Daming: Brother, there is no future for monks, let's rebel

Zhu Han stopped in front of the herb field and glanced around.

He glanced around, carefully noticing the subtle changes in the air. The ground was still damp, the scent of soil mingling with a faint fragrance of grass and trees, creating a somewhat tranquil atmosphere.

But it is precisely this silence that makes one most alert. He pointed to a branch of a tree beside him, signaling the boy to investigate first.

"Be careful, don't miss any corner."

The boy responded and left, his eyes flashing with a sharp light unlike his usual one, and his steps were more cautious than usual.

He knew that Zhu Han was not only a prince in the palace, but also a person with great insight, whose ability to perceive problems far exceeded that of ordinary people.

They had spent several months on the mountain, and Zhu Han had become intimately familiar with almost every inch of the area. With a single glance, he could discern every detail of his surroundings.

A while later, the boy returned with a serious expression: "Your Highness, there is indeed something strange about the shed behind the mountain. I went to check it out, and the soil has been disturbed. Moreover, the vegetation in some places doesn't look like it grew naturally."

Zhu Han nodded, his expression unchanged: "Lead the way."

The two walked up the mountain path and encountered several herbalists along the way. Their eyes darted around, but they all bowed their heads respectfully, not daring to look the prince in the eye.

Zhu Han knew in his heart that these people probably all had ulterior motives.

Upon seeing them, he didn't stop, but simply nodded and continued on his way.

Finally, Zhu Han stopped at the edge of the shed.

The scene before him made him frown slightly. There were several newly dug pits on the ground, which did not appear to be completely filled in, and a faint earthy smell filled the air.

He crouched down quietly and carefully examined the unusual marks.

Seeing this, the boy carefully took out the small knife he always carried and began to clear the dirt from the pit.

A moment later, he froze, his eyes filled with astonishment: "Your Highness, what...what is this?"

Zhu Han raised an eyebrow, his gaze sharp as a knife. He immediately reached out to help him away and looked down to examine him.

What was exposed in the pit was a broken pottery jar. Although its exterior was mottled, it was still possible to tell that it had been buried by someone for a long time.

His fingers gently touched the edge of the pottery jar, feeling a slight chill.

“This is no ordinary pottery jar,” Zhu Han said in a deep voice. “Look closely, the seal on the jar’s mouth is very thick, clearly indicating that it was sealed by someone. Go and dig it out and take it back.”

The boy nodded quickly and began to carefully dig out the pottery jar.

Just then, a mountain breeze blew, and the nearby woods suddenly made a slight rustling sound.

Zhu Han immediately stood up, his gaze sharpening: "Someone is approaching."

"Is it a thief?" the boy asked.

Zhu Han shook his head: "No, if they were thieves, they wouldn't be so conspicuous. It's someone else."

No sooner had he finished speaking than several hurried footsteps suddenly came from the end of the mountain path.

Several young men dressed in ordinary farm clothes emerged from the bushes. One of them bowed his head and quickly approached Zhu Han: "Your Highness, there's some commotion over on the other side of the mountain. We suspect someone is collecting these medicinal herbs, possibly related to poison smuggling."

Zhu Han glanced at the group of people without showing any emotion. They looked nervous, but there was nothing suspicious about them.

He nodded slowly: "Come with me."

The group quickly followed and continued along the mountain path.

Zhu Han secretly pondered to himself that the problem here was clearly far more complex than he had imagined.

As they ventured deeper into the mountains, the medicinal herbs planted by the herbalists became increasingly sparse, replaced by some unidentified plants.

There was a faint, pungent odor in the air that made people uneasy.

"Stop," Zhu Han suddenly whispered.

The group quickly stopped and waited for Zhu Han's instructions.

His sharp gaze swept across his surroundings, finally settling on a shadowy spot.

"there."

His voice was deep and powerful, and the young men immediately followed his directions.

Gradually, a dilapidated shed came into view. The door was locked, but there were no signs of any security measures around it.

Zhu Han stepped forward and gently touched the shed door, which immediately made a creaking sound.

He slowly pushed open the door, and the scene before him made him pause for a moment.

The shed was piled with a large amount of herbs, some in simple packaging, while others were well-sealed.

What's even more alarming is that behind one of the piles of herbs, there were several sealed wooden boxes with some barely legible symbols engraved on them.

Zhu Han's expression changed slightly, and he immediately ordered, "Take them all down."

As soon as he finished speaking, several young men who were with him stepped forward and carried out the herbs and wooden boxes one by one, quickly taking them back outside the shed.

However, at that moment, Zhu Han's gaze swept across the corner and suddenly stopped.

He looked down at the ground and sensed an unusual aura.

