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

Chapter 54 A Wasteland Abandoned by the Times (Bonus Chapter for the First Twenty Chapters of the New Book)
Zhu Youjian's laughter echoed in the warm pavilion, but it quickly subsided.

His joy was not a superficial ecstasy, but rather the calm and excitement of a hunter finally spotting his prey.

He picked up the report from Zhangjiakou again, his fingers tapping lightly on the number "three million four hundred and fifty thousand taels," his eyes becoming sharp as an eagle's.

"Wang Chengen".

"This servant is here!" Wang Chengen remained prostrate on the ground, not daring to raise his head.

"Do you think 5.28 million taels is a lot?" Zhu Youjian's voice calmed down, but it carried a chilling undertone that sent a shiver down Wang Chengen's spine.

Wang Chengen was taken aback and didn't know how to answer.

This sum of money exceeds the annual revenue of the Ming Dynasty's national treasury; how can you say it's not much?

But he vaguely sensed that this was not what the Emperor wanted to hear, and judging from the Emperor's behavior these days, anything the Emperor thought was wrong was definitely not right!

Zhu Youjian didn't wait for his reply, and instead sneered to himself, "This is nothing more than their visible wealth. It's the silver stored in those shops, and the gold and silver artifacts that can be easily searched in their mansions."

He gently tossed the report onto the imperial desk, making a soft thud, then stood up and walked to the window. Gazing at the deep night outside, his voice carried a cruel resolve.

“Crack these people's bones inch by inch, torture all the managers, stewards, and servants who refuse to confess, and make them spit out every hiding place and every piece of wealth they know... This 5.28 million taels can at least triple in value! Maybe even more!”

Triple it!

That's over 20 million taels of silver!
Wang Chengen gasped, feeling as if the blood in his body was about to freeze.

"Issue my decree," Zhu Youjian turned around, his gaze icy, "to Wei Zhongxian, Zhou Quan, and Tian Ergeng. Tell them to keep digging! Even if they have to dig three feet into the ground, they must dig out every single penny that belongs to me!"

……

The wind seemed to have stopped.

The storm that swept through the entire capital and kept countless people awake all night finally showed signs of fatigue on the morning of the third day.

It no longer roared as violently as it had the previous two days, but instead transformed into an invisible yet heavy pressure that permeated the air, weighing on everyone's heart.

People were still kneeling outside the Meridian Gate.

However, the sea of ​​blue and scarlet official robes had shrunk in size compared to the previous two days.

Some elderly and frail officials, unable to withstand the biting winter cold and the torment of despair, were quietly helped back home under the cover of their colleagues.

The remaining people also showed signs of numbness and confusion.

They were like a group of fish forgotten on the beach by the tide, with nothing to do but futilely open their mouths and wait for the next surge that might come at any time.

The rumors circulating in the streets have begun to take on a slightly distorted form.

The initial shock and schadenfreude gradually transformed into a deeper level of observation over time.

The topics of conversation among peddlers and laborers in teahouses and taverns have shifted from "how high is Lord Zhou's silver mountain" to "what exactly does this young emperor want to do?"

This question is like a pebble thrown into water, creating far-reaching ripples on the broader lake of the people.

The Forbidden City remained silent.

It resembles an ancient behemoth that has quietly lay between heaven and earth after a hearty meal.

It is digesting, accumulating strength, and responding to all the outside world's prying eyes, speculations, and pressure with a chilling silence.

The afternoon sun was shining brightly, a rare treat.

The warm sun was not as scorching as in the height of summer, but rather had a gentle, warm quality. It pierced through the thin clouds, gilding the magnificent and breathtaking outline of the Forbidden City with a light yet brilliant gold.

Several officials, dressed in old, even faded, blue robes, followed behind a fair-skinned eunuch, their heads bowed, walking through the echoing shadows cast by the palace walls and halls on the empty palace path.

Their steps were light and slow, carrying a humility and caution characteristic of those who had long lived at the bottom of society.

The leader was about fifty years old, thin and withered, with graying temples.

He was wearing the robe of a seventh-rank civil official. The hem and cuffs of the robe showed signs of repeated washing, and the edges were slightly frayed.

As he walked, he couldn't help but let out a suppressed cough or two from deep in his throat. Each cough made his body tremble slightly, as if he were coughing up the last bit of life left in his lungs.

Wang Ji was formerly the Vice Minister of the Court of Judicial Review, a high-ranking official of the fourth rank.

In the early years of the Tianqi reign, a man who stubbornly adhered to the law and refused to compromise while handling a case involving Wei Zhongxian's nephew offended the then-powerful Grand Tutor, and was dismissed from his post and sent back to his hometown by imperial decree on the grounds that he was "stubborn and unfit for important tasks."

If it weren't for the new emperor's ascension to the throne and the general amnesty, and considering his somewhat unconventional spirit from back then, he was given a sinecure as a clerk at the Imperial Academy so he could make a living, he probably would have died in poverty and illness in the countryside long ago.

The distance between the fourth rank and the eighth rank is the distance of one's entire life!
The people following behind him had similar resumes to his.

