A family of loyal martyrs, starting with nine wives to continue the family line.

The first knife of the Holy Fire Cult was thrown down by a woman.

She was holding the child, and the wood-chopping knife in her hand was already dull, with rags wrapped around the handle.

Immediately afterwards, a second, a third, and more than a dozen broken knives, wooden guns, and hoes fell to the ground.

The vanguard of the Holy Flame Cult was thrown into chaos first, followed by the central army, and finally even the able-bodied men wrapped in yellow cloth at the rear began to kneel on the ground.

Some people were still crying and calling for their wise teacher, some were covering their heads and not daring to look at the new Wu army, and some were tearing off the yellow cloth from their foreheads and stomping it into the mud.

Wei Zhao sat on his horse, his spear hanging down, but his fingers remained clenched.

Liu Jingshuang rode back, blood still dripping from the blade.

"Your Majesty, the vanguard has surrendered. There are still a few altar leaders who tried to incite unrest, but Zhao Qiniang pointed them out and shot them."

Wei Zhao nodded.

"Keep watching. Anyone who lays down their weapon will not be killed. Anyone hiding in the crowd ringing a bell or shouting for the sacred flame to be rekindled will be executed on the spot."

Liu Jingshuang glanced at him.

There are too many people.

"I know."

Wei Zhao lowered his voice: "So we can't panic."

The surrender of hundreds of thousands of people is called a victory; the surrender of millions of people is called a disaster.

Eating, drinking, injuries, resettlement, registration, and triage—any one of these can go wrong.

If even one part of the body is not properly restrained, the person who just knelt down will stand up again.

At that time, whether Zhang Yan lived or died, or whether the Holy Flame Sect was destroyed, was meaningless.

Huo Qingluan's heavily armored army slowly advanced. The shield formation did not rush into the crowd, but instead spread out in layers on the periphery, separating the surrendered believers from the refugees behind them into several passages.

She held the battle flag, her voice still cold.

"Divide them into six groups: men, women and children, the wounded, the elderly, those who have abandoned their weapons, and those suspected of being members of a religious group. Separate them first, and do not let them mix together."

Wei Zhao found it very pleasing to the eye.

Yes, that's it.

Millions of people are most afraid of getting involved in online games.

When they mix together, they become the tide.

Only when we separate can we truly be individuals.

People can be registered, given food, asked about their place of origin, and their injuries can be examined.

The tide is no good; the tide will only drown people.

"Do as General Huo says."

Wei Zhao said, "The Imperial Guards will maintain the passage, and the Wei Family Army will guard the outer perimeter. Zhao Qiniang will lead the people to identify the altar master, and Xie Daoning will lead the medical officers to save the children and wounded soldiers first."

Zhao Qiniang returned from the crowd, her face extremely pale.

"Your Majesty, there are more people at the Red Altar than you think. Many others have hidden bells in the soles of their shoes, their hair buns, and their broken carts."

Wei Zhao sneered.

"search."

"What if they say they were forced into it too?"

"Make them reveal who persecuted them."

Wei Zhao looked at the group of people kneeling on the ground: "If you can confess, you can be detained temporarily. If you can't confess, and you're still hiding bells and medicine, then there's no need to ask any more questions."

Zhao Qiniang nodded.

She understood what those words meant.

The emperor doesn't intend to kill indiscriminately, but he also won't risk the lives of millions to play the mercy game with the altar master.

The Holy Fire Cult has survived to this day because too many people, disguised as ordinary citizens, are pushing others to their deaths.

The gates of the Golden City were wide open.

The surrendered soldiers were brought in batches.

The warehouses, drill grounds, and abandoned camps in the city were all cleared out, and even the old camps where the Eighteen Route Army had lived were re-planted with the new Wu Army flag.

Women and children entered the city first, the wounded were carried to temporary medical tents, and the able-bodied men had their weapons confiscated. They were divided into teams of ten and registers of one hundred, according to the prefecture and county.

Some people knelt at the city gate, too afraid to go in.

"Really...really give us food?"

A captain of the Imperial Guard frowned, about to curse, but Wei Zhao raised his hand to stop him.

He dismounted and walked up to the man.

It was an old man who was so thin he was just skin and bones, holding a little girl's hand.

The little girl was so hungry that her eyes were wide and her lips were chapped. When she saw the blood on Wei Zhao's white clothes, she shrank back in fright.

Wei Zhao squatted down and handed over the water pouch at his waist.

"drink."

The old man was stunned.

The little girl timidly took the water bag, drank a sip, and quickly handed it to the old man.

The old man suddenly knelt down and kowtowed to the ground.

"This humble subject...this humble subject thanks Your Majesty."

A group of people behind him knelt down.

"Go into town."

Wei Zhao stood up: "Drink the porridge first, then register. Anyone who dares to snatch or cause trouble will be dealt with according to military law. Families with children or elderly people should get a number first."

Once the military order was passed down, Golden City was like a pot that had been forcibly opened, beginning to receive the bitter water boiled up by this chaotic world.

In the capital, Li Huai was stunned when he smashed open the seventh hidden vault.

"Is this some kind of official in the Ministry of Revenue?"

He stood in a secluded courtyard of a branch of the Wang family, looking at the rows of silver chests in the cellar, and his face twitched.

The imperial guards opened the box, revealing it piled high with silver, along with gold leaves, pearls, land deeds, grain coupons, and even several old ledgers documenting the allocation of grain relief supplies from Qingzhou.

Li Huai squatted down, flipped through two pages, and smiled.

The laughter made several officials nearby weak in the knees.

"OK."

He held up the ledger.

