Sky Curtain: The opening scene explains the four major cases of the Ming Dynasty plus the early Ming

The live stream room with a black screen did not turn off the chat channel.

The screen was completely black, except for the dense white text that was still scrolling upwards.

【"Those damned descendants of the civil service, those damned academic tycoons, they actually dare to overturn the table and directly attack the archaeological site!"】

"There's a traitor in the archaeological team, otherwise how could they dare to do it?"

"Protect the scene! Maybe this is where the true face of Ming Dynasty history will be revealed."

Before the voices of support could even settle, a massive wave of online trolls had already surged in in opposition.

"Judy Jung is just a clown who lies."

"That archaeological discovery was all fake."

"Trust the published history of the Ming Dynasty."

The subtitles on both sides were tearing at each other across the same black screen, moving so fast that names were illegible. Some started posting the other's registration time, IP address range, and posting habits, threatening to "see you offline." The tension in the comments section was palpable, no longer resembling a fan argument, but rather a tug-of-war between two opposing camps.

The sound of the helicopter's rotors drowned out everything else.

Zhu Dijun sat in the cabin, the encrypted tablet resting on his lap. Outside the window, night fell, and the streetlights below grew increasingly sparse; scattered emergency lights could already be seen in the direction of the archaeological site.

The dialog box on the tablet was still popping up.

[50姬: On-site security has been fully taken over, and the external network has been physically cut off. The academic mole's IP address has been traced to three proxy servers, and reverse engineering is underway.]

Zhu Dijun tapped his fingers on the screen a few times, but instead of replying with text, he gave a voice command.

"Keep chasing. Get to the source, don't hold back."

The plane jolted, and he gripped the armrest, his gaze falling on the dark ground outside the window. He remembered the photograph in the archaeological report—the cross-section of the blasted earthen mound of Qin Shi Huang's mausoleum, the burial pits empty, not even a single tile remaining. The accompanying caption indicated it was a filming location for a foreign streaming service; a commercial film called *Tomb Raider* had its set set at the site after the looting of Qin Shi Huang's mausoleum.

He didn't think any further. Thinking about it led him to the sinking of the Han dynasty four hundred years ago. Beneath the historical record of "the Manchu invasion," lay the deaths of at least two billion people—a figure he had verified from secret files, not just a rumor circulating online. The Han people's written language was dismantled and reassembled; Han history was stuffed into someone else's timeline, impersonated and usurped.

"There are five thieves in the mountains and seas, which are like beasts, ghosts, demons and monsters; those who hunt them will prosper."

Zhu Dijun read it aloud in a low voice, as if he were torturing himself.

He was not a saint. He did not have the ambition of Zhu Yuanzhang, who considered himself a "Celestial Empire," nor the patience of Zhu Di, who would "turn against his enemies only after he had done everything he could." He had only one thought—this debt, owed for four hundred years, must be collected in one go.

The tablet vibrated. It was another encrypted channel belonging to him, Zhu Dijun, marked with the highest level of access.

[Template Sync Log: Mechanical manufacturing completion status updated within the last 72 hours.]

Zhu Dijun opened the list.

The T-850 airframe has been mass-produced to 200,000 units. It is ready and ready for deployment.

The electromagnetic self-propelled artillery array has been deployed.

Three floating warships, hovering at an altitude of 800 meters, with no parameters specified for the caliber of their main guns, only the words "Civilian frequency band scanning prohibited" written on them.

Three space battleships, each three kilometers long, are located in a concealed area in near-Earth orbit.

He stared at those lines of numbers for a long time. In just a few days, relying on the almost cheating "manufacturing" ability of the Grey Wolf template, he had put a fleet capable of crushing any conventional military force on the table.

It did not alert any country's radar network, nor did it alert any reconnaissance satellites.

Zhu Dijun suddenly smiled, but there was no warmth in his smile.

He had made the mistake of being "merciful" in the past. Now he no longer dwells on it. The bones of the Chinese ancestors had been broken for four hundred years, and the latest discovered historical relics were about to be destroyed. He had no intention of continuing to talk about restraint and mercy.

"If there is no way to revive China."

Judy Jun spoke softly to the porthole, as if speaking to herself, or perhaps to some unseen adversary.

"Then let the earth burn! It's better for both sides to lose than for the barbarians to win."

No one answered him from inside the cabin. Princess 50's mecha was still on duty at the archaeological site, while Princess 36 remained in the studio to handle the aftermath. Only the cold light from the tablet screen reflected on his face.

The helicopter began its descent, and the emergency lights outside the porthole grew closer, revealing a dense mass of dark figures within the cordon—traces left from the repelling of the third wave of enemy attacks.

The regular army arrived at top speed, and in order to avoid being discovered by subsequent lurking personnel, they had no choice but to stop, erase all traces, and retreat.