There was Li Mo, an imperial censor who was once known for his impartiality in the Censorate, but was imprisoned and beaten half to death for impeaching Madam Ke for her alleged corruption in the palace, and then exiled three thousand miles away. There was Qian Qian, a sixty-year-old clerk who spent half his life in the Ministry of Justice, but was sent to Nanjing to retire simply because he refused to sign documents that implicated the Donglin Party and the Shanxi merchants. There were also several others who were ostracized and suppressed for refusing to side with the Donglin Party and the Qingliu faction, and were sidelined for many years.

They are the people forgotten by this era.

They are useless pieces who have long been ruthlessly eliminated from the game of officialdom.

Their lives were ended many years ago; all that remains is a lingering existence.

Today, however, they were summoned to the Forbidden City, a place they once knew so well yet felt so strange, by an imperial edict that came out of nowhere without warning.

No one told them why. The young eunuch who came to deliver the decree simply read it aloud expressionlessly, and then led them inside.

The young eunuch walked ahead, his steps light and steady, like an emotionless puppet, seemingly oblivious to the unease and anxiety of the adults behind him.

Passing through towering palace gates and around magnificent palaces, Wang Ji's heart sank lower and lower with each step he took through the heavily guarded gates and saw the scrutinizing gazes of the imperial guards clad in armor and wielding halberds.

He didn't know what awaited him, whether it would be a blessing or a curse.

The Emperor's swift and decisive purge of officials and merchants in the capital has already spread throughout the court and the public.

Some people applauded, while others were terrified.

Those of them who have long been on the fringes of power hold an even more indescribable attitude towards this.

I felt both relieved and terrified.

It was satisfying to see those who had bullied them back then, those who they hated to the bone but were powerless to do anything about, finally get their comeuppance.

What's frightening is that this new emperor's style of doing things is too ruthless and unpredictable. He's like a master chess player who makes ruthless moves, and no one can predict where his next move will be.

"Lord Wang, where are we...?" Behind him, Imperial Censor Li Mo finally couldn't help but step forward and ask in a low voice.

His voice trembled noticeably; the torture he endured in the imperial prison had left permanent scars on his body, as well as a deep-seated fear.

Wang Ji did not turn around, nor did he change the rhythm of his steps.

He simply glanced at the young eunuch leading the way, whose official robes seemed somewhat glaring in the sunlight, and replied indifferently, "Just follow him."

You'll know when you get there.

Wang Ji knew that asking would be pointless. In this palace, one should not ask what one should not ask, nor look at what one should not look at. This was the humble survival wisdom that these losers had gained with blood and tears, and with everything they had lost.

After walking for the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, the little eunuch finally stopped in front of a palace that was not as grand, but was more elegant and solemn.

Wang Ji raised his head, squinted, and glanced at the plaque hanging in the center above the palace gate.

The three gilded characters gleamed in the afternoon sun, each stroke brimming with power.

Wenhua Hall.

Wang Ji's heart skipped a beat.

Of course he knew about this place.

This was the place where the emperor and the Grand Secretaries of the Inner Cabinet discussed classics and history and deliberated on state affairs.

"My lords, please. His Majesty is waiting for you inside."

The young eunuch turned to the side, bowed slightly, and gestured for them to enter.

Wang Ji took a deep breath, the cold air rushing into his lungs, causing him to cough violently again. He forcibly suppressed the itching sensation in his throat, solemnly straightened his somewhat wrinkled official robe, and then took the lead in stepping across the threshold carved from a single piece of white marble.

The hall was spacious and quiet.

Unlike the bright sunlight outside, the light inside the hall was somewhat dim.

Sunlight streamed in through the lattice windows covered with Korean paper, but was mostly absorbed by the dark furnishings inside the hall.

The furnishings inside the hall were very simple, even frugal.

On both sides are rows of rosewood bookshelves that are almost as tall as the roof of the hall, densely packed with a vast collection of classics, histories, philosophical works, and literary collections.

In the very center was a large imperial desk and a throne made of the same material.

Apart from that, there is nothing else.

A young figure dressed in a bright yellow robe with twelve symbols was standing with his back to them in front of a row of bookshelves on the east side, tilting his head slightly as if searching for something.

His figure appeared somewhat slender against the backdrop of the enormous bookshelves, yet he exuded a serene composure that blended seamlessly with the room full of scriptures.

He didn't turn around when he heard footsteps.

He simply reached out and pulled a blue-covered book from the tall bookshelf.

He gently patted the dust off the book cover with his palm, a slow and patient motion, before slowly turning around.

At that moment, Wang Ji finally saw his face clearly.

Very young, even somewhat naive.

With fair skin and delicate features, he could easily be mistaken for a naive and ignorant scholar from a wealthy family if he were outside the palace.

However, his eyes were as deep as an ancient well, calm and indifferent, as if nothing in the world could be reflected in them, or as if everything in the world was already under his control.

It is the current emperor, the Chongzhen Emperor, Zhu Youjian!

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(End of this chapter)