Song Dynasty: Yuan Dynasty, you didn't expect this, did you? I'm still alive.

Zhu Di dispatched 10,000 troops from Yingtian Prefecture to Quanzhou in the south.

On the surface, it's about cracking down on smuggling; behind the scenes, it's about deterring petty criminals.

How could two hundred or so fishermen dare to rebel without anyone fanning the flames behind the scenes?

He didn't believe it.

Did they deceive Zhu Di?

Maybe in the next life.

Troops were dispatched, but the battle proved far more difficult than anticipated.

With the Ming army pressing in, Song Shang was no match for them—if they faced them head-on.

The problem is that they never match.

Song Shang's information network was as efficient as a seagull's; the news arrived before the ship even docked.

When the Ming army arrived at the private port, the dock was empty, with only a few rotten planks and half a basket of unwanted salted fish.

The Song merchants had already moved to another bay to unload their goods, but they continued to trade and earn money as usual.

Let's split up and block them; we can't win if we have too few men.

The Ming army's equipment included muskets, bows and arrows, swords and spears, plus several small bronze cannons with a range of 500 meters.

Song Shang was carrying a mysterious needle gun, and a small naval cannon was mounted on the bow of the ship, with a range of more than a thousand meters.

The Ming army's muskets had to be fired standing up, making them easy targets in front of the Xuanji needle gun.

Even if they charged forward regardless of casualties—there were indeed some who didn't care about their lives, a group of Japanese slaves, howling "Loyal to our master," grabbed their samurai swords and pounced.

After dealing with this group of desperate criminals, Song Shang had already left, a wisp of white smoke rising from the stern chimney as if waving goodbye.

You can disregard human life for the sake of merit, but Song Shang doesn't treat his subordinates like human beings either.

How do we compare them?

When Song Dynasty merchants' ships docked in Japan, they found plenty of impoverished samurai willing to die for them.

To them, Song Shang was their savior who rescued them from their suffering, and to die for Song Shang would be the greatest honor of their lives.

As for where all these bankrupt samurai came from in Japan—that's best left unsaid.

India, which is known for its complacency and apathy, at least once caused a major upheaval with a three-million-peasant uprising.

Since Japan became a colony of the Song Dynasty, the scale of any rebellion has never exceeded one thousand people.

Perhaps it's because India is lucky that it can always contribute to the government's major initiatives; Japan, on the other hand, is confined to a corner of the world and, apart from making some contributions to the medical field, rarely gets a chance to participate.

After a month of cracking down on smuggling, the Ming army came up empty-handed.

Saying they came empty-handed isn't entirely accurate.

They captured quite a few Japanese.

As for battle reports, they can be embellished a bit, such as "captured several Song bandits," and that's enough to get by.

The Ming army completed its mission, but Ma Lin, the commander of Quanzhou who had followed them, was in deep trouble.

After a month of hard work, we suffered heavy losses and didn't get a single credit.

He returned home covered in dust and grime—it felt like the sky had fallen.

The house burned down.

Years of savings were burned to ashes in a single fire.

Fortunately, everyone in the family is safe.

Standing before the charred ruins, Ma Lin understood everything. The Ming army had come from the capital, worked with impunity, and then left without a second thought.

But Ma Lin is from Quanzhou, his ancestral graves are here, and his roots are here.

This time, only the house was burned down; no one was harmed. It was a warning.

Who knows what we'll burn next time?

"The waters of the Canglang River are muddy, but I can wash my feet in them."

Ma Lin remained silent.

Without his cooperation, the Ming army struggled to advance in Quanzhou and soon retreated to the capital in disgrace.

A vigorous crackdown on smuggling, which cost a lot of military funds, ended up being a fizzle-out affair.

When the news reached the palace, Zhu Di sat behind his desk and, for the first time, felt a powerlessness seeping from the very marrow of his bones.

He finally understood what kind of opponent he was facing.

He used to view people with the perspective of a superior nation, treating the Song Dynasty no differently than he treated barbarians.

