Ming Dynasty: Gain one supernatural power every day

As soon as Zhang Fu finished speaking, Zhu Gaoxi stood up from his seat by the window.

He noticed it when he entered the post station; although it was said to be a medium-sized post station, it was actually quite dilapidated.

He originally wanted to come out and see what the post stations of the Ming Dynasty were like, but seeing was one thing, he didn't want to make himself suffer.

If he really had to live in such a place, wouldn't all those days of supernatural powers he'd acquired be for nothing? The Tiangong spaceship was comfortable, but it was too high up in the sky, too far from the people below, and he didn't want to become too detached from them.

After much thought, the easiest solution is to rebuild on the vacant land next door. After all, as a prince of the Ming Dynasty, I know the principle that the emperor is the boat and the people are the water. I must adhere to the mass line and insist on coming from the masses and going to the masses.

He walked up to Zhu Di and said casually, "Father, the conditions at this post station are indeed a bit poor. I just saw an open space nearby; I'll go and build a more comfortable place for us to rest."

Upon hearing this, Zhu Di nodded, thinking to himself that this was exactly what he had been waiting for. He really didn't want to spend the night in this musty-smelling room.

Zhu Gaoxi called over Zhu Gaoxu and several accompanying officers, and they left the main hall of the post station and came to an open space on the edge of the camp.

This open space was originally intended by the engineers to store grain and fodder. It was flat and quite large, which was just right.

The soldiers who were setting up tents nearby stopped what they were doing and craned their necks to look over when they saw Prince Rui leading his entourage.

Zhu Gaoxi stood in the center of the open space, looked around, and then raised his right hand.

The golden light of divine craftsmanship spread out in his palm, surging forth and covering the entire open space. Under the watchful eyes of thousands of soldiers and accompanying officials, a brand-new building rose from the ground.

It wasn't built gradually; it appeared almost out of thin air.

First, the foundation was laid out silently, with whole slabs of bluestone automatically splicing together, the gaps fitting perfectly. Then came the pillars, each a piece of sandalwood rising from the ground, gleaming with a deep luster in the twilight. Next came the beams, eaves, and tiles, each appearing out of thin air and assembling automatically, as if an invisible hand were building a giant block structure in the void.

In the short time it takes to drink a cup of tea, a brand-new post station was erected on the open space.

The main building is a two-story pavilion with green tiles and flying eaves, carved beams and painted rafters. There is also a small artificial hill and a few clumps of green bamboo in front of the gate. The stone path in the courtyard is as smooth as a mirror.

Although this post station cannot compare to the grandeur of Prince Rui's mansion, in this desolate place of Caishiji, it is practically a small imperial palace.

What's even more amazing is that the golden light did not dissipate, but continued to extend to both sides, and a separate kitchen and a side courtyard for the officials to rest were built next to the post station.

The soldiers in the entire camp were stunned.

"Ouch, that hurts!" A young soldier who was setting up a tent saw this scene and his mouth dropped open. He accidentally dropped the hammer in his hand and hit the back of his foot before he realized the pain.

An older soldier nearby was much calmer. He bent down to pick up the hammer for him and smacked him on the back of the head: "What are you looking at? It's not like you just found out that His Highness Prince Rui is a disciple of the Dao Ancestor. You've seen ants turn into tigers before, so what's the big deal about a house appearing out of thin air?"

The veteran's demeanor and tone of voice clearly indicate that he used to serve under the King of Han.

Zhu Gaoxu stood beside him, arms crossed, looking at the brand-new post station that had appeared out of nowhere: "Fourth brother, your second brother is really lucky again. I never thought that I could stay in such a nice place while on a campaign."

Zhu Gaoxi smiled and turned to instruct his officials to prepare the rooms in the post station.

Guided by several postmen, Ma Yicheng carefully entered the brand-new post station, carrying quilts and sheets. As he looked inside at the furnishings, he kept muttering, "Divine skill, divine skill."

Zhu Gaoxi then raised his hand and built an extremely long wooden table in the open space in front of the post station. The tabletop was as smooth as a mirror and was large enough for dozens of people to eat at the same time. After the military rations were distributed, the subordinates could also eat on it. After the camp was set up, it could be chopped up and used as firewood, killing three birds with one stone.

As soon as the food service started, the table was piled high with supplies. Compressed biscuits were neatly stacked into a small mountain, the packaging boxes of self-heating rice gleamed faintly in the twilight, bundles of dried meat emitted a smoky aroma, and there were also dehydrated vegetables and seasoning sauces.

He then separately ordered a batch of chilled peach oolong tea and arranged them in several rows on the table.

"Hu Ying, Xu Jingchang," he called to his two accompanying officers. "Put these rations into the gourds and distribute them according to the number of men in each battalion. If you need more, come find me. There's some tea on the table; drink it first, and then distribute the rest to the soldiers in each battalion. Everyone will get a share."

Hu Ying and Xu Jingchang stepped forward, took out their respective spatial gourds, and began to systematically put the supplies on the table into their gourds one by one.

Their movements were skillful and efficient, clearly indicating that they were already very familiar with the process.

The two first served several cups of peach oolong tea to the key generals in the main hall, and then distributed a cup to each soldier in each battalion.

As the sweet aroma of peach oolong tea filled the entire camp, the soldiers held their tea and exclaimed in admiration.

Meanwhile, the news spread like wildfire from Yingtian Prefecture in less than half a day after the army set out, though it had not yet reached its destination.

Ever since Prince Rui, Zhu Gaoxi, first flew on a sword in Yingtian Prefecture, this ancient capital has never been without the eyes and ears of spies from various countries.

Korea, Japan, Annam, Champa, Siam, Oirat, Tatars—any country that had border affairs or tributary relations with the Ming Dynasty had planted spies in Nanjing.

Some of them disguised themselves as merchants and rented shops along the Qinhuai River, some pretended to be wandering monks and stayed at Jiming Temple, and some lingered around the Huitongguan for many years, using the welcoming and sending off of envoys as a cover, but actually doing intelligence gathering.

Among them, the remnants of the Mongols and Korea had the most spies. The Tatars and Oirats were the most sensitive to the military movements of the Ming Dynasty, and most of the hidden agents in Nanjing were their people.

Although Joseon was nominally the most loyal vassal state of the Ming Dynasty, the Joseon Dynasty never dared to take the movements of the Central Plains lightly.

The intelligence these spies usually send back is nothing more than the same old stuff, but starting a few days ago, the quality of this intelligence began to increase at a visible rate.

First, it was said that Prince Rui of the Ming Dynasty flew on a sword in the palace, which was seen by all the civil and military officials. Then it was said that Prince Rui rode a golden dragon and toured the sky above Yingtian Prefecture. This was followed by the Book of Life and Death of the King of Hell, rejuvenation, and riding the clouds. In short, each story was more outrageous than the last.

When intelligence chiefs from various countries were compiling information, they began to suspect that their subordinates might have been turned by the Embroidered Uniform Guard and were conspiring to write fantasy novels.