Chapter 1315 - 1255. Touring Taipei

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"The shipping lanes are absolute, Your Highness," General Ling Cao interjected, his voice carrying the rough, abrasive edge of a career sailor. "The Imperial Armada patrols the strait constantly. Any pirate vessel foolish enough to sail these waters is hunted down and burned to the waterline before they ever see the coast."

"And the interior?" Lie Fan asked, pointing to the massive, jagged spine of mountains that dominated the center of the map. "What of the tribes, after their lost against our consolidation here, is there still those that cause troubles?"

General Ling Cao’s expression darkened slightly, the easy festivity of the banquet replaced by the hard reality of a frontier commander.

"There are Your Majesty. They flee to the mountains and it have become a bit more... difficult, Your Majesty," Ling Cao admitted bluntly. "The terrain is treacherous, and the high altitude jungles are plagued by disease. The large majority of the tribes in the entire island have largely assimilated. They recognize the benefits of our iron tools, our medicine, and our guaranteed food supply. They have integrated into the agricultural labor force."

Ling Cao pointed a thick, scarred finger at the deep, green center of the map.

"But the minority, those that flee to the mountains... the headhunters," Ling Cao continued, his voice lowering. "They are a different breed. They view the entire island as a sacred item, and they view us as heeretics. They utilize guerrilla tactics, striking from the dense foliage with poisoned blowdarts and crude spears, then vanishing back into the mist before my heavy infantry can engage them. They are a constant, bleeding thorn in our side."

Lie Fan’s eyes narrowed. He remembered the historical difficulties of pacifying the Taiwanese interior. It was a brutal, grueling process that had frustrated empires for centuries.

"Have you attempted diplomatic outreach?" Lie Fan asked. "Have you offered them the same agricultural and medical benefits as the coastal tribes?"

"We have, Your Majesty," Yang Hong replied with a sigh. "We sent envoys laden with gifts of silk, iron tools, and grain. The envoys were returned to us... in pieces. They do not want our wealth. They want to be left alone."

"Then we shall leave them alone. For now," Lie Fan decided, his pragmatic strategy overriding any desire for immediate conquest.

He looked at Ling Cao. "General, I did not send you here to bleed my legions dry chasing ghosts through a malarial jungle. We do not need the deep mountains to secure the economic and strategic value of this island. You will establish a hard, heavily fortified perimeter along the foothills. Build watchtowers. Clear the brush back a hundred yards from the agricultural zones. If the mountain tribes stay in their peaks, ignore them. If they cross the perimeter to raid our fields, you will slaughter them with extreme prejudice using the repeating crossbow batteries. Defend the infrastructure, but do not march into the meat grinder."

"Understood, Your Majesty," Ling Cao nodded firmly, deeply relieved that the Emperor was not demanding a suicidal campaign into the interior. "The perimeter will hold."

"Good," Lie Fan smiled, leaning back in his chair, the heavy business of statecraft successfully managed. He raised his goblet once more, looking out over the grand, vibrant banquet hall, filled with his family, his brilliant commanders, and the architects of his expanding empire.

"We have built a stronghold in the ocean," Lie Fan declared, his voice carrying over the music and the laughter. "We have pushed the borders of civilization further than the ancients ever dared to dream. Tonight, we do not worry about the mountains, the Kushans, or the ledgers. Tonight, we celebrate the reach of the Black Dragon!"

The entire hall erupted in a deafening, unified roar of approval. Goblets were raised, the musicians struck up a faster, more triumphant melody.

The grand banquet in the Taipei Governor’s Palace stretched long into the humid, tropical night, transitioning from a formal state dinner into a vibrant, joyous celebration of unparalleled imperial expansion. The coastal breeze, carrying the sharp, clean scent of the ocean salt and the sweet fragrance of blooming jasmine, blew freely through the open air pavilions, offering a welcome reprieve from the stifling heat of the day.

At the high table, the strict, suffocating protocols of the Xiapi court were temporarily discarded. The Imperial Family, removed from the center of continental politics, reveled in the rare intimacy.

Lie Fan watched with profound warmth as his wives engaged in spirited, overlapping conversations. Zhen Ji, ever the brilliant economic mind, was already grilling Governor Yang Hong on the specifics of maritime taxation and the export tariffs on raw sugarcane, her eyes glinting with the prospect of maximizing the island’s mercantile output.

