Sky Curtain: The opening scene explains the four major cases of the Ming Dynasty plus the early Ming

The blue brick pavement of Yingtian Prefecture had been baked by the scorching sun for thirty consecutive noon days. Walking on it, even through thick-soled black boots, one could feel the intense heat.

Ever since five steel Valkyries, comparable to celestial warriors, burst forth from the sky and swept away the masked assassins, the giant projection in mid-air vanished completely. The entire court, along with the common people, craned their necks, almost to their breaking point, yet not a single movement was heard. This feeling of being suspended in mid-air was incredibly agonizing.

Inside the Fengtian Hall, half of the ice in the ice basin had melted. Zhu Yuanzhang, shirtless and wearing only a thin robe, clutched a memorial sent from Fengyang. The memorial stated that this year's summer grain harvest was poor and requested the court to allocate funds. He casually tossed the memorial aside, opened his eyelids, and glanced at Zhu Di and Li Jinglong standing below the hall.

"Counting the days, it's been thirty days."

Old Zhu spoke, but his voice wasn't as loud as usual, and it sounded a bit hot.

Zhu Di stepped forward, clasped his hands in a gesture of respect:

"Father, rest assured. My son possesses such formidable iron armor and weapons that defy the very creation of heaven and earth; ordinary villains cannot harm him. His absence is most likely due to being questioned by the imperial court of later generations. After all, divine soldiers descend from the heavens; if it were the Ming Dynasty, I would have sent people to investigate thoroughly."

Old Zhu snorted, grabbed a palm-leaf fan from the table, and waved it twice. Turning his head, he saw Li Jinglong wiping his sweat and inexplicably laughed and scolded:

"Jiujiang, you've raised a fine descendant. He's holding that firecracker and firing it with surprising skill. Let's put this in perspective: the Ministry of Works has been working day and night for a month to replicate it. If they can't even get half the quality, you'll be keeping watch on the city wall!"

Li Jinglong wore a bitter expression, wiping his forehead haphazardly with his sleeve, and repeatedly apologized. He was also wronged; the good fortune of having a descendant become a bodyguard hundreds of years later should all fall on his descendants, while he had to endure the old man's nagging.

In a parallel universe, during the Yongle Dynasty.

Beijing.

In the study of Prince Zhao's mansion, the charcoal brazier had long been removed, and the windows were propped high. Zhu Gaosui leaned back in a rosewood armchair, his eyes dark and his whole being exuding an air of utter exhaustion. To the left of his desk was a mountain of manuscripts for compiling and proofreading the Yongle Encyclopedia, and to the right were several official marriage certificates and adoption documents.

He sighed and rubbed his throbbing temples. He was truly exhausted lately.

Earlier, during the imperial court discussions about the imperial family and the changing of the throne, he had clearly heard the underlying meaning. The emperor's thoughts were unpredictable, but the principle of having many children to secure one's future was unshakeable. The old man improved his treatment, showering him with money. With more money came more trouble.

The eldest brother, Zhu Gaochi, and the second brother, Zhu Gaoxu, had just completed their adoption procedures a few days ago. The two half-grown boys were causing trouble in the backyard all day long, and in addition, all the wives and concubines in his own household were trying to conceive.

Writing history by day and "working" by night—even the toughest man couldn't withstand such a relentless schedule.

"Your Highness."

The study door was pushed open. Princess Zhao walked in carrying a steaming bowl of ginseng soup, her movements very quiet.

Zhu Gaosui opened his eyes, picked up the bowl, and, ignoring the heat, gulped it down in a few mouthfuls. The warm liquid slid into his stomach, finally restoring some of his energy. He pointed to the roof beam above him, his words tinged with helplessness:

"I wonder what happened to Zhu Dijun, the descendant who exposed the secrets of the civil official group in later generations. Those armored female generals were impressive, but as the saying goes, one shouldn't flaunt one's wealth. His high-profile revelation of his trump cards will surely cause him a lot of trouble."

The princess put away the empty bowl, stood beside him, massaged his shoulders, and spoke softly:

"Your Highness's worries are futile. We are separated by hundreds of years of life and death. This young man has divine protection and will surely turn misfortune into good fortune. On the other hand, on the Duke of Cao's side, Uncle Jiujiang's descendants share weal and woe with him. This is a predestined relationship that our two families have cultivated over many lifetimes."

Upon hearing this, Zhu Gaosui perked up slightly. He had indeed taken this matter to heart.

"Having brought this up, has Uncle Jiujiang agreed to the marriage alliance?"

The princess nodded:

"Your Highness, it is agreed. The betrothal papers have been changed, and the bride is the eldest granddaughter of the Duke of Cao's family. The two families know each other well, and this is the safest course of action."

"Very good."

Zhu Gaosui slapped his thighs, stood up, and walked to the window. Gazing at the still sky, he murmured something.

"Tie more ropes so the boat won't capsize in the wind and waves."

