at the peak of his mental and emotional maturity.

Tonight, Hou Xun was dressed in a dark blue casual outfit, his eyes were calm, and his expression was impeccable.

However, the extremely slight trembling at the edge of his wide sleeves, like a startled butterfly, betrayed the turbulent waves churning within him.

A subject is not afraid of the emperor's anger or his rewards; what he fears most is the emperor waiting for him quietly in the dead of night.

This means that the emperor has thought about it for a long time and thought it through very thoroughly. To him, you may be a pawn or a weapon, but you are no longer a vague subject.

Tonight's summons was anything but ordinary. Hou Xun knew this perfectly well, but he couldn't fathom it, so he could only suppress all his turmoil and remain calm in the face of any eventuality.

Yang Sichang, standing tall and straight like a javelin behind him, did not diminish his sharp aura even when he was bowing slightly.

Compared to Hou Xun's concealment, Yang Sichang's exposure was more obvious. His breathing was slightly rapid, not purely due to tension, but rather a complex mix of tension, excitement, and longing.

He could be ostracized by the entire court, but he was not afraid of risks or dangers. His only fear was being completely forgotten in the scabbard by the sword-wielding monarch, until it became rusty.

The two knelt down, kowtowed, and shouted "Long live the Emperor!"

"Flat body."

The emperor's voice was flat.

The two men thanked the emperor and rose, standing respectfully with their hands at their sides, their heads bowed even lower than usual.

The emperor's gaze swept over Yang Sichang's straight back without lingering, and finally, like an invisible hand, gently rested on Hou Xun's shoulder.

"Hou Xun".

"Your subject is here." Hou Xun's heart skipped a beat.

The emperor leaned forward slightly, the candlelight illuminating more of his face. His deep eyes reflected two flickering flames, as well as Hou Xun's face, which was trying hard to remain calm.

"Do you know why I'm still keeping you around, and why I still need you?"

The voice remained calm, but the question was too big and too personal.

A good answer is a sign of divine grace; a bad answer is a sign of unfathomable imperial will and utter ruin.

Hou Xun's mind went through a thousand calculations in an instant. To claim loyalty to the emperor and devotion to the country? Vague. To claim exceptional talent? Arrogant. To claim ability to share the emperor's burdens? Meaningless.

Ultimately, he chose the most specific, safest, and most effective answer that best demonstrated his loyalty to the emperor.

Hou Xun bowed deeply, his voice carrying just the right amount of fear and a hint of grievance: "Your Majesty... I am truly terrified, for I did not know that the Emperor's grace was so boundless. If I may venture a guess, perhaps it is because I, in my hometown of Guide Prefecture, strongly urged the elders of my clan to cooperate with the court's new policy of 'collecting taxes as a whole, and officials and gentry paying land taxes'?"

As Hou Xun uttered those words, his heart felt as if it were being cut by a knife.

The phrase "collecting grain as one" sounds simple, but for him, a scion of a prominent family, it was nothing short of betrayal.

He remembered clearly how cold the atmosphere was in the ancestral hall when he used his father Hou Zhipu's former prestige and his own future prospects in the court to persuade and coerce the uncles and elders in the clan to give up the land taxes that should have been exempted.

The elders who usually praised him looked at him as if he were an unfilial descendant.

Some people stormed off on the spot, while others pointed at him and cursed him for forgetting his ancestors and being a traitor to his own family.

He got this done almost under duress.

But Hou Xun was betting on the future.

He was betting that the emperor's sword would eventually be wielded against the deeply troubled Henan. Rather than being passively purged and suffering bloodshed, he preferred to cut off a piece of flesh and offer it up voluntarily.

This was both a show of loyalty to the emperor and an attempt to leave the Hou family with a glimmer of hope in the coming storm.

The emperor listened quietly without interrupting until Hou Xun finished speaking, at which point a ripple appeared in his deep eyes.

He shook his head slightly.

Hou Xun's heart sank.

"That's only one reason," the emperor said slowly. "A larger part is because you're not a bookish pedant. You know how to assess the situation, and more importantly, you can analyze specific problems in specific ways. You're a remarkable person."

The last four words, though seemingly light and airy, caused Hou Xun's tense back to relax abruptly.

But he knew he had made the right gamble.

……

The emperor's praise was like a spring breeze in March, brushing against Hou Xun's heart. However, before he could savor the warmth in the breeze, the wind suddenly turned into a bitter winter.

The emperor straightened his posture, his slightly lazy, scrutinizing air vanished, replaced by an aura of supreme authority.

Hou Xun felt a chill run down his spine, puzzled by what he meant, while Yang Sichang, standing to the side, held his breath.