In terms of etiquette and law, the Song Dynasty was more orthodox than the Ming Dynasty;

In terms of territory, the Song Dynasty was several times larger than the Ming Dynasty;

In terms of wealth, the Song Dynasty was miles ahead of him;

In terms of weaponry, theirs are like divine artifacts, something the Ming Dynasty could never reach, no matter how hard it tried.

They originally thought that making the cannon bigger and longer would allow it to fire 3,000 meters, but after two years, the Ming Dynasty's metallurgy couldn't even support the cannon barrels.

In terms of manpower, the Ming Dynasty might have an advantage, but the Song Dynasty was able to command so many barbarians, so ultimately, the Song Dynasty had the advantage in manpower.

How did the mighty Song Dynasty manage to lose to the Mongols back then?

Kublai Khan, you deserve to die.

If you don't nip the problem in the bud, are you even human?

I'm so angry, so angry, I really want to calm down.

Zhu Di's frustrated gaze swept across the map, finally settling on the word "Tartar".

Suddenly, an idea struck me.

We can't afford to offend the Song Dynasty, so surely we can take our anger out on the Mongols?

Didn't the Song Dynasty love doing business?

Fine, I'll lower the tariffs back down so you can earn money peacefully. I'll use your tax money to fight the Mongols.

The Song Dynasty was so powerful, perhaps because its territory was so vast.

I will also expand my territory, and one day I will surpass them.

Tariffs have been reinstated.

The Song merchants weren't stupid. The official port had good conditions, so there was no need to go to a smuggling port. They were doing their business legitimately.

Zhu Di quickly raised the necessary funds for his military campaign.

In the sixth year of the Yongle reign (1408), an envoy was sent to the Tatars, requesting "peace and harmony, with the Emperor ruling China and the Khan ruling the northern deserts, forming a brotherly alliance, with the Ming Dynasty as the elder brother and the Tatars as the younger brother, and living in peace with each other forever."

After writing the imperial edict, Zhu Di read it over and over again, finding it very pleasing to the eye each time.

So this is what it feels like to be an older brother?

Unexpectedly, the envoy was killed.

Zhu Di was furious: "Those who defy orders shall be annihilated."

In July of that year, the Duke of Qi, Qiu Fu, was appointed as the General Who Conquers the Tartars, leading an army of 100,000 to attack the Tartars.

Qiu Fu underestimated the enemy and advanced recklessly, leading more than a thousand men to the Luqu River. Due to poor command, he was killed in battle along with Marquis Wucheng Wang Cong, Marquis Tongan Huo Zhen, Marquis Jingan Wang Zhong, and Marquis Anping Li Yuan, and the entire army was wiped out.

Zhu Di was furious and decided to personally lead the expedition.

The 500,000-strong army penetrated deep into the northern desert. In May, they decisively defeated Benyashiri's army on the banks of the Onon River. Benyashiri escaped with only seven horsemen.

The Ming army defeated Arughtai's forces in the Xingan Mountains, and Arughtai fled far away with his family, achieving a great victory.

Later, Arughtai surrendered and Zhu Di enfeoffed him as the Prince of Hening.

Prior to this, Mahmud, the leader of the Oirat Mongols, had been enfeoffed as the King of Shun Ning, Taiping as the King of Xian Yi, and Batu Boluo as the King of An Le.

However, the Oirat forces grew increasingly powerful, not only blocking the Ming Dynasty's passage to the northwest, but also attempting to control the Tatars.

. . .

In the same year, Xinxiang Gewu Academy was established.

Peng Boting is about to be driven to his death by his master.

My master is a highly accomplished Taoist master who only rests for four hours a day—no, four hours.

He spent the rest of his time cultivating immortality, meditating, refining elixirs, and deciphering celestial scriptures. His eyesight remained sharp, his back was straight, and his spirit was as vigorous as an old pine tree that had become a spirit.

Peng Boting has shallow skills and a weak foundation. He can only keep up with his master's pace by relying on his indomitable spirit.

But people aren't made of iron. When sleepiness comes, my eyelids droop and the words on the scriptures turn into tadpoles, swimming around in front of my eyes.

