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

Chapter 32 The Shadow Behind Shanxi Merchants

Half a month later,

The night was still as deep as an overturned pool of ink, immersing the entire majestic Forbidden City within it.

There were no maids or eunuchs serving in the warm pavilion of Qianqing Palace.

In the vast space, only a single lamp burned, its wick trimmed perfectly, the flame steadily licking upwards like a golden-red tongue.

There were only two people in the warm room.

One was sitting, and the other was kneeling.

The one kneeling is Wei Zhongxian.

He knelt on the polished, mirror-like gold bricks, the icy chill seeping into his kneecaps through the thick fabric of his official robes.

Tonight, he did not, as usual, use his hoarse yet unique voice, honed by power and years, to create atmosphere, nor did he use a few well-placed flattering words to test the emperor's intentions.

He simply knelt, like a stubborn rock awaiting the will of its master, a stubborn rock willing to be used to smash anything.

Because he knew better than anyone that what he brought tonight needed no embellishment.

They are thunder itself!

In front of him, on the floor, were three objects neatly arranged.

A stack of account books.

There weren't many, only seven or eight books, but each one was surprisingly thick, like a piece of blue brick.

The cover was an old blue cloth, the edges worn and frayed from years of handling, and it gave off a musty smell.

These ledgers look unremarkable, like the daily accounts of any thriving silk shop or rice store in the capital.

A stack of letters carefully wrapped in oiled paper.

The oil paper had turned yellow and become brittle, with deep creases that clearly recorded how it had been carefully opened and secretly closed countless times.

Even through this layer of oiled paper, one could almost smell the nauseating stench of conspiracy.

These are not intimate family letters, nor are they elegant gatherings for poetic revelry. Rather, they are the invisible yet deadly spiderweb that connects the imperial court with the border, officials with merchants, and the Ming Dynasty with the Later Jin.

The third thing is a long list.

The snow-white Xuan paper and the jet-black ink were used to write each name in the most standard official script, yet the brushstrokes at the end revealed a sharp and powerful force, as if they were carved into the paper not with soft wolf hair, but with a carving knife.

Just by looking at them, you can feel an undisguised bloodshed and murderous intent emanating from those familiar names.

A long time, a long time.

So long that the candlelight of that solitary lamp finally gave way and burst open with a "crack," creating a bewitching flame.

Zhu Youjian finally moved, extending a hand from his wide sleeves.

It was a young man's hand, with long, slender fingers, distinct knuckles, and skin that was almost transparently white due to years of lack of sunlight, with even the pale blue veins clearly visible beneath.

This was a hand that should have been used to hold a pen and paint, or to play the zither. But at this moment, this hand was as steady as a boulder carved from the Taihang Mountains, without the slightest tremor.

Zhu Youjian moved slowly. He didn't look at the list first, nor did he touch the letters that contained the core secrets. His fingertips first landed on the stack of musty account books.

The fingertips feel the roughness of the fabric and the heaviness of the paper; it is a heavy texture that can almost be touched, produced by the accumulation of sins to a certain degree.

"Go ahead."

The emperor's voice was soft and flat, without any discernible emotional fluctuations, like casually asking about the weather in the early morning.

But Wei Zhongxian's huddled body seemed to have been whipped hard by those two casually mentioned words, and he trembled violently.

“Your Majesty,” his voice finally rang out, hoarse yet exceptionally clear, each word like a nail forcefully hammered into the deathly silent warm chamber, “This old servant… has investigated thoroughly.”

Wei Zhongxian paused for a moment, organizing his thoughts, or rather, considering how to tell this shocking secret that could overturn the dynasty in a way that would be most acceptable to the emperor and would best demonstrate his irreplaceable value.

“Your Majesty, these so-called ‘Shanxi merchants,’ the Fan family, the Wang family, the Liang family… none of them are masters.”

The first sentence was like a piece of red-hot meteorite, silently thrown into a bottomless, icy pool.

Zhu Youjian's eyes flickered slightly, and something flashed in his deep eyes so quickly that it was impossible to catch it.

His fingers, which were resting on the ledger, began to tap rhythmically, making a "tap, tap, tap" sound.

This sound was the only rhythm in the warm pavilion at this moment. It was unhurried, like an emperor in thought, or like the footsteps of death, counting down for some people!

Zhu Youjian did not urge him; he was waiting. He knew that Wei Zhongxian, that old dog, was best at saving the fattest and most vital parts of his prey for last.

Wei Zhongxian swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing, and continued, "They are just... managers. To put it bluntly, they are openly managing the business for their real masters, and also... protecting them from disaster and sending them to their deaths."

"This old servant mobilized all the deepest-buried spies of the Imperial Guard, following this line meticulously, peeling back the layers, and finally managed to find the vital spot of this venomous snake coiled around the Ming Dynasty. But what he discovered was a shocking truth." His voice revealed the weariness of success, as well as the bloodthirsty excitement hidden beneath the exhaustion.

"The head of this venomous snake is not in Shanxi, a land of merchants, nor in the lush grasslands, but in... Zhangjiakou."

"Zhangjiakou?" Zhu Youjian's fingers stopped.

He was very familiar with this place name.

It was the foremost of the nine border towns of the Ming Dynasty and the vital trade route in the north.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Wei Zhongxian lowered his voice even further, “The real owners behind those Shanxi merchants are not a single person or a single family, but a… a gang.”

He deliberately emphasized the word "gang," saying, "a gang composed of officials from our Great Ming Dynasty."

Gang!

Upon hearing the word "gang," Zhu Youjian instinctively thought of factional strife!
Throughout history, since the Qin and Han dynasties, every dynastic change in China has begun with factional strife.

By the Ming Dynasty, the factional strife was unprecedented, with the Yan faction, Xu faction, eunuch faction, and Donglin faction taking turns on the stage!

The air inside the warm pavilion seemed to be sucked out in that instant, becoming thin and scalding hot.

Although Wei Zhongxian dared not raise his head, he could clearly feel that the gaze, which had been relatively calm, suddenly became sharp as a knife, as if it were a tangible substance that would split his soul in two from the top of his head!
(End of this chapter)