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After five years of prosperity, winter began to come, and life became difficult for the Khitans.

It's not the kind of sadness that kills you instantly, but a sadness that slowly grinds you down, slowly agonizes you, making life worse than death.

It's like cutting flesh with a dull knife, one cut at a time, without drawing blood, yet the pain goes right to the bone.

At this moment, the Khitans truly felt the pain of economic and trade blockades.

However, the blockade was only a measure. The troops in the northern border region continued to harass the Khitan, with Gao Huaide being the first to take action.

In Liaoyang City, Gao Huaide stood in front of a map, his finger pointing to an area south of Huanglong Prefecture.

The locations of several Khitan tribes were marked there, which the scouts had spent three months figuring out.

“Right here.” Gao Huaide pointed to one of them. “This tribe is the farthest from Huanglong Prefecture. It will take at least two days for reinforcements to arrive. Let’s finish this quickly and run away.”

Lieutenant Gao Hu leaned over to take a look: "General, how many men should we send?"

"Three thousand," Gao Huaide said. "Too many people will cause too much trouble, too few will not be enough. Three thousand is just right, enough to fight and retreat."

"promise!"

Three days later, three thousand Longjie cavalry set off from Liaoyang and made their way north before the first snow fell.

The horses' hooves were wrapped in thick cloth, making only a slight rustling sound as they stepped on the snow.

The men held gags in their mouths, their swords remained sheathed, and all the flags were rolled up.

The group moved silently through the night, like a group of wandering ghosts.

After traveling for five days, bypassing all the Khitan scouts, they finally reached a tribe south of Huanglong Prefecture.

It was a medium-sized tribe with three or four hundred tents and herds of cattle and sheep.

The people in the tribe are busy preparing for winter, piling hay into stacks, herding cattle and sheep into pens, and burying frozen meat in the snow.

No one noticed that on the distant hills, pairs of eyes were watching them.

Long Jiejun did not make a fuss.

Gao Hu told the cavalry to dismount and rest, feed the horses beans, and then he leaned against a tree and took a nap.

It wasn't until late at night, when the moon had set and it was pitch black, that he stood up.

"Let's do it."

Three thousand cavalrymen mounted their horses and slowly approached the tribe.

By the time the Khitans discovered this, Zhou's cavalry had already stormed into the tents.

Flames soared into the sky, and shouts of battle filled the air.

Someone rushed out of the tent, and before they could even see what was happening, they were slashed down with a knife.

Someone tried to ride away on horseback, but was shot down by an arrow.

Some people touched a knife and tried to resist, but were chopped into mincemeat by the surrounding Zhou army.

Some people knelt on the ground and kowtowed, begging for mercy, but Zhou Jun did not kill them. He simply took away all the valuables, edible food, and rideable horses from the tents.

The cattle and sheep were driven out of the pen, the horses were led away, and the grain was loaded onto the horses' backs.

The tent was doused with kerosene and burned to ashes.

By daybreak, the tribe had vanished completely.

The tents were burned, the cattle and sheep were driven away, and the grain was gone.

Hundreds of corpses lay scattered on the snow, their blood staining the white snow black.

The remaining elderly, women, and children sat in the snow, unable to even cry.

Gao Hu reined in his horse and glanced back at the ruins.

"Walk."

Three thousand cavalrymen kicked up a cloud of snow dust and disappeared into the northern morning mist.

……

When the news reached the capital, Yelü Jing was so angry that he overturned the table.

"Three thousand men! Three thousand men dare to come to our doorstep? What are you all good for?"

No one dared to speak.

The generals lowered their heads, not daring to utter a sound.

The civil officials were also devastated, and the new emperor of the Great Zhou was even more insidious, seemingly particularly fond of bleeding the Khitans dry.

But that's not the worst part.

What's most infuriating is that these attacks don't happen once or twice, but rather every few days.

Sometimes it's in the east, sometimes in the west, and sometimes in the south.

Sometimes there are many people, sometimes there are few.

Sometimes they steal things, sometimes they kill people, and sometimes they do nothing but set a fire and run away.

Gao Hu divided his three thousand cavalry into several teams and took turns attacking.

Today one team goes east, tomorrow another team goes west, and the day after tomorrow another team goes north.

They fire and run, never lingering.

The Khitan cavalry gave chase, but could not catch up.

Those Zhou army cavalrymen were all seasoned veterans. Their horses were faster and they knew the roads better. They fought and ran away, and by the time the Zhou army chased after them, the Zhou cavalry had already run dozens of miles away.