Beside her, Cai Wenji and Diao Chan were listening raptly to a local magistrate describe the unique weaving techniques and vibrant dyes utilized by the assimilated coastal tribes, Cai Wenji already planning to document the cultural nuances for the Imperial Library.

Further down the table, the atmosphere was decidedly more martial. Lu Lingqi, her cheeks slightly flushed from the strong, locally fermented rice wine, was deep in a tactical debate with Ma Yunlu and Sun Shangxiang.

"The cavalry charge is useless in that terrain," Lu Lingqi argued, gesturing with a half eaten skewer of spiced boar toward the dark, looming silhouette of the central mountains visible in the distance. "If you try to ride heavy horses into a high altitude jungle, they will break their legs on the roots before the headhunters even have to draw a blowpipe."

Ma Yunlu, the fierce desert warrior of the northwest, frowned playfully, swirling the wine in her cup. "A horse is only as limited as its rider, Sister Lingqi. With the right localized breeding, a smaller, hardier mount could navigate the foothills. You just have to sacrifice the heavy iron barding for speed."

"Or, you abandon the horses entirely and rely on marine infantry," Sun Shangxiang interjected with a fierce, competitive grin, her southern Jiangdong roots showing. "If the terrain restricts terrestrial movement, you utilize the rivers. Shallow draft gunboats mounted with repeating crossbows could project power deep into the jungle canopy without ever stepping foot in the mud."

Lie Fan chuckled, overhearing the exchange. Even in paradise, his wives and sister in lawa were plotting the optimal mechanics of warfare.

Beside the warrior women, the three pillars of the next generation, Sima Yi, Zhao Yun, and Ma Chao, were engaged in their own quiet camaraderie, balancing their duties as supreme commanders with their roles as fathers.

Zhao Yun, ever the paragon of stoic virtue, sat with a gentle, completely uncharacteristic softness in his eyes as he cradled his sleeping infant, carefully shielding the child from the loud music. Ma Chao was laughing boisterously, trading embellished stories of the northern campaigns with Ling Cao, the two hardened warriors finding common ground in the language of survival.

Sima Yi, seated next to Lie Wannian, was the quietest of the three. His dark, incredibly sharp eyes were constantly moving, observing the interactions, reading the political currents of the room even in this relaxed setting. He noted the deference of the local magistrates, the absolute loyalty radiating from Yang Hong and Yan Jun, and the terrifying, casual ease with which his Emperor held the absolute devotion of everyone present. It was a masterclass in sovereign gravity, and Sima Yi absorbed every detail.

As the night wore on, the musicians’ tempo slowed into a soothing, melodic rhythm played on stringed instruments and soft drums. The heavy platters of food were cleared away by silent, efficient servants, replaced by delicate porcelain cups of imported, high grade Oolong tea to settle the wine.

Lie Fan stood up slowly, offering his hand to Ying Yue. The Empress took it gracefully, standing beside him.

"The night is beautiful, but the day tomorrow requires our full attention," Lie Fan announced, his voice easily carrying over the quiet chatter. He looked to the two exhausted but incredibly proud governors. "Yang Hong, Yan Jun. You have hosted us impeccably. Tomorrow, you will prove that the ledgers match the reality. Rest well."

The banquet formally concluded, the attendees bowing deeply as the Emperor and his family retired to the lavish, heavily guarded private suites of the Governor’s Palace.

The next morning, the tropical sun rose with a blinding, golden intensity, burning the mist off the deep blue waters of the Taipei harbor.

Lie Fan was already awake, dressed in a lighter, breathable silk tunic appropriate for the island’s climate, yet still bearing the subtle, undeniable insignias of the Black Dragon. He stood on the grand steps of the palace, surrounded by his wives, his generals, and a heavily armored detachment of Ghost Bodyguards whose dark armor gleamed in the morning light.

Governors Yang Hong and Yan Jun arrived promptly, looking crisp and energized despite the late night. They were flanked by a small army of clerks holding rolled architectural blueprints and municipal ledgers.

"Your Imperial Majesty," Yang Hong bowed. "The city of Taipei awaits your inspection. We have arranged carriages, though the central mercantile and shipyard districts are best viewed on foot, if it pleases the crown."

"On foot is preferable," Lie Fan agreed, stepping down into the bustling courtyard. "I want to feel the stones. I want to see the faces of the people we govern. Lead the way."

