Take control of Wei Zhongxian at the start and confiscate 100 million from him!

Chapter 186 Leaving the Capital
End of Yin hour.

The sky is like a piece of blue silk splattered with ink that hasn't dried yet, thick and deep.

Only the distant eastern horizon was barely torn open by a faint light from who-knows-where, a thin, pale gash, like the last breath of a dying person.

The capital city is still asleep.

This magnificent city is huddled in the deepest darkness before dawn, breathing evenly and slowly.

A heavy creak, so loud it seemed capable of crushing bones, shattered the tranquility.

The heavy gate at Zhengyang Gate was being hoisted upwards inch by inch with great difficulty by a winch driven by dozens of strongmen.

The sound carried the friction of iron against stone, the groans of aged rust, and a resolute determination to completely awaken this slumbering city.

The morning mist, mixed with the unique and complex atmosphere of the capital, spread like a thin veil over the spacious Imperial Street, where horses could gallop freely.

But today, there's an extra scent in this fog.

A chilling, almost solidified smell of rust filled the air.

There were no shouts of "Clear the road!" from the emperor, no ceremonial procession with colorful flags waving, and no grand scene of civil and military officials prostrating themselves on the ground shouting "Long live the emperor!"

Nothing at all.

There was only a chilling atmosphere, and an army standing silently within that atmosphere like a cold iron forest growing out of hell.

Eight hundred Xuanjia Imperial Guards.

Each nail plate seemed to be telling its owner's unimaginable ferocity in an extremely restrained way.

They were the emperor's last line of defense, the killing blades that walked in the shadow of imperial power.

At this moment, the eight hundred silent sculptures seemed to have stopped breathing. Every glance from the corner of their eyes was like the most precise sight, firmly locking onto the huge carriage in the center of the procession, the dragon carriage, whose dragon patterns were only outlined in dark gold thread at the corners.

Following closely behind were a thousand Imperial Guards in flying fish robes.

These thousand people formed a huge, invisible net, their gazes intersecting, covering every possible blind spot around them.

From the soldiers on the city wall, their palms sweating with tension, to the watchmen peeking out from behind street corners, thinking they'd stumbled upon some important military secret, none could escape their hawk-like scrutiny.

They are like hunting knives about to be drawn, responsible for sniffing out, tracking, and delivering the most fatal blow at the most opportune moment.

At the end of the line were a thousand elite soldiers carefully selected from the Beijing garrison.

They lacked the suffocating oppressiveness of the Imperial Guards, and the sinister aura of the Embroidered Uniform Guards.

They were more like a piece of raw iron that had been forged through countless hammer blows, their ranks so orderly that they looked as if they had been cut with a knife.

This team of nearly three thousand people constitutes a strange and terrifying balance.

The entire procession did not exude the dignified grandeur of an imperial procession, but rather the meticulously planned scheme that had been orchestrated over countless days and nights…

Hunting.

On one side of the procession, some officials who had rushed over after receiving the news, ostensibly to "respectfully see off the emperor," gathered in twos and threes, whispering among themselves.

Their ornate official robes, embroidered with various patches in gold and silver thread, formed an incredibly jarring contrast with the slaughtering army before them, appearing so out of place and even somewhat comical.

Among these magnificent silks and brocades, the figure of Bi Ziyan, the newly appointed Minister of Revenue who had only been in office for a few days, stood out as particularly unique and solitary.

He did not wear the first-rank crane robe that symbolized his status as the God of Wealth of the Ming Dynasty, but instead wore a dark-colored casual outfit that was easier to move in, and even his official boots were replaced with thin-soled, fast boots that were more suitable for long-distance walking.

The old minister, who was over fifty years old, had a furrowed brow and a solemn expression that seemed to drip water.

He maintained a polite but distant distance from his colleagues who tried to strike up a conversation, and simply nodded slightly to his subordinates who came to bow, which was his way of greeting them.

A newly appointed Vice Minister of Rites, perhaps due to his youth and unable to suppress his curiosity, or perhaps wanting to become familiar with this veteran minister who was currently enjoying the Emperor's favor, hesitated for a moment before finally stepping forward, bowing deeply, and saying respectfully, "Minister Bi, His Majesty is on a southern tour. You are in charge of the nation's finances and should be in charge of the central government, coordinating the overall situation. Why... would you condescend to accompany the Emperor?"

This is a very insightful question; it expresses respect while also addressing the doubts in everyone's mind.

For the first time, Bi Ziyan's gaze shifted from the motionless imperial carriage to the young official's face.

