Da Ming: The system granted me immortality; I clock in every day.

Li Changqing picked up a cup of tea in front of him, gently swirled it, and looked at the reflection on the tea surface.

"Then I will do some accounting for Chief Lin."

Li Changqing spoke at a measured pace, yet each word carried the weight of a thousand-pound boulder.

"A stone of the finest Lake silk, in the Suzhou and Hangzhou area, would only fetch thirty taels of silver. Chief Lin's fleet would transport it to Malacca and sell it to those foreigners. One stone of raw silk could be exchanged for a full two hundred taels of Portuguese silver coins."

"On this voyage, a single 500-ton Fujianese ship, fully loaded with raw silk and porcelain, after deducting the crew's wages and waterway losses, would have a net profit of at least 100,000 taels of silver."

"The Lin clan chief owns as many as twenty ocean-going ships that fly the Lin family's business flag."

Li Changqing held his teacup and looked calmly at Lin Yaozu.

"Two sea voyages a year. Chief Lin's annual treasury pockets no less than four million taels of silver. With such wealth that rivals that of a nation, Chief Lin told me, 'Is sea trading difficult?'"

Quiet.

The back room was deathly silent.

Lin Yaozu's smile froze instantly. He was struck dumb, his hand holding the wine glass trembled violently, and the wine spilled all over the floor.

Not only him, but the other clan leaders and Prefect Zheng present were all dumbfounded and breathless.

How is this possible?!

Smuggling accounts are the most closely guarded secrets of each clan, recorded in secret accounts using special codes.

This imperial envoy, who had been staying in the Hanlin Academy in the capital, not only knew their smuggling routes, but also reported their bottom price for goods, their huge profits from goods, and even the size of their fleet with perfect accuracy!

Such insightful observation is simply divine!

Song Yin sat to the side, his face expressionless, but the shock he felt was no less than that of the local gentry.

As the Minister of Revenue, he held the power of finance in the country.

They had certainly made rough estimates of the profits of maritime merchants, but they could never be this precise.

Who exactly is Li Changqing?

"Chief Lin, the tea has gone cold."

Li Changqing gently placed the teacup on the table, making a crisp clinking sound that startled everyone from their shock.

He stood up, hands behind his back, his posture as upright as a pine tree.

That imposing aura of authority, honed over a century of vicissitudes, was released without reservation.

"The imperial court established the Maritime Trade Office not to consult with you, but to set the rules."

Li Changqing's gaze swept over everyone present, his eyes revealing an undisguised chilling intent.

"No matter how strong the winds and waves at sea are, they are no match for the cannons of the Ming Dynasty's navy. If you want to make money in these four seas, you must pay taxes according to the court's regulations."

"The maritime trade tax is 20%, not a penny less. Pay the tax, and the navy's warships will escort you; don't pay..."

Li Changqing walked up to Lin Yaozu, leaned slightly forward, and spoke in a deep voice like a death knell from the underworld.

"I wouldn't mind building another mound of skulls outside this city of Citong. If Chief Lin thinks your clan's militia can withstand the muskets of the Divine Machine Battalion, feel free to give it a try."

Cold sweat streamed down Lin Yaozu's forehead like a waterfall.

This powerful business tycoon in southern Fujian felt that the young official in the green robe before him was ten times more terrifying than the legendary, bloodthirsty Grand Tutor Pei.

He fell to his knees with a thud, his knees hitting the blue bricks hard.

"We, your humble servants...we, your humble servants obey! We will certainly devote all our wealth to supporting the establishment of the Maritime Trade Office by the Imperial Court! We will pay taxes according to regulations, without any disloyalty!"

Seeing that even their leader had knelt down, the other clan leaders dared not stand up for themselves any longer.

They all left their seats, knelt on the ground, and kowtowed repeatedly.

Prefect Zheng was so frightened that his face turned ashen, and he repeatedly begged for forgiveness.

Song Yin looked at the officials and gentry kneeling in the hall, and then at Li Changqing, who stood in the center of the hall with the same nonchalant and lazy expression.

He finally understood why the Emperor had made an exception and selected such an unknown Hanlin compiler to be the Imperial Envoy.

This is hardly a bookworm who can only recite the Four Books and Five Classics.

It is clearly a peerless demonic sword that is hidden deep and sure to draw blood when drawn!

Li Changqing looked at the people kneeling on the ground and a faint smile appeared on his lips.

This is nothing.

The filth on the Ming Dynasty's coast has accumulated for too long. If this rotten flesh is not scraped away with heavy hands, the giant ships that have just set sail will sooner or later be hollowed out from the inside by these termites.

"Alright, all of you, get up. I think we should end this welcoming banquet here."

Li Changqing dusted off his sleeves, turned around, and walked out of the hall.

"Lord Song, we still need to check the account books and coastal defense deployment maps of Quanzhou in the prefectural government's warehouse tonight."

"I'm afraid I won't be able to have any free time tonight."

Song Yin abruptly stood up, his spirits lifted: "Lord Li is right, I will go with you immediately!"

The two walked out of the back hall side by side, leaving behind a room full of local gentry who were trembling with fear.

The storeroom of the Quanzhou Prefectural Government was built in a shady corner of the backyard.

The Minnan region is inherently humid, and this warehouse has its doors and windows tightly closed year-round. Pushing open the heavy iron-clad wooden door reveals...

A strong smell of camphor mixed with the musty, sour smell of old paper hit you, making you want to vomit.

A few dim, yellowish lamps hung from the beams, casting shadowy shadows over the large warehouse.

All around were huge wooden frames that reached the roof beams, piled high with fish-scale illustrations and tax ledgers from previous years, covered in thick dust.

Minister of Revenue Song Yin took off his stuffy scarlet official robes and wore only a snow-white silk undergarment with the cuffs rolled up high.

He stood before a large table, his hands moving rapidly across a sandalwood abacus.

Sweat dripped down his forehead and onto the yellowed ledger in front of him, spreading out as a faint ink stain.

On the other side of the table, Li Changqing remained as nonchalant as ever.

Unlike Song Yin, he didn't act as if facing a formidable enemy. He simply pulled up a rickety armchair and leaned back comfortably.

He was holding a cup of coarse tea that had long since gone cold.

His gaze swept casually over the stacks of "innocent" account books that Prefect Zheng Hua had brought over.

"Lord Song, how is the settlement of accounts in Quanzhou going?"

Li Changqing blew on a tea stalk floating on the tea surface, his voice sounding particularly cold and desolate in the secluded storeroom.

Song Yin stopped turning the abacus beads in his hand and let out a long breath.

His brows were furrowed, and his eyes revealed an undisguised weariness and resentment.

"It's a complete mess, a total scramble!"

Song Yin grabbed an account book and slammed it heavily onto the table, kicking up a cloud of dust.

"Lord Li, look at this tax collection record from the twelfth year of the Hongzhi reign. It records that more than thirty foreign ships entered Quanzhou Port that year, and the tax collected was only a mere four thousand taels of silver."

"But if you turn to the appendix and look at the list of expenses, you'll find that just to calculate those four thousand taels of silver, the yamen's expenditures on writing materials, paper, inkstones, fire expenses, and travel expenses amounted to a staggering six thousand taels!"

Song Yin sneered repeatedly, his eyes filled with disdain.

"Four thousand taels of tax were collected, but six thousand taels were spent on capital!"

"These local officials' methods of falsifying accounts are so crude and utterly ridiculous; they're clearly trying to fool a three-year-old!"