Taiping 03

Outside the prefectural office of Liangzhou, a few more commoners had gathered. The city guards scrutinized them carefully, confirming they were not the famine refugees, and after collecting some silver, allowed them to enter the city.

"I heard those refugees are heading our way," one guard muttered.

"The Governor of Liangzhou has ordered the gates shut at the sight of refugees. Keep your eyes sharp!" another barked.

The guards at the gate nodded in unison.

Yet, for many days, no refugees arrived. Those who had been moving toward the city seemed to have vanished into thin air.

The Governor of Liangzhou, however, felt an uneasy premonition. It had been days since he last received word from his subordinates. There was no news from Jincheng, Wuwei, or other towns. Anxiety gnawed at him. At a time like this, chaos was the last thing he needed. The court was embroiled in fierce infighting, and rumors said powerful clans in the south had already seized cities. Could it be...?

A subordinate entered to report that some self-proclaimed Taiping Daoist priests had been preaching in the city.

The Governor had little patience for such matters. Frustrated by the silence from the two towns, he waved the man away. "What of it? Let them preach. At least it keeps the people from idle thoughts."

Finally, after half a month, news arrived from Wuwei—but with it came an army, nearly ten thousand strong.

The Governor stood atop the city wall, staring at the yellow-clad soldiers, rubbing his eyes in disbelief.

"Since when did such an army exist within my Liangzhou?"

Before he could make sense of it, chaos erupted in the city. Shouts echoed through the streets: "The Azure Heaven is dead! The Yellow Heaven shall rise! In the year of Jiazi, the world shall know prosperity!"

Commoners, led by Daoist-robed figures, surged toward the gates, while vendors near the walls pulled blades from their carts.

The city fell—swiftly.

Not for lack of high walls or sturdy bricks, but because the Taiping Army's presence within was overwhelming.

Kneeling on the ground, the Governor racked his brain, unable to comprehend how the people under his rule had become rebels.

Then Fang Zhiyi strolled into view, and understanding dawned.

A crowd followed behind him, their faces filled with reverence. Some even knelt in worship, murmuring prayers.

Fang Zhiyi stopped before the Governor but didn’t spare him a glance. Instead, he turned to the people and declared, "Liangzhou is liberated!"

Cheers erupted. Some puzzled over the meaning of "liberation," but they soon grasped it. The Taiping Dao's creed was to bring peace and order, so the Taiping Army's first acts were to abolish oppressive taxes and redistribute land—seizing holdings from local magnates and dividing them among the people.

Beyond that, Fang Zhiyi announced that from that day forward, any wasteland reclaimed and registered with the authorities would belong to the reclaimers. This policy ignited a fervor for land cultivation.

A fourth decree was "promotion by merit." Anyone with ability could recommend themselves for office, regardless of background. While this held little appeal for commoners, it drew merchants and scholars—men of learning with no outlet, and merchants barred from politics by imperial law. Even minor landlords, though assured their lands were safe, cautiously emerged from hiding.

Soon, Fang Zhiyi’s desk was buried under bamboo scrolls, and a line of hopefuls stretched outside.

Having traversed many worlds, Fang Zhiyi had honed his judgment of character. In two days, he selected a new cohort of officials, replacing the old salary system with monthly wages paid on the first day. He also introduced a new calendar, which the people, assuming it was the reckoning of immortals, eagerly adopted.

Little Hei watched in admiration. "Host, you’re incredible."

Fang Zhiyi shook his head. "It’s not me. It’s this dynasty."

"Why do you say that?"

He sighed. "This dynasty has no faith—or rather, only the Son of Heaven is permitted to worship the Heaven-Opening Deity. The common people have nothing. If someone tells them, ‘Follow me, and I’ll ensure you’re fed,’ they’ll enshrine you as a god."

"Also, I learned from a predecessor’s failure. That man rose in eight provinces, but his rebellion was chaotic. His army relied solely on religious fervor, and his ideals never moved beyond slogans. That’s why he failed."

Little Hei nodded. "So you’re turning those slogans into reality?"

Fang Zhiyi nodded, then shook his head again. "The slogans aren’t mine. I stole them. But yes, I intend to make them real."

"But why Liangzhou? It’s not as fertile as Jizhou."

"Because—" Before he could explain, a soldier rushed in. "Great Heavenly Master!" He dragged another man forward. Fang Zhiyi recognized him—the man who had carried his mother on his back, to whom he’d given an extra bowl of porridge.

"Speak!" the soldier urged, frustrated by the man’s dazed grin.

Wang Erxi slowly opened his hand, revealing its contents. Fang Zhiyi’s breath caught.

"Great Heavenly Master, is this it? The taste and look match your description," Wang Erxi said carefully, his face hopeful.

Fang Zhiyi gave a slight nod. "Memorize this."

Wang Erxi glanced around, finally realizing the Great Heavenly Master meant for him to commit the instructions to memory. He waved his hands. "I can’t write."

"I don’t need you to. Just remember it. And you," Fang Zhiyi pointed to his personal guard, "assist him. Understood?" The guard nodded vigorously.

"Use the five-boil, three-filter method—boil it five times, filter it three. Ensure it’s fully boiled. That’s how you purify it. This step is called ‘nitre extraction.’"

"Boil sulfur with hemp oil to remove impurities, then simmer it in cypress leaf broth until dry. That’s usable."

"The charcoal must also meet standards."

Once he confirmed they’d memorized the steps, Fang Zhiyi waved them off. "The rear courtyard is yours. Go."

Then he turned back to Little Hei. "What were you saying? Liangzhou may lack grain, but it’s rich in minerals. Let’s give these ancients a little shock."

News from the Great Heavenly Master’s residence spread like wildfire, each report more astonishing than the last.

"The Great Heavenly Master has refined white sugar! Clear as gemstones!"

"He’s made fine salt, finer than what even the nobles eat!"

Skepticism lingered until fine salt and white sugar appeared in the markets. Then, belief turned to reverence.