They set up an ambush, but the ambush failed.

Zhou Jun's scouts were more alert than they had imagined. They would detour if they saw something amiss from afar, and would not go into the trap at all.

They sent out scouts, but they couldn't find anything.

Of the ten people sent out, eight never returned, and the two who did return couldn't explain why.

Over the course of winter, the Khitans were harassed dozens of times.

The number of cattle, sheep and horses lost was countless, and several thousand people died.

The bigger problem is that life has become unbearable.

The tribespeople dared not go out to graze their livestock, fearing an attack by the Zhou army.

If the cattle and sheep are not allowed to graze, they will starve to death.

Winter is tough enough as it is, and the fodder in the pen won't last long. If they don't graze their livestock now, they'll all starve to death by spring.

Some tribes, unable to hold on any longer, simply fled north with their families.

Run to a farther place, to a place where Zhou Jun can't catch up.

But the further north you go, the colder it gets, and the poorer you become.

The pastures are poor, the winters are longer, and even fewer cattle and sheep can survive.

Of those tribes that fled north, nine out of ten were gone by the following winter.

……

At the same time, the Great Zhou Dynasty tightened its blockade against the Khitan.

Not even a single sheep is allowed to cross the Shanhaiguan Pass.

All trade routes along the Liaodong border were cut off.

Anyone caught smuggling will face the death penalty.

Those merchants who had traded with the Khitans either changed professions, were arrested, or simply fled to the Great Zhou and never returned.

The Khitans were not very good at farming and relied entirely on herding and plundering for a living.

Now, not only can we not grab anything, we can't exchange anything, and we're being robbed ourselves. All we can do is endure it and hide in fear and anxiety.

As I kept trying to endure it, I couldn't take it anymore.

There wasn't enough iron, so the swords and arrows broke and couldn't be forged, the horseshoes fell off and couldn't be repaired, and the iron pots leaked and couldn't be fixed.

If there isn't enough salt, people will lack energy, and cattle and sheep won't grow strong without salt.

There wasn't enough tea, so the people on the grasslands relied on drinking tea to cut through the greasiness of the food. Without tea, they couldn't stand eating only meat.

There wasn't enough fabric, so the clothes were torn and there were no replacements, and the tent was ruined and there was no way to mend it.

In the spring of the sixth year of the prosperous era, people began to starve to death in the capital.

They weren't ordinary civilians, but rather the common soldiers.

They were starving and cold, and had to patrol every day to guard against attacks from Zhou's army.

I've endured the whole winter, but I can't take it anymore.

Some collapsed in the barracks, some on the city wall, and some on the patrol route.

Yelü Jing sat in the palace, listening to the cries and wails coming from outside, his face ashen. "Send someone to the Great Zhou to negotiate peace."

The messenger arrived again, and it was the same old acquaintance, Xiao Feng.

He knelt in the Chongyuan Hall, not daring to raise his head.

This time, Xiao Feng was older, thinner, and more haggard than before. "Your Majesty the Emperor of Great Zhou, our dynasty is willing to negotiate. The annual tribute... the matter of the annual tribute can be discussed."

Su Ning sat on the throne, looking at Xiao Feng, "Oh? It's really negotiable now?"

"Yes Yes."

Su Ning laughed, "The year before last, I asked you to discuss it, but you wouldn't. Last year, I asked you to discuss it, but you still wouldn't. This year, you can't hold on any longer, so you're here to discuss it?"

Xiao Feng knelt there, not daring to utter a single word.

Suning stood up and walked down the steps.

“Go back and tell Yelü Jing that the matter of tribute is no longer something to be discussed.”

Xiao Feng was stunned: "Then... what is the problem?"

"It's a matter of whether you listen or not," Su Ning said. "Whatever I say goes. If you're willing, sign it. If not, go back and wait."

Xiao Feng's face turned pale.

He looked up, as if to say something, but then swallowed his words back.

“Cease the land,” Su Ning said. “From Huanglong Prefecture southwards, all the land occupied by the Khitans, all the way to the Liaodong border, shall be ceded to the Great Zhou.”

"Indemnity. One hundred million taels of silver, to be paid in ten installments."

"Annual tribute. Three thousand warhorses, ten thousand cattle and sheep, and one thousand sable pelts were delivered to Youzhou every autumn."

"If any one of these three conditions is missing, then there's no point in discussing it."

Xiao Feng knelt there, trembling all over.