Both men knew that the real show was about to begin. "What do you think," Zhu Youjian said, cutting to the chase without any preamble, "that after more than two hundred years of the Ming Dynasty, and with the throne passed to me, why am I now in such dire financial straits? To the point that even at the beginning of my reign, with northern barbarians besieging the gates and bandits rising up everywhere, I couldn't even afford to reward the army?"

The question was far too grand, like a mountain crashing down on their heads.

They were stunned by the impact.

This was a question that should have been answered by cabinet ministers or the Minister of Revenue, yet it was being asked so bluntly by the Emperor to the two of them.

Hou Xun, being a seasoned official, quickly began to think after his initial shock.

He carefully chose his words, approaching the issue from the safest and most widely accepted angle:

"Your Majesty," I in my humble opinion, "the nation's financial difficulties stem from three causes. First, the border campaigns are incredibly costly. The troops stationed along the nine borders consume millions in grain and money annually, and the situation in Liaodong alone is dire, like a chasm being filled with water. The court's resources are barely enough to cover one-tenth of the burden. Second, natural disasters are frequent. In recent years, the north has suffered a severe drought, leaving vast stretches of barren land. The court's disaster relief efforts have also been extremely expensive. Thirdly..."

He paused, glanced at the emperor's expression, and then lowered his voice, "...Thirdly, it may be related to the traitorous eunuch Wei's chaos in the court, his embezzlement of state funds, and the lingering poison that persists to this day."

After speaking, Hou Xun lowered his head, giving a perfectly balanced and impeccable answer.

Shifting blame to enemies, fate, and the dead is the only way to succeed as an official.

Seeing this, Yang Sichang bowed and added, "What Lord Hou says is absolutely right. I also believe that this is due to long-standing problems. From the Han and Tang dynasties onward, in every dynasty..."

"boom!"

A deafening roar, like a thunderclap rising from the ground!
Yang Sichang's words were abruptly cut off.

The two looked up in horror, only to see the emperor slam his hand on the imperial desk, which groaned in pain as he slammed it down.

The emperor suddenly stood up!

In that instant, the anger emanating from this young emperor was like a tangible flame, instantly igniting the entire room!

The original cozy warmth was completely swept away, replaced by a burning sensation that stung the skin.

"It's all just scratching the surface!"

The emperor's roar was no longer suppressed; every word was filled with earth-shattering rage and despair.

"Border taxes? Natural disasters? Eunuch faction? Fortune? Is that all you can see? You, the pillars of the nation, who are well-versed in poetry and literature, can only offer me these kinds of道理 (principles/truths) that even street storytellers understand?!"

His gaze was like a knife, slicing harshly across their faces.

"The root is rotten!" He pointed a finger directly at the carpet, as if to pierce through the magnificent facade and reveal the filthy foundation beneath. "It's rotten in the system! Rotten in my good ministers! Rotten in the 'wealth hidden among officials and gentry'!"

"Wealth is hidden among officials and gentry!"

These words, bursting forth from the emperor's mouth, struck Hou Xun and Yang Sichang with a resounding thud.

Their faces turned deathly pale in an instant.

The emperor gave them no chance to catch their breath. He paced back and forth in front of his desk like a thoroughly enraged lion, his voice filled with violent power.

"The Yellow Register! The Fish Scale Register! The cornerstone of the nation established by our founding emperor! At the beginning of the nation, every field and every person in the land was clearly recorded! But what about now?! Two hundred years have passed! The Yellow Register is now just a shell, and the Fish Scale Register has become a joke! Officials and gentry have vast fields and numerous descendants, but how many are actually registered?! How many are paying taxes?!"

"Exemptions! Officials and gentry alike are exempt from exemptions! Scholars who pass the imperial examinations can be exempted from corvée labor and have their land taxes reduced! What a fine 'shared destiny'! My empire supports you lot, but in the end, you are the ones who will undermine the very foundation of my empire!"

Hou Xun and Yang Sichang's bodies began to tremble violently.

These words, every single one, were like a red-hot iron rod, piercing deep into their hearts.

Because they knew better than anyone that everything the emperor said was true!

Their families, their fathers, and even themselves, were the biggest beneficiaries of this "preferential treatment for officials and gentry"!
The Hou family's vast tracts of fertile land and the Yang family's prestigious local reputation—weren't they all built upon this system that drains the lifeblood of the nation?!
"Pfft!"

The two could no longer stand, as if all their strength had been drained away. They knelt down on the ground, their foreheads hitting the carpet hard with a dull thud.

"Your Majesty, I am guilty! I beg you to punish me!"