"People are starving to death in Qingzhou, and you're lending money at exorbitant interest rates in the capital. Of the 30,000 shi of relief grain released from the granary, only 8,000 shi reached the local areas. The remaining 22,000 shi all went to your houses and concubines?"

One of the former officials turned deathly pale.

"Prime Minister Li, this matter has far-reaching implications. Should we wait until His Majesty returns to the capital before proceeding...?"

"wait?"

Li Huai turned to look at him.

"His Majesty is taking in millions of refugees in the City of Gold, and you expect me to wait? Wait for what? Wait for all this silver to grow legs and run away? Or wait for you to burn all your debts to the ground?"

The former official's lips moved, but he didn't dare to answer.

Li Huai now understands.

The national treasury is impoverished, not these officials.

The empty space was the official granary, not their cellar.

The Ministry of Revenue complains of poverty every day, the Ministry of War cries out about a lack of grain every day, and the Ministry of Works says there's no iron every day.

The results of it?

If you just smash open any shop, the money there will be so dazzling it hurts your eyes.

The fall of the old Wei dynasty was not unjust. If such a dynasty had not fallen, even Heaven would find it filthy.

"seal up!"

Li Huai stood up, his voice very rough.

"The silver will be deposited into the new treasury, and the grain coupons will be transferred to Madam Su after verification. The land deeds will be registered separately. All the officials involved will be imprisoned in the new prison of the Ministry of Justice. Anyone who dares to cry foul will have an account book stuffed in their mouth and be allowed to cry their hearts out!"

The Imperial Guards responded with a resounding roar.

Boxes of silver were carried out of the villa, and onlookers crowded from one end of the street to the other.

At first, no one dared to speak up, but when the thirtieth box of silver was carried out, someone finally started cursing.

"Corrupt official!"

"My uncle's family lived in Qingzhou! Four out of six family members starved to death!"

"Kill them!"

The insults grew louder and louder.

Li Huai stood at the door holding the account book, his back burning from listening.

He wasn't a scholar and couldn't articulate any profound theories about pacifying the people.

But he knew one thing: the common people weren't born wanting to rebel.

These are the people who ate all the food, blocked the road, and then blamed the common people for not knowing the rules.

Pooh.

If the rules only protect those who eat people, then the rules should be changed.

When Su Qingyun arrived at the new warehouse, the silver chests had already filled half the courtyard.

She glanced at it, and her expression changed.

"How many?"

Li Huai handed over the account book, his voice still a little hoarse.

"One million seven hundred and sixty thousand taels of silver, eighty-three thousand taels of gold, and two hundred and ninety thousand shi of grain in cash. There are also land deeds, shops, and treasury bonds that haven't been converted yet. As for the four major families, the Zheng family has provided one hundred and twenty ships, the Cui family's one hundred thousand shi of grain has already been shipped, the Wang family has provided eighty thousand taels of silver, and the Lu family... the Lu family is a bit poor, but they provided three thousand accountants and porters."

Su Qingyun paused for a moment as she flipped through the curtains.

"The Lu family is quite clever."

"The poor have their own way of living."

Li Huai grinned: "They don't have money, so they'll send people. The accountant is even more in need of money than silver right now."

Su Qingyun nodded.

Of course she knew about the lack.

Millions of refugees cannot be dealt with simply by setting up a porridge pot.

Registration requires people, grain distribution requires people, household registration requires people, and even the altar master needs people.

Wei Zhao had brought the Holy Fire Sect to a standstill, so she had to keep things going from there.

If we can't hold on, all the previous victories will have been for nothing.

She closed the ledger.

Give me two hundred thousand troops.

Li Huai was stunned for a moment.

"Two hundred thousand?"

"Protect grain, guard ships, maintain order in Golden City, and relocate the people."

Su Qingyun looked at him: "His Majesty's 100,000 men alone cannot control so many people."

Li Huai scratched his head.

"What about the capital?"

Su Qingyun smiled.

"Aren't you the Prime Minister?"

Li Huai's face twitched.

Good guy.

That was harsher than an insult.

Su Qingyun had already turned around and given the order.

"The silver wagons will go first, followed by the grain convoys. The Zheng family's fleet will travel by water, while the Cui family's grain wagons will travel by official road. Two hundred thousand troops will leave the capital in three routes. Anyone who dares to block the grain supply, anyone who dares to rob the road, or anyone who dares to spread rumors of His Majesty's defeat will be captured on the spot."

She paused, her voice very gentle.

"Those who rebel, follow the doctrine of dissent."

As Li Huai watched her retreating figure, he suddenly felt a chill run down his spine.

None of the women around Wei Zhao were weak.

Three days later, dust rose again outside the Golden City.

Wei Zhao had just come out of the resettlement camp, still holding a newly registered list of refugees in his hand.

He barely slept for three days.

The soup kitchens in the city were burning from morning till night, and the cries from the medical clinics never stopped. The number of alms-masters that Zhao Qiniang had captured had already filled two prison camps.

difficult.

It's much harder than fighting a war.

Fighting and killing the enemy yields results, but resettling the people does not.

We gave them porridge today, and we'll give them more tomorrow.

I registered my household registration today, and I'll be assigned a route tomorrow.

If you slow down even a little, some people will go hungry, some will cause trouble, and some will be bewitched again by the old leader.

As Wei Zhao was pondering this, a shout suddenly came from the city wall.

"Your Majesty! Troops are approaching from the capital!"

Wei Zhao looked up.

On the distant official road, 200,000 troops escorted carts of silver, grain, and medicine, stretching as far as the eye could see.

At the front of the carriage, Su Qingyun lifted the curtain and looked at him.

Wei Zhao's shoulders, which had been tense for three days, finally relaxed by half an inch.