One hundred million taels of silver? That's how many years' income for the Khitan?
Ceding out the area south of Huanglongfu? That was the last piece of pasture the Khitan could graze on in Liaodong.

But Xiao Feng dared not utter a single word of dissent.

Xiao Feng kowtowed and ran away as fast as he could.

The military officers in the court burst into laughter.

Let him go crazy!

"Why didn't you do this sooner!"

Suning did not laugh.

He stood there, gazing at the gray sky outside the hall, and remained silent for a moment.

"Issue an imperial decree to tell Gao Huaide to stop. Stop the fighting."

Wei Renpu was taken aback: "Your Majesty, why? We're currently in the lead..."

"We're fighting to make the Khitans submit to us," Su Ning said. "They're almost there now, so we can't let them get desperate. Even a rabbit will bite when cornered, and the Khitans are capable of anything when they're cornered."

Wei Renpu seemed to be deep in thought.

“Let them catch their breath first,” Su Ning said, “and let them think about it. Do they want to live or die? Those who want to live will naturally come and sign. Those who want to die, we can fight them later.”

"Your Majesty is wise."

Gao Huaide was drinking in Liaoyang when he received the imperial decree.

After reading the military order, he put down his wine cup and said to his adjutant, "Let the brothers rest... We won't fight this winter."

Lieutenant Gao Hu asked with a puzzled look, "General, what about next year?"

Gao Huaide smiled and said, "Next year? We'll see how the Khitans choose next year. If they choose correctly, we won't fight. If they choose incorrectly, we'll continue fighting."

……

In the autumn of the sixth year of the prosperous reign, the Khitan envoys came again.

This time, it wasn't Xiao Feng who came; it was another, younger person named Yelü Xian.

He was Yelü Jing's nephew and was considered one of the more intelligent members of the Khitan nobility.

Yelü Xian knelt in the Chongyuan Hall, holding a covenant written in both Chinese and Khitan.

"Your Majesty the Emperor of Great Zhou, our dynasty is willing to accept all the conditions proposed by Your Majesty. Cession of territory, payment of indemnities, and annual tribute will all be as Your Majesty has stated."

Suning accepted the agreement and read it through.

Then he looked up at Yelü Xian and asked, "What's your name?"

"Your subject, Yelü Xian."

"Are you a prince of the Khitan?"

"Your Majesty, I am your nephew."

Su Ning nodded. "You're smarter than Xiao Feng."

Yelü Xian lowered his head, not daring to reply.

Su Ning picked up a pen, signed the alliance agreement, and affixed his imperial seal.

"Sign it."

Yelü Xian knelt on the ground and kowtowed three times, saying, "Thank you, Your Majesty the Emperor of Great Zhou."

After the envoy left, Wei Renpu asked with some concern, "Your Majesty, what if they change their minds?"

Suning shook his head. "No."

"why?"

“Because the cost of backing out is greater than the cost of not backing out,” Su Ning said. “If they sign now, they can still have a breath left. If they back out, I will march all the way to the capital and make sure they have no breath left.”

"More importantly, what we want is not for them to die, but for them to be unable to afford to live."

"Can't afford to live?"

"Yes. Tribute, indemnities, ceding territory—every single one of them is bleeding them dry. If it lasts a year, they'll be a little weaker. If it lasts ten years, they'll be completely unable to rise again."

"By then, even if they wanted to back out, they wouldn't have the strength."

Wei Renpu immediately understood.

"Your Majesty is wise."

……

After the Khitans yielded, Su Ning turned his attention to the southwest.

On the map, the land marked "Dali" resembles a piece of green jade, inlaid on the southwestern border of the Great Zhou Dynasty.

Cangshan Mountain and Erhai Lake, at the foot of Diancang Mountain, that land has been independent for more than 30 years.

When Duan Siping raised an army to establish his state, the Central Plains was still under the Later Jin Dynasty. Shi Jingtang ceded the Sixteen Prefectures of Yan and Yun to the Khitan and proclaimed himself the "Son Emperor".

At that time, the Central Plains were in complete chaos, so who could care about this small country on the southwestern border?
Now, the Great Zhou Dynasty has had three emperors, from Guo Wei to Guo Rong, and from Guo Rong to Su Ning. The Central Plains have long since changed.

But Dali remains the same Dali, content in its secluded corner, enjoying its own little world.

The mountains are high and the roads are treacherous, with miasma everywhere, making it easy to defend and difficult to attack.

Su Ning stood before the map, gazing at the land, and remained silent for a long time.

"Your Majesty," Wei Renpu said softly, "can we attack Dali now?"