"I deserve to die ten thousand times!"

Fear mixed with overwhelming shame gnawed at their insides like countless venomous snakes.

The emperor ignored their apologies.

He walked behind the two of them, his footsteps sounding like the footsteps of death, each step pounding on their hearts.

“In local areas, when it comes to collecting land taxes, once my decree leaves the Forbidden City, it is no longer my decree. One shi of tax is subject to additional charges at the prefecture and county levels, such as ‘fire loss’, ‘transfer fee’, and ‘excessive charges’, and so on. In the end, the people have to hand over one and a half shi, or even two shi of grain. Who pockets all that extra?”

Zhu Youjian stopped in his tracks, his voice low yet more penetrating than his previous roar.

"My national treasury is to be filled by their conscience? What a joke!"

"They take two million of my money, I get one million, and I'm expected to thank them?"

Fear, shame, and terror... a variety of emotions churned within them, but at the same time, a deeply rooted idea emerged like a ghost, impossible to suppress.

"It has always been so... it's the ancestral rule... what... what can be done about it?"

This is almost a consensus among them: existence implies rationality, and two-hundred-year-old rules have long become a matter of course.

The emperor seemed to see through their pitiful struggle at that moment.

The anger on his face gradually subsided, and the violent pressure transformed into a more penetrating scrutiny. He paced back and posed a second question, one that was more specific and more tricky than the first.

"Taxes are collected solely from the land, leaving the national treasury increasingly depleted; this is one of the problems. But where, besides the land, are the wealth of our Great Ming Dynasty hidden?"

Hou Xun's mind raced; this was a test of his political knowledge. He replied respectfully, "Your Majesty, since Sang Hongyang's theory on salt and iron during the Han Dynasty, salt, iron, tea, and horses have always been state monopolies, the mainstays of the national treasury. If managed properly, they might alleviate the immediate crisis."

It was still the same standard answer, full of quotations and presented in a very safe and predictable manner.

The emperor remained noncommittal, turning his gaze to another person: "Yang Sichang, what do you think?"

Yang Sichang went a step further than Hou Xun, his vision sharper, seeing something deeper: "What Lord Hou said is absolutely right. Besides, I believe that the profits from trade are even greater. Silk and porcelain from Jiangnan are sold overseas; coastal merchants trade between the East and West Oceans, making a hundredfold profit. If we could extract one-tenth of that, it would surely fill the national treasury."

As soon as he finished speaking, Yang Sichang was suddenly jolted, and a thought flashed through his mind like lightning.

The emperor used swift and decisive measures to forcibly reorganize the salt administration in Tianjin.
Every seemingly isolated action of the emperor was not a whim or a sudden reprimand!
In an instant, Yang Sichang's back was covered in an even deeper layer of cold sweat.

The emperor finally stopped and let out a very soft chuckle.

"Salt and iron? Trade? How nicely you put it!" He turned abruptly, his gaze piercing. "The salt merchants of Lianghuai are richer than a country, yet what percentage of my salt tax do they pay? The coastal private merchants collude with Japanese pirates, profiting from smuggling, but how much do they acknowledge in my Maritime Trade Office? The textile factories of Jiangnan produce exquisite brocades and paintings, but what has the tax on the textiles since the reign of Emperor Chengzu had to do with the national treasury?!"

Zhu Youjian was truly furious. Every time it was mentioned, he would get angry again, because that was all his money!

"Mountains of gold and silver are right under my nose, being openly dug up, looted, and hoarded in broad daylight! And I, the Son of Heaven who possesses the whole world, can only be like the most pitiful farmer, staring at my few acres of barren land, hoping for good weather and a few extra bushels of grain! Don't you think this is the biggest joke in the world?!"

These words once again shattered their spirits, leaving them speechless.

The emperor did not press them further, but instead steered the conversation toward an even deeper abyss of despair.

"Alright, even if I've found all these treasures, the next question is—why did even Zhang Jiangling fail?"

He stared at Hou Xun. "Hou Xun, you are a descendant of the Donglin faction and you look down on Zhang Jiangling the most. Tell me, what did he do wrong?"

This is a trap.

Criticizing Zhang Juzheng was the politically correct thing to do in the past for the Donglin Party, but if Hou Xun were to speak according to partisan views at this moment, he would surely anger the emperor.

Sweat beaded on his forehead as he spoke with difficulty: "Grand Tutor Zhang's thunderous policies were effective for a time, but they failed to solidify into a system. His power was too great, placing him above public authority. With his personal authority, he forcefully defied the will of the scholars and officials of the land, leading to... leading to public outcry, and with his death, his policies ceased."