Just as the ancient people in various parallel universes were each preoccupied with their own thoughts, the heavens suddenly changed.

There was no wind or clouds, no lightning or thunder. The familiar giant screen unfolded without warning, and the image cut straight to the screen.

The previous studio was gone; the backdrop had been replaced by an extremely enclosed safe room with walls made entirely of steel. In the corner, the dark silver Valkyrie, numbered 20, stood silently, its optical sensors in its eyes in a dormant state.

Judy Jun, wearing a black short-sleeved shirt without any logo, pulled out a folding chair and sat down. He reached out and fiddled with the microphone, then cleared his throat.

"Dear family members, it's been a month."

The opening remarks were extremely ordinary, yet they stirred up a storm in several parallel universes. Those who were hanging in suspense finally felt relieved.

Zhu Dijun adjusted the camera angle, his tone calm, even somewhat nonchalant.

"A few days ago, there was a minor issue at the physical level. No need to guess, it was just some technical and personnel verification and filing with higher-ups. Fortunately, our country's mechanisms are reasonable; I laid it all out, and the higher-ups put in an extra layer of protection. Now, in this place, nothing but nuclear weapons can get you in."

He didn't dwell on the topic too much; this kind of succinct approach is more intimidating than a lengthy discourse.

"Enough of the digression. Let's pick up where we left off and continue to expose the inner workings of the Ming Dynasty court."

Zhu Dijun pulled a stack of bound A4 papers from the table and threw them on the table.

"After Jiajing died, his son Zhu Zaiji, who had little presence in the public eye, ascended the throne, with the reign title Longqing. These six years were lauded in history books as a glorious period. What Longqing New Deal, what a revival of the dynasty."

Zhu Dijun held up one finger and shook it.

"Today, I will use the 'Veritable Records of Emperor Muzong of Ming' as a knife to cut open the major political achievements projects of the first year of the Longqing reign. Let's see if what's inside is life-saving grain for the common people or a private account book for civil officials and nobles."

On the whiteboard behind him, he wrote the first line in a flamboyant style: "Rehabilitate the wrongful convictions of the Jiajing Emperor and settle scores with the Yan faction."

"The new emperor's first act upon ascending the throne was to exonerate the loyal ministers of the previous dynasty. Yang Jisheng and Shen Lian, these tough men who dared to point their fingers at Yan Song and were ultimately beaten to death in court and tortured to death in prison, were all restored to their honors by the Longqing Emperor, and their families were given pensions. Following that, Yan Shifan was executed, and all of Yan Song's cronies were exiled."

Zhu Dijun tapped on the table, making a clicking sound.

"It sounds satisfying. The blame for the incompetent ruler and the treacherous officials has been completely shifted. But, everyone, think about it. Who drafted this list of exonerated officials?"

He paused for three seconds, giving himself time to think.

"Grand Secretary, Xu Jie!"

Zhu Dijun announced his name and let out a cold laugh.

"What did Xu Jie do under Jiajing back then? When Yang Jisheng impeached Yan Song, Xu Jie pretended to be deaf and dumb; when Yan Song controlled the government, Xu Jie married his granddaughter to the Yan family as a concubine, flattering them. Now that Jiajing is dead and Yan Song has fallen, Grand Secretary Xu has transformed into a righteous and upright official who has set things right, and has greatly promoted Yang Jisheng and his ilk."

"Why erect this memorial archway?"

Zhu Dijun picked up a red pen and circled Yang Jisheng's name.

"This is a political show for all the upright scholars in the country. This is called seizing the moral high ground! Under the guise of redressing injustices, Xu Jie and his fellow villagers naturally filled all the official positions vacated by Yan's party with their own people. Gao Gong, Zhang Juzheng, these people were all promoted into the core decision-making level."

The screen then switches to a pie chart showing the distribution of power within the imperial court.

"The purge of Yan Song's faction is a pretense; the real purpose is a power grab. How much of the money Yan Song embezzled and the confiscated property went into the national treasury? Where did it all end up? It all ended up in the pockets of this newly formed reformist team. Using the blood and bones of the old party to feed the appetites of the new party—this is the first step of the so-called new policies!"

There was a thunder on the ground.

The Ming Dynasty, in a parallel Jiajing era.

There were no Taoist priests in the alchemy room of the West Garden, only shattered porcelain shards scattered on the floor. Zhu Houcong sat on a futon, listening to the analysis in the sky, and let out a hoarse, dry laugh. He laughed so hard that he bent over, and a few drops of moisture even welled up in the corners of his eyes.

"What a fine Xu Jie... what a clean stream of officials. I'm not quite dead yet, and they've already sharpened the knife to devour those who have no descendants."

"If it weren't for that idiot Yan Shifan, why would I have bothered to suppress his faction, only to have it become so powerful that it would eventually turn against me in the future?"

"The remnants of the Pu family, the waters of Jiangnan are truly not to be underestimated."