We need external help.

There were many ways to refresh oneself during the Eastern Song Dynasty, with coffee and tobacco being the most popular.

He cannot touch tobacco—Taoism has precepts against five pungent vegetables and three forbidden foods.

"Hun" does not refer to meat, but to plants with strong aromas.

Taoists believe that fresh breath is the most basic respect for the gods, and that pungent things bring bad breath and offend the gods.

Tobacco has a strong smell and has long been classified as one of the five pungent vegetables.

That leaves only coffee.

Coffee can be a pick-me-up, but Peng Boting really doesn't like the taste.

It's bitter and astringent, and leaves a sour taste in your mouth after drinking it, like having a mouthful of burnt tree bark.

He always had to pinch his nose before drinking it, and then he would frown for a long time afterward.

If you can't drink it, then you'll have no choice but to—refine elixirs.

Peng Boting is a Taoist priest.

Taoist alchemists practicing alchemy is a matter of course.

He certainly knew why coffee was energizing.

The academy had already thoroughly researched this; the active ingredient was caffeine, which is not unique to coffee but is found in many plants.

He put coca leaves, kola nuts, sugar, spices, and caramel coloring together, set up a stove, and simmered it over a low flame.

The medicinal liquid bubbled and bubbled, a deep brown color, as thick as ink, its sweet aroma mixed with the bitterness of herbs, filling the entire alchemy room.

Once it's cooked, add cold water and stir—and it's done.

One sip, and the energizing effect is no less than that of coffee, but the taste is much better, sweet with a hint of indescribable fragrance.

With the help of this pot of "elixir", Peng Boting was finally able to keep up with his master's pace.

The turning point came late one night when I was lost in the process of cultivating immortality.

He had been deciphering the celestial book for several hours in a row, his mind was like a mess, and his eyelids were so heavy that he couldn't lift them.

It needs to be diluted with water.

He found the water jug, poured it in, and stirred it.

Then he froze.

Something seems off.

He looked down at the water jug ​​in his hand—it wasn't a jug for cold water, it was for soda water.

Soda water is carbonated water with dissolved air; it's something that people at the academy make for fun.

By sheer accident, I exchanged the wrong item.

Peng Boting stared at the pot of dark brown liquid bubbling away in his hand for a long time.

Pour it out?

Pity.

Besides, he was too lazy to cook another pot.

"Soda water is harmless to the human body, so theoretically it shouldn't kill anyone."

Peng Boting, unafraid of death, took a bite.

The bubbles burst on the tip of my tongue, sending a refreshing, stimulating sensation straight to my head.

He closed his eyes, exhaled a long breath, and felt light as if he were walking on clouds.

"I, Daoist Master, have succeeded."

He named this thing Coca-Cola.

Good things shouldn't be kept to yourself.

Peng Boting distributed the finished products to his fellow disciples, and a long queue formed in the alchemy room.

It's sweet and fizzy. After drinking it, I burped, and the burp came out of my nose, making me feel completely refreshed.

Having a cup of wine during a break from cultivating immortality washes away fatigue and allows one to study the Great Dao for an extra two hours.

The news spread faster than bubbles.

Within a month, the entire Gewu Academy knew that Peng Boting had concocted a drinkable "elixir."

The Royal Chamber of Commerce has a nose that's sharper than a dog's.

The person in charge personally visited Peng Boting, all smiles, and presented the cooperation plan: You provide the formula, I will provide the money, factory, shops, and fleet, and we will split the profits.

Coca-Cola doesn't present any major technical challenges; with the technology of the Eastern Song Dynasty, mass production wouldn't be a problem. The main issue is the formula.

Peng Boting is a Taoist practitioner who neither understands nor is enthusiastic about business. It would be best if someone were willing to take care of these mundane affairs for him.

He nodded.

His thought at the time was: "If someone sells it for me, I won't have to worry about it, and my fellow disciples will have something to drink. That's good."

But this thing later spread throughout the world, which was something he hadn't expected.