Suning shook his head. "I won't play."

"Aren't you going to attack?" Wei Renpu didn't expect Suning to be so calm.

"The mountains are high and the roads are treacherous. It's easy to break in, but difficult to hold out. The Tang Dynasty fought for so many years and still couldn't conquer it. If we attack now, we might not gain any advantage. But not attacking doesn't mean we should ignore it."

"So Your Majesty means..."

"Keep them trapped."

In the spring of the fifth year of the prosperous reign, a new and stricter blockade order was issued from Bianliang.

All trade routes from Sichuan to Dali were cut off.

Those old trade routes that have been traveled for decades: Qingxi Pass Road, Shimen Road, Yaozhou Road...

Checkpoints were set up overnight.

The soldiers of the Great Zhou stood guard at the crossroads, swords drawn, arrows nocked, eyes glaring like copper bells. Only entry was permitted; exit was forbidden.

Merchants from Dali had all their goods confiscated and were all repatriated.

The merchants knelt on the ground, crying and begging, saying that their entire families depended on this business for survival.

The soldiers of the Great Zhou remained expressionless, uttering only one sentence: "The Great Zhou has ordered that anyone who disobeys will be executed."

Merchants from the Great Zhou? No.

Anyone who dares to sneak along the back path will be sentenced to death if caught.

The Imperial City Guards crouch in the mountains, their eyes sharper than an eagle's.

They knew all those long-neglected, narrow mountain paths and those hidden trails known only to hunters.

Some people, not believing in superstition, secretly carried a bag of tea and tried to cross the mountain, but they were blocked halfway there.

He was beheaded on the spot, and his body was hung by the roadside as a warning.

When the news reached Dali City, Duan Sushun was stunned.

Duan Sushun was the third emperor of Dali and the grandson of Duan Siping.

He had only been on the throne for a few years, and being young and arrogant, he thought he was the ruler of the country and feared nothing.

"Zhou Jun... isn't attacking us, he's just blocking the roads?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. All trade routes are blocked. Our people can't get out, and outsiders can't get in."

Duan Sushun frowned. "Let them seal it off! Anyway, Dali is self-sufficient, what's there to be afraid of?"

But Duan Sushun spoke too soon.

Dali claims to be self-sufficient, but there are some things it truly lacks.

salt.

The salt in Dali is all transported from Sichuan.

The amount of salt produced locally is simply not enough to eat.

The few salt wells within Dali produce pitifully little, not even enough for the palace, let alone the common people.

Zhou Jun blocked the road, and the salt supply was cut off.

In the first month, the price of salt tripled.

Originally, a pound of salt cost twenty coins, but now it costs sixty coins.

In the second month, it increased tenfold.

Two hundred coins a pound, ordinary people can no longer afford it.

In the third month, even if you had the money, you couldn't buy it anymore.

Any salt available on the market is snapped up as soon as it appears.

Some people keep several pounds of salt hidden in their homes, as if it were gold, locked in a box, and won't let anyone see it.

The people began to eat bland food.

One or two meals might be bearable, but after ten days or half a month, one would be too exhausted to work.

Farmers couldn't lift hoes, horse drivers couldn't wield whips, and even walking was unsteady.

Duan Sushun was frantic, "Send someone to Sichuan to beg them to sell salt!"

The messenger went, but was blocked outside the pass.

"The Great Zhou has decreed that not even a grain of salt is allowed to leave the pass."

The envoy knelt before the gate, kowtowing until his forehead bled: "Please, sell some! We'll pay ten times the price!"

The general guarding the pass shook his head: "It's not about money. The Great Zhou has decreed that anyone who lets out even a grain of salt will have their entire family executed. You may leave."

When the messenger returned, he knelt before the palace, not daring to raise his head.

Duan Sushun's face turned pale.

But salt isn't the worst part.

The most dangerous thing is tea.

People in Dali love to drink tea; from nobles to ordinary people, they can't live without it every day.

We drink tea when we wake up in the morning, after meals, when guests come, and even when we have nothing to do.

For them, life without tea is simply unimaginable.

However, Dali does not produce tea.

Those tea trees covering the mountains and plains are all wild, and their leaves are bitter and astringent, making them undrinkable.

Good tea all depends on being transported from Sichuan... Mengding tea, Emei tea, Qingcheng tea, each one is an indispensable treasure for the people of Dali.

With the tea route cut off, the tea stored in the palace will only last for three months.

Three months later, Duan Sushun had to drink plain water.