He crouched down slightly, gently ran his fingers across the ground, and finally found a few tattered pieces of paper in a corner.

"This is..." he murmured to himself, reaching out to pick up the paper.

Upon closer inspection, the words "Wan Yao Tang" were clearly written on the paper.

Zhu Han's heart sank. He was familiar with the name; it belonged to the largest pharmacy in the city.

"Let's go." He suddenly turned around and said to the boy beside him, "Go to 'Wan Yao Tang' immediately. This time we may have grasped a bigger clue."

The next morning, Zhu Han was already standing in front of the "Wan Yao Tang" (Ten Thousand Medicines Hall).

Sunlight streamed down the street, illuminating the surrounding houses and stalls, yet there always seemed to be an uneasy atmosphere in his gaze.

Although the city is large, it is not bustling. Pedestrians are scattered on the streets, and occasionally a few vendors shout out their wares, but this does not conceal the underlying silence.

Zhu Han stopped in his tracks, his finger lightly tracing the plaque of "Wan Yao Tang" (Ten Thousand Medicines Hall), a cold glint flashing in his eyes.

He didn't rush in, but stood outside the door, quietly observing his surroundings.

The atmosphere was different today; the area in front of the pharmacy was unusually quiet, and even the usual stalls selling medicinal herbs were nowhere to be seen.

"Your Highness, the pharmacy appears to be in no abnormality."

The boy spoke in a low voice, his eyes scanning the surroundings just like Zhu Han's.

Zhu Han did not respond immediately. Through the half-open door, he could vaguely see that the room was quiet.

The room was quiet and deserted, devoid of the usual clamor of merchants haggling over prices.

That desolation felt eerie.

"Go in," Zhu Han said softly, with an undeniable air of authority.

The boy nodded, accepted the order, and stepped forward to open the door. Inside the pharmacy, the medicinal herbs were still neatly arranged, with all kinds of herbs neatly placed on the shelves, emitting a faint medicinal fragrance.

The atmosphere inside the shop was much quieter than outside, with only a few customers dressed in ordinary clothes rummaging through medicinal herbs in a corner.

"Boss." Zhu Han spoke in a deep voice, his voice low but clear, like a heavy stone falling into a pool, splashing up ripples.

"Your Highness." The shop owner immediately stood up, his face showing some surprise, but he quickly regained his composure. "I was unaware of Your Highness's presence and apologize for not greeting you properly."

"It's alright." Zhu Han glanced at him, his eyes still sharp. "I'm just here to ask you some questions."

The shopkeeper paused for a moment, then lowered his head slightly, his expression becoming even more respectful: "If Your Highness has any questions, please feel free to ask."

"Have there been any unusual transactions of medicinal herbs coming in or out of your pharmacy recently?" Zhu Han asked, his eyes sharp as he stared directly at the shop owner.

The boss was clearly taken aback for a moment, then his brows furrowed slightly, and his expression became somewhat unnatural: "The unusual thing Your Highness mentioned, is it...?"

"For example, large-volume medicinal materials entering and leaving the country, or transactions that you find unusual."

Zhu Han's tone was calm, but the pressure he exuded was like a mountain pressing down on his boss's shoulders.

The boss's expression instantly became even more serious. He lowered his head and remained silent for a moment, seemingly pondering whether he should speak.

Finally, he said softly, "Your Highness, if you are referring to something like poison smuggling, I can only tell you that my shop does not engage in such transactions. What I sell are just ordinary herbs."

He paused for a moment, then said, "If Your Highness suspects that someone is doing something through me, I have no way of knowing."

"Is that so?" Zhu Han sneered, his voice carrying a hint of barely perceptible sarcasm. "Look, the herbs at 'Wan Yao Tang' are really quite ordinary."

The boss's expression changed slightly, and he wanted to say something in his defense, but Zhu Han had already scanned his eyes and seemed to see through everything.

"I don't want you to say too much."

Zhu Han paused, then added, "But since you say you don't know, then I do have something to tell you."

The boss's face gradually darkened: "Your Highness, please speak."

Zhu Han smiled slightly, then suddenly took out the piece of paper he had found yesterday from his sleeve, slowly unfolded it, and the words on the paper were clearly visible—"Wan Yao Tang".

He gently placed it on the counter, his gaze still fixed on the owner: "What do you think this means?"

The shopkeeper's face turned deathly pale, his hands trembled slightly, and his eyes were fixed on the paper, yet he dared not touch it. "Your Highness, you—"

"Did you already know that this name was secretly linked to poison smuggling?"

Zhu Han's voice was like a cold wind, filled with an undeniable pressure, "I don't want to force you to speak, but you'd better tell the truth. If you haven't done it, then answer boldly."