"His Majesty trusts me greatly and has ordered me to accompany him and serve him in raising military supplies."

"quartermaster?"

The smile on the vice minister's face froze instantly. The southern tour was meant to inspect the country and promote civil administration; how could it be related to military supplies, a word rife with bloodshed?
Having been immersed in officialdom for many years, he only hesitated for a moment before immediately laughing dryly, "Yes, yes, the Emperor's southern tour involves a vast array of ceremonial regalia and enormous expenses. Naturally, it requires the personal planning of a great man like you, Minister. I am but a fool."

He thought he was being clever by substituting the concept of military supplies for ceremonial expenses, hoping to ease the awkward atmosphere.

Bi Ziyan didn't even lift his eyelids, neither admitting nor denying, but simply nodded slightly indifferently to get by.

The vice minister, having been rebuffed, lost face and retreated sheepishly, not daring to ask another question.

Bi Ziyan then turned his gaze back to the large army, his eyes growing increasingly deep.

……

It is Chen Shi (7-9 AM).

Time seemed to be precisely frozen at this moment.

The curtain of the ever-silent imperial carriage was gently lifted a crack by a long, strong hand with distinct knuckles.

There were no lengthy instructions, no empty platitudes to appease the people of the capital.

A clear and cold voice came from there, landing precisely in the ears of the officers in the ranks.

"Departure."

There is only one word.

The entire team seemed like a sleeping behemoth, instantly awakened by this command.

To the officials, it was a breathtaking scene beyond words: nearly three thousand people and over a thousand warhorses began to move at the same time and in the same rhythm.

The sound of horses' hooves pounding on the cold stone slabs was no longer scattered, but rather a deep and rhythmic torrent, each thud seeming to pound on the hearts of all the onlookers.

Surrounded by eight hundred Xuanjia Imperial Guards, the imperial carriage slowly started moving, passed through the huge gate symbolizing the center of the world, and officially left the capital.

However, everyone who was spying on this scene in various ways stared in astonishment.

Because this vast and solemn procession, after leaving Zhengyangmen, did not travel straight along the wide road leading south, but instead turned west towards the outskirts of Beijing.

“That road…that’s the road to ‘Tianzitun’!” a voice whispered from the crowd by the roadside, tinged with a hint of horror.

Tianzitun!
The new imperial estate established by the emperor himself!
What to do there?
This extremely illogical action, like a boulder thrown into a still, deep pool, instantly stirred up a storm in the hearts of all the forces secretly watching.

At the same time, an inconspicuous Jinyiwei (Imperial Guard) officer quickly caught up with Commander Tian Ergeng's warhorse and handed him a wax pill sealed with beeswax with one hand.

Tian Ergeng reached out and took the wax pellet, then gently twisted it between two fingers.

With a soft "snap," the wax pellet shattered, revealing a finely rolled-up note.

Tian Ergeng unfolded it and glanced at it.

The note contained only a few words, but in his eyes it seemed to reflect a scene of bloodshed and carnage.

"Changlu", "Gegu Village", "Fish Sees the Bait".

A cold smile curled at the corner of Tian Ergeng's mouth, a smile filled with cruelty and pleasure.

……

Inside the imperial carriage, the curtain was once again lifted by that hand.

The emperor's face was hidden in the shadows inside the carriage, and no one could see it clearly.

He quietly looked back at the majestic capital city behind him, its outline becoming clearer in the morning light. He saw the towering city walls that reached into the clouds, and he could also "see" the pairs of eyes filled with surprise, speculation, fear, and greed hidden in countless mansions, restaurants, teahouses, and even street corners!
In the backyard of an inconspicuous house in the capital, a carrier pigeon was hastily stuffed with a note and then flung into the sky, flying swiftly southward in the opposite direction from the emperor's journey.

A fast horse quietly galloped out from a side gate of Deshengmen. The rider lowered his body, spurred the horse hard on the belly, and galloped wildly in the north, kicking up a cloud of dust.

Inside a private room of a teahouse, two merchants who were leisurely enjoying their tea suddenly changed their expressions upon hearing the news coming from outside the window. One of them accidentally knocked over his teacup, spilling scalding tea onto his hand, but seemed oblivious to it.

Countless messages are being frantically transmitted to all corners of the Ming Dynasty through various overt and covert channels, at a speed hundreds of times faster than the emperor's army is advancing.

The emperor's first step on his southern tour was contrary to everyone's expectations.

This game of chess, from the very first move, was full of unconventional elements.

(End of this chapter)