The tour began in the sprawling, beating heart of the coastal settlement, the Imperial Shipyards.

As the imperial procession moved through the wide, perfectly paved avenues of the city, the sheer scale of the engineering feat became glaringly apparent. This was not a temporary frontier camp, it was a permanent, monumental city built to the exact, rigorous standards of the mainland. The buildings were constructed of heavy, kiln fired brick and thick timber, designed to withstand the brutal typhoons that occasionally battered the island.

The shipyards themselves were a sensory overload of industry. The air was thick with the smell of boiling pitch, sawdust, and the briny tang of the ocean. Thousands of shipwrights, carpenters, and laborers swarmed over the massive, skeletal wooden ribs of half a dozen merchant galleons currently under construction in the deep water drydocks.

Yan Jun stepped forward, having to raise his voice slightly over the rhythmic, deafening hammering of wooden pegs and iron nails.

"These are the new deep hulled merchant vessels, Your Majesty," Yan Jun explained, pointing to a massive hull that was currently being sealed with pitch. "We have modified the traditional flat bottomed river designs of the mainland. These hulls are deeper, reinforced with a secondary layer of ironwood. They are designed to cut through the treacherous ocean swells of the open sea, allowing for direct, heavy tonnage trade routes not just to Yangzhou, but all the way down the southern coastline toward the lands of the Jiaozhi and beyond."

Lie Fan nodded approvingly, his eyes tracing the clean, aerodynamic lines of the hull. He recognized the leap in naval architecture. They were moving away from simple coastal hugging and preparing for true blue water maritime trade.

"And the labor force?" Lie Fan asked, his gaze sweeping over the men working the scaffolding. He noticed a distinct visual difference among the workers. Many possessed the lighter skin and traditional topknots of the Han settlers, but a significant portion bore the darker complexions, intricate tribal tattoos, and braided hair of the indigenous Taiwanese population.

"A complete integration, Your Majesty," Yang Hong answered, a note of profound pride in his voice. "When we first arrived, the coastal tribes were hostile. But through the steady application of trade, the demonstration of our medicine, and the undeniable superiority of our iron tools, they realized that assimilation was not slavery, but an elevation of their living standards. They work side by side with the mainlanders. They are paid the exact same imperial silver, and they are protected by the exact same laws."

To prove his point, Yang Hong gestured to a group of tribal workers carrying a massive, heavy timber beam. As the Emperor’s procession drew near, the workers immediately set the beam down and dropped to their knees, pressing their foreheads against the wooden docks.

There was no resentment in their eyes when they briefly looked up, there was only a profound, almost religious awe at the sight of the legendary Son of Heaven, a figure they had only heard of in the mythic stories told by the mainland merchants.

Lie Fan paused, looking down at the kneeling men. "Rise," he commanded gently, using the standardized Prakrit that his administrators had meticulously implemented across the island.

The men stood up, their eyes wide.

"You build the vessels that carry the wealth of the Black Dragon," Lie Fan spoke clearly, ensuring his words carried to the surrounding workers. "Your sweat secures the future of this island. As long as you labor under my banners, you are my subjects, and you shall never know famine, and you shall never fear the sea."

A murmur of reverence rippled through the dockworkers, followed by a spontaneous, deeply emotional cheer that echoed across the shipyard. The psychological reinforcement of the Imperial Visit was working flawlessly. The abstract concept of an unseen Emperor had just been replaced by a tangible, powerful reality.

The tour moved from the deafening shipyards to the organized efficient mercantile districts. Here, Zhen Ji was entirely in her element. She walked alongside Yan Jun, auditing the massive, stone built warehouses that lined the harbor.

"The throughput is impressive, Governor," Zhen Ji noted, running a perfectly manicured finger over a ledger of outgoing exports. "Camphor, sulfur, dried fish, and raw sugarcane. But I see you are importing massive quantities of raw silk and unrefined iron."

"We lack the deep iron veins of the mainland, Empress," Yan Jun explained respectfully. "We trade our agricultural surplus and specialized coastal goods for the raw materials necessary to maintain the shipyards and arm the garrisons. The trade deficit is meticulously balanced."

Lie Fan listened to his wife effortlessly dissect the regional economy with a satisfied smile. The port of Taipei was flawless. It was a self sustaining, heavily fortified gateway to the Pacific.

