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

The eighth day of the fourth month in the second year of Xinwu.

At exactly 5:00 AM, the morning light was just beginning to break.

Three whip cracks sounded outside the Imperial Examination Hall in the capital, followed by three muffled drumbeats.

"Open the door!"

Amidst the drawn-out greetings of the Ministry of Rites officials, the two vermilion doors, which had been sealed for three whole days, slowly opened inward with a creak.

Outside the door, the dense crowd parted to both sides like the receding tide, making way for a passage just wide enough for two people to walk side by side.

There was no commotion, no pushing or shoving.

Thousands of scholars from all over the country stood quietly in the morning light, their eyes fixed on the door.

Many of them were ragged, pale, and still carried the chill of sleeping on the streets, but their eyes shone like those of wolves that had been starving for a long time and had finally spotted meat.

The second floor of the teahouse opposite the Imperial Examination Hall, a window seat.

Wei Zhao changed into an ordinary blue cloth robe, holding a cup of tea that had gone cold, his gaze fixed on the surging crowd below.

Li Huai sat opposite him, with his back to the window, yet it seemed as if he could see everything below.

The old prime minister stood ramrod straight, his fingers tapping lightly on the table, the rhythm a little erratic.

"Your Majesty, there are too many people."

Li Huai's voice was very low, carrying a hint of worry that even he himself didn't realize:

"More than 7,000 people, what if a riot breaks out..."

"I won't cause any trouble." Wei Zhao put down his teacup, his voice calm.

He watched as the people below, one by one, followed the numbers on their exam cards and, guided by soldiers, walked nervously but orderly into the courtyard that would determine their fate.

There was an elderly man with white hair, being supported by his grandson, and every step he took seemed to require all his strength.

There was a teenager, his face still bearing the innocence of a child, clutching the book in his arms tightly, as if it were his life.

There was also a middle-aged man with a limp, walking slower than anyone else, but more steadily than anyone else.

"They're afraid."

Wei Zhao said softly, "They're afraid this is their last chance, afraid that once this door closes, it will never open again. That's why they cherish it more than anyone else, and they follow the rules more strictly than anyone else."

Li Huai fell silent.

He knew Wei Zhao was right.

But looking at those faces filled with longing and fear, he still felt a tightness in his heart.

This is not the imperial examination system; it is clearly opening a floodgate for all those who are unwilling to accept their fate.

Wei Zhao's gaze swept across the crowd, finally landing on a few empty street corners in the distance.

That place should have been where the carriages of noble families would stop.

"They didn't come."

A faint smile appeared on Wei Zhao's lips.

Li Huai snorted coldly: "I expected this long ago. Those old fogies are waiting to see us make a fool of ourselves."

"Let them see."

Wei Zhao withdrew his gaze, watching one after another, the scholars from humble backgrounds enter the examination hall, his eyes displaying an almost cold calm:

"These people are the future of Shinwu. As for those who are just waiting to see us fail..."

He didn't finish his sentence, but Li Huai understood.

Those who were waiting to see the joke fall apart soon stopped laughing.

Inside the examination hall, you could hear a pin drop.

More than 7,000 candidates were seated in individual examination cells according to their examination numbers.

The small space contained only a table, a stool, a candlestick, and the Four Treasures of the Study.

The air was filled with the mingled smells of new ink and old wood, so oppressive that it was hard to breathe.

A young test-taker, due to nervousness, trembled and spilled ink on his exam paper. His face turned pale instantly, and he almost burst into tears.

Just then, a white figure passed by his cell.

Fang Fuyao was still dressed in a plain white robe, her face expressionless. Her gaze did not linger on anyone, yet it seemed as if she could see through everyone's thoughts.

She simply walked past the candidate's cubicle without saying a word, but the candidate seemed to be held down by an invisible force, took a deep breath, picked up his pen again, carefully avoided the ink stain, and continued answering the questions.

The first session focused on the interpretation of scriptures.

The test assesses knowledge of the Four Books and Five Classics, which is a strength of traditional scholars.

The second round was a policy discussion.

There is only one topic: On the new military administration, how should it be promoted and how should it be reformed?

When this question was asked, many people were stumped.

Praise the new martial arts?

Anyone can do that.

But the character "革" (revolution) is like a knife hanging over everyone's head.

To put it mildly, it's flattery. To put it bluntly, it's courting death.

In the examination room, even the scratching sound of pens slicing across paper paused for a moment.

Until the afternoon, the third session, practical application.

When the exam papers were rolled up, the entire examination hall fell completely silent, followed by a collective gasp.

There were no poems, songs, or commentaries on the classics.

There are only three questions.