He held the bowl of plain water, tears welling up in his eyes.

"I...I have never tasted anything so awful in my life..."

But this is just the beginning.

The iron object broke.

All the ironware in Dali was transported from the Central Plains. The iron produced locally was brittle and soft, and the knives made from it would chip and break easily when cut.

The more the army uses its swords and spears, the duller they become, and the less usable they become.

A general came to complain, saying that if there were no new swords, the soldiers would have to fight with wooden sticks.

The medicinal herbs have run out.

Dali is plagued by miasma, making people prone to illness, and they rely entirely on medicinal herbs from the Central Plains to save their lives.

Aconitum carmichaelii, Aconitum carmichaelii, Coptis chinensis, and Angelica sinensis are all indispensable to the people of Dali.

Now that the medicinal herbs are gone, we can only tough it out when we're sick.

Those who survive are considered lucky; those who don't are buried in the mountains.

The cloth broke.

Dali does not produce silk or good cotton cloth.

The silks worn by nobles and the fine cotton fabrics worn by commoners were all transported from the Central Plains.

Now that we've run out of cloth, we can only wear rough linen, which makes us itchy all over.

The silk thread broke.

The women of those wealthy and powerful families, who were used to wearing fine silks and satins, were now only able to wear hemp cloth. They cried and wailed, insisting on going back to their parents' homes.

The days are getting harder and harder.

Duan Sushun sat in the palace, listening to the ministers complain, feeling utterly overwhelmed.

"Your Majesty, the people have no salt to eat, and their complaints are widespread..."

"Your Majesty, the army has no iron weapons; even the swords are dulled..."

"Your Majesty, there's no tea in the palace, and the ladies are making a fuss about going back to their maiden homes..."

"Enough!" Duan Sushun slammed her hand on the table. "What can I do? Don't I want salt to eat? Don't I want tea to drink? But Zhou's army is blocking my way, what can I do?"

The ministers knelt on the ground, none of them daring to speak.

Six years into the prosperous era, the blockade continues and is intensifying.

Life in Dali became even more difficult.

Some people, unable to hold on any longer, began to flee north.

They crossed mountains and valleys, smuggled themselves across the border, and came to the Great Zhou.

The Great Zhou had already made preparations.

Those who came were settled in the newly built village.

The village was built on flat ground, with houses, fields, and wells.

The land was distributed, with each family receiving several dozen acres; seeds were distributed, enough for two years of planting; and oxen were borrowed, which could be returned after use.

The officials told them to farm well and live a good life, and that the Great Zhou would not treat them unfairly.

Someone knelt on the ground and cried, "If I had known that the Great Zhou was so good, I would have come much sooner..."

More and more people are running.

Duan Sushun was anxious. "Secure the border at once! Don't let a single person escape!"

Can we hold it?
Those who want to run away cannot be stopped.

With such a long border and such deep mountains, it's too easy for someone to hide.

If there are patrols during the day, then they travel at night; if there are checkpoints on the main roads, they take the side roads; if it's easy to get caught if you run alone, then the whole family runs together to look after each other.

Even if we catch them, what then?
Kill them? They were our own people.

Let them go? They'll just run away again.

Lock them up? Where are there so many prison cells?
Duan Sushun sat in the palace, listening to the increasingly chaotic noise outside, her hair falling out in clumps.

He looked at himself in the bronze mirror and realized that although he was only in his early thirties, he looked like he was fifty years old.

……

After seven years of prosperity, Dali, which had been under lockdown, could no longer hold on.

Inside the palace, Duan Sushun drank plain water and ate unsalted rice, her face turning green.

His face wasn't a metaphor; it was genuinely green...

Long-term salt deficiency, coupled with malnutrition, caused the person to have a sickly bluish complexion.

In the imperial court, the ministers were arguing amongst themselves.

"Peace talks are a must!"

"No negotiations! Negotiations are tantamount to admitting defeat!"

"What can we do if we don't admit defeat? If we hold on for another year, everyone will run away!"

"Even if everyone runs away, we can't admit defeat! We can't let our ancestors' legacy be ruined in our hands!"

"The legacy of our ancestors? The legacy of our ancestors is meant to keep us alive, not to kill us!"

Duan Sushun was so frustrated by their argument that her head was about to explode.

"enough!"

He stood up and said, "Send someone to Bianliang for peace talks."

"promise."

The envoy traveled north for two months and finally arrived in Bianliang.

The envoy knelt in the Chongyuan Hall, not daring to raise his head.