But Taipei was only half the equation. To truly secure the island, they needed to see the breadbasket.

After a brief midday meal, the Imperial procession traded their walking shoes for the comfort of their heavily sprung carriages. They rolled out of the southern gates of Taipei, escorted by the thundering hooves of the Imperial Guards and the Yellow Ghost Bodyguards, and began the journey down the newly paved coastal highway toward the agricultural heartland of Tainan.

The transition from the bustling, urban density of the port city to the sprawling, vibrant green expanses of the western plains was breathtaking.

For hours, the carriages rolled past a landscape that had been utterly transformed by Hengyuan’s centralized agricultural mandates. The wild, untamed coastal brush had been cleared away. In its place were thousands upon thousands of acres of meticulously terraced fields.

Because of the tropical climate, the island did not suffer the freezing, dormant winters of the north. Under Yan Jun’s strict supervision, the farmers had implemented the advanced, high yield four crop rotation systems Lie Fan had introduced years ago.

As Lie Fan looked out the window of his carriage, the sheer scale of the cultivation was staggering. He saw massive, flooded paddies of deep green rice stretching to the horizon, fed by a complex, highly engineered network of irrigation canals that drew fresh water from the mountain runoffs. Adjacent to the rice were sprawling, dense fields of towering sugarcane, the thick stalks swaying gently in the ocean breeze.

When they finally arrived at the administrative center of Tainan, it was less a city of stone and more a massive, industrialized agricultural hub.

Yang Hong led the Emperor to a high, wooden observation tower built near the center of the sugarcane plantations.

"This is the lifeblood of the island, Your Majesty," Yang Hong said, gesturing grandly to the endless fields. "The soil here is unlike anything in the central plains. It is deeply volcanic and incredibly fertile. We are currently pulling three full harvests of high yield rice every single year. The surplus is so massive we have had to construct an entirely new complex of granaries just to store it before shipping it north."

Lie Fan leaned against the wooden railing, the hot, humid wind pulling at his silk robes. He saw the massive, ox driven pressing mills in the distance, crushing the harvested sugarcane to extract the sweet juice that would be boiled down into highly lucrative raw sugar blocks for export.

"It is a masterpiece of cultivation," Lie Fan praised genuinely. "You have taken a wild island and turned it into an inexhaustible granary. If the central plains ever suffer a catastrophic drought, the grain from these terraces will keep the empire from starving."

But as Lie Fan looked eastward, beyond the endless fields of green, his eyes settled on the dark, imposing, jagged peaks of the central mountain range. The mountains loomed over the plains like a sleeping, malevolent beast.

He remembered his conversation with General Ling Cao from the previous night.

"Show me the perimeter," Lie Fan commanded.

Yang Hong nodded, signaling the guards. The procession moved toward the extreme eastern edge of the cultivated plains, where the flat farmland abruptly met the dense, untamed foothills of the jungle.

Here, the pastoral beauty of the agricultural hub vanished, replaced by the cold, hard reality of military fortification.

Ling Cao had not exaggerated. A hard, undeniable line had been drawn in the earth. A hundred yards of jungle had been violently hacked away, clear cut to remove any cover for a potential ambush. Behind this barren strip of dirt stood a continuous, heavily reinforced wooden palisade, standing fifteen feet high.

Spaced evenly every quarter mile along the wall were towering watchtowers. Inside these towers, Lie Fan could see the glint of polished iron, the heavy, mechanical repeating crossbow batteries, manned by vigilant, heavily armored guards staring intensely into the dark foliage of the mountains.

"The headhunters know better than to test the open ground, Your Majesty," Ling Cao reported, riding up beside the Emperor’s carriage. "They have tried a few night raids, hoping to burn the sugarcane. The repeating crossbows shredded them before they reached the palisade. We do not chase them into the trees, and they have learned that crossing the dirt means absolute death."

______________________________

Name: Lie Fan

Title: Founding Emperor Of Hengyuan Dynasty

Age: 37 (204 AD)

Level: 16

Next Level: 462,000

Renown: 2325

Cultivation: Yin Yang Separation (level 11)

SP: 1,121,700

ATTRIBUTE POINTS

STR: 1,010 (+20)

VIT: 659 (+20)

AGI: 653 (+10)

INT: 691

CHR: 98

WIS: 569

WILL: 436

ATR Points: 0