First, there are a million refugees in the northern border, who have no food or clothing. How can they be settled within three months?

Second, the Jiangnan region has suffered from a century-old tax crisis, with powerful families hiding their land and officials and merchants colluding. How can we conduct a thorough survey of land and equalize taxes without causing unrest among the people?

Third, with the new military establishment just completed, everything needs to be rebuilt, and both military and civilian food supplies are in demand. How can we increase the national grain production by 30% within three years?

Half of the people in the exam room turned pale.

These questions are so difficult that even the high-ranking officials in the court might not be able to answer them, let alone the ministers and vice-ministers. This isn't an exam; it's a test for the prime minister!

An old scholar, well-versed in literature, looked at the question, his hand holding the pen trembled for a long time, and he couldn't write a single word.

He spent his whole life studying classical Chinese texts, never once thinking about how to increase grain production.

But in the cell next to his, a dark-skinned peasant boy with calloused hands, after a brief moment of astonishment, suddenly had a surprising glint in his eyes.

His name was Sun Dashi, and he came from Hedong. He was ignorant of classical texts, and his policy essays were utter nonsense, but when he saw the third question, he laughed.

He picked up his pen and, almost without hesitation, quickly wrote a few words on the draft paper: "Cultivate new varieties, repair water conservancy projects, make new plows, make the best use of human strength, and make the land as fertile as possible."

He didn't know any grand principles; all he knew was that this was how his father farmed.

In an inconspicuous corner of the examination hall, several clerks disguised as servants were bowing their heads and quickly recording the name, place of origin, physical characteristics, and even the small gestures of each candidate as they entered the examination hall.

At the top of the booklet, three characters were written in very small print: "A Record of Observing People".

This was a method Liu Suan taught Fang Fuyao to prevent infiltration by hostile forces.

Now, Wei Zhao has adopted this method and applied it to the imperial examination system that he personally initiated.

Night was falling.

Wei Zhao has already returned to the Imperial Study.

The cold tea in the teahouse was replaced with hot tea brewed by Su Qingyun herself.

The lights were on, but Wei Zhao wasn't reading. He just sat quietly, tapping his fingers absently on the imperial desk.

He is waiting.

Finally, a series of extremely light yet extremely fast footsteps came from outside the hall.

A secret agent from the Embroidered Uniform Guard, dressed in the attire of an imperial eunuch, silently slid in, knelt on one knee, and presented a bamboo tube sealed with sealing wax with both hands.

"Your Majesty, an urgent message from Jingzhou, traveling 800 li."

Li Huai's eyelids twitched, and he suddenly stood up.

Wei Zhao remained seated, his expression unchanged. He took the bamboo tube but did not open it immediately. Instead, he looked up at the spy.

"What's the panic?"

The spy was stunned, cold sweat instantly beading on his forehead. He quickly lowered his head and said, "This subordinate...this subordinate lost his composure."

Wei Zhao then slowly pried open the sealing wax and pulled out the paper roll inside.

The scroll was very small, and the characters on it were even smaller, a secret writing technique unique to the Embroidered Uniform Pavilion.

Wei Zhao glanced at it only once, and the calm that had lasted all day on his face was finally replaced by a very faint, cold smile.

coming.

The fish finally took the bait.

"Outside Jingzhou City, in the direction of Jiming Mountain, a large number of refugees have appeared, carrying the banner of 'We can't survive, so we're coming to the city to beg for food,' and are gathering towards Qinglong Gate. Their numbers are... around ten thousand."

Li Huai read it aloud, his throat becoming dry.

More than ten thousand refugees besieged the city gates of the prefecture just as the imperial examinations were about to begin. This was no longer a simple civil unrest.

"His Majesty!"

Li Huai said urgently, "Liu Ruhui has made his move! I request that the capital's main camp be mobilized immediately to reinforce Jingzhou!"

The air in the imperial study seemed to freeze.

Wei Zhao remained silent.

He slowly put down the scroll of paper, picked up the vermilion brush, and wrote only two characters on a blank sheet of rice paper.

wait.

He handed the paper to the undercover agent, his voice calm and utterly emotionless.

"Send the order to Wang Meng, the garrison commander of Jingzhou. Act in accordance with these two words without fail."

The spy took the light-looking piece of paper, but felt it weighed a ton. He dared not ask any questions, kowtowed to accept the order, and quickly retreated.

Li Huai looked at Wei Zhao, his lips moved, but in the end he didn't dare to persuade him anymore.

He suddenly realized that from this day forward, Xinwu's sword would not only be used to kill enemies, but also to kill his own people.

The young emperor did not hesitate for a moment.