"Well said, a person's death ends a policy." The emperor nodded, seemingly agreeing with his statement, but then his tone shifted, becoming incredibly cruel. "But have you ever considered why a policy can only end with the death of its leader? Why do good laws and well-intentioned ideas change once they leave the capital? Why do my decrees become nothing more than empty words once they reach the local areas?"

Before they could answer, the emperor gave the answer himself, his voice filled with extreme exhaustion and helplessness.

"Because the methods of governance are already outdated!"

"My Great Ming Dynasty has thirteen provincial administration commissions, thousands of prefectures and counties, and tens of thousands of officials. When my decrees are issued from the capital, they have to be delivered station by station by fast horse, day and night. How long will it take to reach Yunnan or Liaodong? Ten days or more! The accounts submitted by the local governments are layered and embellished by officials, making it difficult to distinguish between truth and falsehood. The Ministry of Revenue's little bit of investigation and verification techniques have long been rendered useless!"

"Mathematics is a great discipline that is essential for governing the world and applying knowledge, yet you scholars regard it as a strange skill or a trivial art! Without a thorough understanding of mathematics, how can we accurately survey the land under heaven? How can we keep track of the income and expenditure of money and grain? How can we evaluate the merits and demerits of officials?"

He paused for a moment, his gaze sweeping over the two faces that were filled with apprehension yet gradually lost in thought.

"Zhang Jiangling's mistake was that he tried to fight against the entire rigid and corrupt system with his own spirit! He wanted to use his personal authority to fill the huge loopholes in the system! Of course he would fail! Because he is a human being, not a god!"

The emperor finally let out a long sigh, a sigh that contained regret for those who came before him, and even more so, a harsh reality.

"When a person dies, the government ceases to function; when a person dies, the law is abolished. Is this not a tragedy for high-ranking officials, and a pain for the nation?"

The two fell silent again. They had both discussed Zhang Juzheng's failure, and their conclusions were nothing more than that he "offended the scholars of the world" and "hidden his methods."

But never before had they been led by the emperor to deconstruct that doomed reform from such unheard-of perspectives as they were today.

This is a dead end.

A deadlock that they had never understood before was impossible to resolve.

……

The emperor's analysis was over.

The cold and cruel words receded like the tide, leaving behind complete silence in the room.

Hou Xun and Yang Sichang knelt on the ground, motionless, the emperor's words still echoing in their ears.

Wealth was hoarded by officials and gentry... commercial taxes were lacking... the methods of governance... the regime collapsed with the death of its leader...

Just then, the steady footsteps abruptly stopped in the center of the room.

The emperor turned around.

All the expressions on his face—anger, mockery, helplessness—had faded, leaving only a bottomless calm.

The emperor's gaze, sharp as an eagle's, was fixed on the two men still kneeling on the ground.

Hou Xun and Yang Sichang seemed to feel the weight of that gaze and struggled to raise their heads.

The emperor looked at them as if a master craftsman were examining two rough stones that had just been tempered by fire and hammered by a heavy hammer, to see if they would shatter or be of great use.

He spoke slowly, his tone commanding and unquestionable, instantly transferring all the pressure he had been bearing alone onto his two ministers.

"I have already dug out the root of the disease, along with all of you."

He paused, and that pause felt like an hour.

Then, he asked, slowly and deliberately, the question that would determine the future of the two of them and even the entire Ming Dynasty:

"So now, you all, regarding the above questions..."

"What good ideas do you have?"

The words were spoken.

The room felt as if it were being slashed by a thousand knives.

Hou Xun and Yang Sichang's faces were as white as paper in the candlelight. Their mouths were open, their throats bobbing, but they couldn't utter a single word. It wasn't because they had nothing to say, but because their minds were suddenly flooded with too many turbulent thoughts, blocking all avenues of communication.

However, even under this crushing pressure, amidst that chaotic fear, a sliver of clarity stubbornly emerged.

The Emperor went to great lengths tonight, revealing his heart and soul, laying bare this earth-shattering secret that could shake the very foundations of the nation. This was not merely to give the two of them a good scolding!
If you truly want to kill, why say more? If it's just to curse, why are there two of us?!

At the same time, a more concrete and terrifying bolt of lightning struck Yang Sichang's mind!
His pupils suddenly contracted, and a bold, almost insane association surged into his mind—the newly appointed Minister of Revenue, Bi Ziyan, and Wen Tiren, who had risen to the high position of Minister of Rites in one fell swoop… Their promotions, in his view, were completely unpredictable!

Is it...

Did they, too, kneel before this young emperor on some such night, and undergo the same soul-searching ordeal?
(End of this chapter)