The Great Song Dynasty: You were put in charge of teaching, and you produced a whole bunch of prime

Inside the meditation room, the oil lamp had burned down to its last flame, the wick crackling and flickering.

The dim, yellowish light cast menacing shadows on the mottled walls, as if foreshadowing an impending storm.

Ouyang Xiu left. This leader of the Song Dynasty's literary world wrapped his robes tightly around himself and hurriedly disappeared into the night of Bianjing.

He took away not only three missions, but also an earthquake powerful enough to shake the imperial court.

The door clicked open, and Shen Kuo squeezed in through the crack like a startled cat. Only after confirming that no one was around did he breathe a sigh of relief.

He moved closer to Jiang Lin, staring at his own headmaster who had returned to meditation on the futon, his thirst for knowledge even more intense than when he had seen some novel mineral.

"Headmaster, you just said that was the 'greatest excitement,' and that the Western Xia prince would have to spit out the meat he had swallowed..." Shen Kuo grabbed half a cold steamed bun from the table, took a bite, and mumbled indistinctly.

"According to the law of conservation of energy... uh, I mean common sense, this is impossible. She's a princess, a political bargaining chip worth real money. Unless he's been struck by lightning."

Jiang Lin slowly opened his eyes, his pupils as deep as a pool in the candlelight, exuding an unfathomable and sinister aura.

"Cunzhong, you study things by examining things, emphasizing empirical evidence. But this study of people's hearts emphasizes 'illusion'." Jiang Lin's voice was languid, yet as alluring as a hook.

"In this life, people are nothing more than chasing after 'fame and fortune.' That Western Xia prince traveled thousands of miles to propose marriage, seeking profit and power. But what if I made him understand that the price of that 'profit' would be the 'fame' that would forever prevent him from holding his head high?"

Shen Kuo swallowed the steamed bun, still somewhat dazed: "Reputation? Can you eat that? For royalty, profit is eternal, isn't it? As long as you marry a princess, what's wrong with being a little shameless?"

"That's because you're not wicked enough, and you don't understand those self-important, powerful people." Jiang Lin chuckled, his fingers lightly tapping a rhythm on his knee.

"For example, imagine someone gives you ten thousand strings of cash, enough for you to build instruments for a lifetime, but on the condition that you run three laps around Xuande Gate in Bianjing (Kaifeng) naked tomorrow, shouting 'Shen Cunzhong is an illiterate good-for-nothing.' Would you take the money?"

"Pfft—" Shen Kuo spat out the cold tea he had just drunk, his face flushed red, and he shook his head violently. "A scholar can be killed but not humiliated! If I really did that, how would I ever face anyone in the world of scientific inquiry again? That would be worse than death!"

"That's right." Jiang Lin leaned forward slightly, his eyes instantly sharpening like knives. "For ordinary people, starving to death is a big deal, losing one's integrity is a small matter. But for those high-ranking nobles, especially those who use this trip to display the power of the nation, face is their Achilles' heel."

He paused, his smile deepening, tinged with a chilling coldness: "What we need to do is package this marriage as an incredibly stinking pile of dog excrement. Whoever steps on it will be stained with its stench, and not only will the scholars of the Song Dynasty condemn him, but the aristocratic circles of Western Xia, and even all discerning people in the world, will laugh at him."

"It will make him feel that marrying this princess is a disgrace to his ancestors for eighteen generations. At that time, let alone a princess, even if the entire Jiangnan region were given to him, he would have to think twice about whether his backbone could withstand the condemnation of thousands."

Shen Kuo was stunned, and the steamed bun in his hand unknowingly fell to the ground. After a long while, he suddenly slapped his thigh, his eyes flashing with a fanatical light, the excitement of discovering a new law.

"Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant! This is what you call... 'public opinion resonance'? Just like how an army crossing a bridge in perfect unison can shake the bridge down!" Shen Kuo paced back and forth excitedly.

"Master, are you going to use the condemnation of all the literati in Bianjing to create a 'resonance' and directly shatter the psychological defenses of that Western Xia prince? What can I do? Although I don't know how to write articles, I can prepare some glowing and smoking chemical reagents to add some excitement to this spectacle?"

Jiang Lin looked at this tech geek with his peculiar thought process, and his previously tense nerves relaxed slightly. He waved his hand helplessly: "This time, we won't use gunpowder, only ink and paper. Killing doesn't require a knife; striking the heart is the most painful. Your task now is to go to sleep and recharge. We've been living a life of hardship on the run these past few days. If you collapse, who will help me max out the Song Dynasty's technology tree?"

"Oh...right." Although Shen Kuo was still somewhat unsatisfied, a wave of fatigue washed over him. He yawned widely, and without any regard for propriety, found a sheltered corner, wrapped himself tightly in a pile of dry hay, and soon began to snore softly.

The meditation room fell silent once more.

Jiang Lin, however, was wide awake. He stood up, walked to the drafty window, and gazed through the deep night, as if he could see the majestic and oppressive imperial city.

There, a young girl, treated like merchandise, awaits her unknown fate in despair.

"Zhao Lingjun..."

He gently chewed on that name between his lips and teeth. The princess who didn't utter a sound even when her feet were covered in blisters on the run, the girl who trusted him as much as she trusted a god.

Jiang Lin hated trouble more than anything in his life. He only wanted to be a carefree wealthy man in this era, or perhaps dabble in inventions and become a behind-the-scenes tycoon. But in this world, someone just had to provoke him.

Using living, breathing people as bargaining chips—did you even ask me?

Since you enjoy playing power games and using ordinary people and women as pawns, then I'll play a big game with you.

Jiang Lin closed his eyes, and a huge web was being woven rapidly in his mind.

Ouyang Xiu was the fuse, Su Shi's talent was the gunpowder, and the rumors in Bianjing were the accelerant. The Western Xia prince, whom they had never met, and even those like Wu Chong and Cai Jing who were stirring things up behind the scenes, would all be exposed in this explosion of "public opinion."

This was a hundred times more dangerous than outwitting Zhao Liben in Daming Prefecture. Back then, they were facing a local tyrant; now, they were facing a power struggle between two nations, infighting within the court, and an abyss where one wrong step would lead to utter destruction.

He is now merely a wanted "demon," without a single soldier in his hands. His only weapons are his knowledge that transcends a thousand years of this era and his ultimate control over human nature.

The night wind howled, whipping up a few withered leaves that pattered against the window paper.

Jiang Lin slowly opened his eyes, a cold glint flashing in them like a drawn blade.

just wait.

Ouyang Xiu will soon send over this sword that pierces the darkness.

When that sword falls, the world of Bianjing will change.