Along the way, the envoy heard too many legends about the Great Zhou Dynasty...

How did that young emperor recover Yan and Yun, how did he defeat the Khitan, how did he annihilate the Dingnan Army, and how did he bring a good life to the people of the world?

Now the envoy has seen this prosperous capital city with his own eyes, seen those magnificent palaces, seen those imposing military generals, and seen that young man sitting on the throne.

"Your Majesty the Emperor of Great Zhou, our dynasty wishes to submit to Great Zhou. We only ask... we only ask to have some salt to eat."

The military officers in the hall burst into laughter.

"Salt? Just for salt?"

"Why didn't you do this sooner!"

"After staying on the mountain for three years, you finally decided to come down?"

Suning raised his hand to stop laughing.

He looked at the envoy kneeling before the palace and remained silent for a moment.

The messenger knelt on the ground, thin as a skeleton, his clothes tattered, and his face a bluish-gray from long-term malnutrition.

The messenger's eyes held fear, humility, and a glimmer of hope.

Su Ning recalled that three years ago, when Dali first sent an envoy, that person was dressed in gorgeous clothes, held his head high, and spoke with a strong voice.

This person looks almost like a beggar now.

“Go back and tell Duan Sushun,” Su Ning said, “You can submit, but the conditions have changed.”

The messenger raised his head, a flicker of fear in his eyes.

"The Dali Kingdom will be renamed Dali Prefecture, and the Duan family members will reside in Youzhou. Those who are willing will sign the surrender document in three days. Those who are unwilling will remain under their fiefdom."

The envoy was stunned. "Enter...enter Youzhou to reside?"

“Yes,” Su Ning said. “The entire Duan family will be moved to Youzhou. I will provide them with houses and salaries so they can live a good life. As for Dali, I will send officials to take over.”

The messenger's face turned pale.

He knew what this meant—the Dali Kingdom was gone, and the Duan family's rule was over.

The Duan family members went from being emperors to wealthy men in Bianliang City. To put it nicely, they were being given a life of luxury; to put it bluntly, they were being placed under house arrest.

But what could he say?
Say you don't want to? Keep the lockdown going?

If the lockdown continues, Dali will truly be gone.

Everyone has fled, and the people have starved to death. What use is the name of the country?

The messenger kowtowed and ran away in a panic.

……

Duan Sushun was drinking his plain water when he received the news.

After reading the messenger's report, he remained silent for a long time.

Outside the hall, the sun was shining brightly.

The snow on Diancang Mountain glittered in the sunlight, and the waters of Erhai Lake shimmered.

He grew up watching these landscapes and thought he would see them for the rest of his life.

Now, we can't watch it anymore.

"...Sign it."

……

In the autumn of the seventh year of the prosperous era, the Dali Kingdom was abolished.

Dali Prefecture was officially incorporated into the territory of the Great Zhou Dynasty.

Duan Sushun took her whole family and set off from Dali City, heading north.

People along the way stood by the roadside watching the spectacle, pointing and commenting.

"That was the emperor of Dali?"

"What emperor? He's just like us now, a citizen of the Great Zhou."

"I heard that His Majesty is going to live in Youzhou. It's possible that His Majesty is going to move the capital to Youzhou."

"Really? Isn't Bianliang more prosperous?"

"It is said that the emperor guards the country's gates and the monarch dies for the state."

Duan Sushun sat in the carriage, listening to the discussions outside without saying a word.

He recalled what his grandfather, Duan Siping, said when he raised an army: "From now on, Dali will be an independent country and will never again be bullied by the Central Plains."

It's only been a little over thirty years.

He watched the Cangshan Mountains and Erhai Lake gradually recede into the distance outside the car window and sighed softly.

In Bianliang City, Su Ning stood in front of the map, looking at the newly painted red land.

The southwest has finally been pacified.

Wei Renpu stood to the side and said softly, "Your Majesty, once Dali is taken over, the world will truly be unified."

Suning nodded.

"Unification is just the beginning. Next, we need to make sure they can live their lives properly."

He turned around and walked back to the imperial desk.

"Issue an imperial decree to reduce taxes in Dali Prefecture for three years. Open the granaries to distribute grain and provide relief to the orphans and widows. Send imperial physicians to treat the sick. Send artisans to teach them blacksmithing, weaving, and salt production."

“Tell the people of Dali that from now on, they are people of the Great Zhou. The Great Zhou will not treat them unfairly.”

Grand Secretary Wei Renpu wrote it all down.

...(End of this chapter)