The boss shuddered, a flicker of panic crossing his eyes. But soon, he took a deep breath, as if making a decision, and finally spoke: "Your Highness, if you truly doubt me, I have nothing to say. If you don't believe me, you are welcome to inspect."

Zhu Han did not rush to respond, but nodded slightly and turned to signal the boy: "Go check."

The boy immediately accepted the order and stepped forward to inspect the inside of the pharmacy.

Zhu Han remained standing in the same spot, his gaze cold and stern, like an immovable mountain peak, giving people an invisible sense of oppression.

After a while, the boy finally came out from inside, carrying a small wooden box in his hand.

The wooden crate looked ordinary, but it was carefully sealed and had some unusual seals.

"Your Highness, there seems to be something wrong with this wooden box." The boy's voice carried a hint of hesitation.

Zhu Han nodded slightly and walked over to take the wooden box.

Upon closer inspection, he discovered some blurry marks on the seal of the wooden box, which appeared to be traces of deliberate concealment.

Zhu Han's heart tightened; he knew this was no accident.

"Boss," Zhu Han turned around, his eyes flashing coldly, "do you know what's inside these wooden crates?"

The boss's face grew paler and paler, and finally he couldn't help but kneel down: "Your Highness, I... I was just doing things for someone else. If you really want to hold me accountable, please spare my life."

Zhu Han looked at him calmly, a cold smile playing on his lips: "Who are you working for?"

The shopkeeper whispered, "They're from the paper shops and printing houses outside the West Gate. They've been using my pharmacy to transport these medicinal herbs. I only collect a commission; I don't know anything else."

"Paper shops and printing houses?"

Zhu Han's heart skipped a beat, and he immediately sensed the complexity of the situation. His gaze sharpened, and he suddenly realized something. "Fine, since that's the case, you can go die now."

The shopkeeper abruptly raised his head, his face filled with fear: "Your Highness, I—"

Zhu Han said coldly, "Hand over all the evidence, or you'll die even faster."

Zhu Han's fingertips were still covered in dust as he lifted the cover of the wooden box, releasing a faint medicinal fragrance mixed with a chilly aura.

Everyone held their breath.

There weren't many medicinal herbs inside, but they were clearly divided into two layers: the upper layer contained common fritillaria and angelica, while the lower layer was wrapped in fine cloth, faintly revealing a bluish-black color.

Zhu Han used the tip of his knife to pry open a corner of the cloth, and a wisp of pale green powder rose slightly, much like the gray sheen of the heartbreak grass after being exposed to the sun yesterday.

“Sure enough,” he said in a low voice, “this ‘Wan Yao Tang’ does more than just sell medicine.”

The boy squatted down and tested the powder with a silver needle; the silver immediately turned black.

The air around them was like a taut bowstring, and for a moment no one dared to utter a sound.

Zhu Han looked up, his gaze sweeping over the shopkeeper kneeling on the ground: "Do you know how many batches of medicine this jar of powder can spoil? How many lives can it take?"

The shopkeeper's lips trembled, but no sound came out.

"Bring me the ledgers," Zhu Han said.

The boy flipped over the counter and quickly took out a thick book. The cover was dusty, but the pages were not old.

Zhu Han casually flipped through the book, his gaze sweeping over each line, his finger lightly tracing the familiar characters – “Yongtong Money Shop Account No. 7”.

“Excellent.” He sneered.

He pushed the ledger in front of the shopkeeper: "If you really don't know, then show me who sent these accounts."

The shopkeeper's forehead was covered in sweat, and he pointed tremblingly to a line on the last page: "It's...it's Sun Waitang's assistant. He said he needs to borrow it briefly to make medicine samples, and our shop dared not refuse..."

Zhu Han stared at him: "The one surnamed Sun? Sun Yantong?"

"No... he's Sun Yantong's cousin—Sun Wensheng."

The boy interjected, "Your Highness, Sun Waitang has been frequently visiting the East Market lately and has been doing a lot of business with the paper shop owner outside the West Gate."

Zhu Han remained silent for a moment, then closed the ledger and tapped the bamboo slip in his sleeve lightly: "Go and investigate Sun Wensheng. Before noon, take men to seal off 'Wan Yao Tang' and send the ledger to the printing house. Boy, you leave three people here to guard this place. I will go to the East Market in half an hour."

"twitter."

The East Market is usually bustling, but today it was unusually quiet.

The wind on the street carried a damp and cold feeling, making the signs rattle loudly.

Zhu Han changed into a blue robe and, accompanied by two attendants, quietly entered the printing shop. (End of Chapter)