The tablet vibrated again. This time it was a voice call, and 50姬's voice had a very rare pause.

"Master. The reverse tracking of the funds is complete. The final destination... is not an academic institution."

The signal was stuck here, as if it had been cut off in the middle. Zhu Dijun stared at the tablet, his finger pressing the reconnect icon.

The signal skipped twice before reconnecting. Princess 50's voice came back, a mechanical tone mixed with a slight electrical buzzing.

"Master, the signal was cut off once at the physical layer. The other party has placed jamming sources around the site, and the power is not small. Our people have located the transmission point, which is a tin shed disguised as a weather observation station."

"Shoot them! Capture them alive if possible. If that's not possible, don't destroy their heads."

Zhu Dijun gave a very brief explanation.

2 minute later.

"Resolved. Two people have been captured, and their identities are being verified. Master, there's one more thing—the financial chain ultimately points to an overseas cultural foundation registered in the Cayman Islands, and there are three familiar surnames on the board of directors."

Zhu Dijun's eyebrows twitched.

Which three?

"It cannot be confirmed at this time whether it is the person in question, but the surname corresponds to several prominent surnames from the previous dynasty—Xu, Pu, Li, and Shi."

He didn't reply. The Xu, Pu, and Li families appeared with an absurdly high frequency in the account books of the Longqing and Wanli periods he had previously examined. These Jiangnan gentry, salt merchants, and maritime trading families had thrived for centuries, even through dynastic changes, thanks to their ability to adapt to changing circumstances. He suddenly recalled a statement he had made during a lecture—the root of the Ming Dynasty's problems was never any single incompetent ruler, but rather the legacy passed down through generations of these people over hundreds of years.

The vibrations from the helicopter landing came up from under the seat. The cabin door opened, and a cold draft rushed in, carrying the smell of dirt and disinfectant.

Zhu Dijun jumped off the cabin, his feet landing on the makeshift steel walkway. Dozens of meters ahead, the searchlights of the archaeological site illuminated the night sky, and many people stood shadowy within the cordon: technicians in protective suits, security personnel carrying guns, and several mercenaries with their hands tied behind their backs, forced to kneel on the ground.

A middle-aged man in a dark coat quickly approached; it was Lao Zhou, the liaison officer from the National Security Bureau in charge of this operation.

"Mr. Zhu."

Old Zhou's voice was very low.

"We repelled all three attacks on site, but we caught one of the moles, and he refused to talk no matter what. In academia, more names were implicated than we expected."

"How many?"

"Enough to make a list, and half of the people on the list are still on television telling history to audiences."

Judy didn't laugh. He walked to the edge of the cordon and looked at the mercenary being held captive. The man had his head down, still bearing untreated gunshot wounds, but he didn't utter a single word.

"Leave the interrogation to the professionals."

Zhu Dijun turned to Lao Zhou,

"What I need are those jade tablets and bamboo slips. What's the current situation?"

"All data has been moved into a temporary warehouse on the third basement level, with constant temperature and humidity, double electronic locks, and armed guards. Seven copies of the data have been backed up and stored in seven different locations, each independent of the others."

Zhu Dijun nodded. This was a rule he had explained beforehand—things that aren't connected to the internet are safe; things connected to the internet will eventually be compromised.

He looked up at the night sky, which was so black it seemed bottomless. The three floating warships, eight hundred meters above the ground, were hidden behind the clouds, invisible to the naked eye and undetectable by radar. Three even larger vessels lay in orbit three thousand meters above the ground, waiting for his command.

"Old Zhou."

Zhu Dijun suddenly spoke,

"Tell the interrogation team not to waste time on gentle methods. These people dared to disturb the archaeological site, which means they know that once these items are made public, all their pretense of modesty will be exposed. Reasoning with them is a waste of time."

Old Zhou paused for a moment, then nodded:

"clear."

Judy turned and walked towards the warehouse without stopping. Behind her, the 50-hime's mecha followed silently, the sound of its metal joints turning particularly clear in the quiet night.

He took out his tablet, reopened the encrypted channel that had been cut off, and scrolled down line by line. Overseas foundations, directors' surnames, fund flows, nested shell companies—the chain was much longer than he had imagined, leading all the way to several place names he had only seen in historical records before.

Suddenly, a new message popped up on the tablet, sent by "Xihe".

[An abnormal expansion of online propaganda warfare has been detected. Overseas troll accounts are highly active, with the number of posts per unit time exceeding the normal threshold by seventeen times. Some accounts show signs of connection to the recently uncovered foundation's financial network.]

Zhu Dijun stopped and stared at the line of text.

"check"

He said,

"Investigate thoroughly, until they dare not use a second identity again."