Chapter 1318 - 1258. Two New Projects But Mi Zhu...

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Lie Fan turned, his eyes burning with an intense, visionary fire that seemed to pierce right through the smog of the capital. "This is no longer a prototype," the Emperor declared, his voice rising, filled with the absolute authority of a man who was actively rewriting the laws of physics and governance. "We move to mass production immediately. Liu Ye, you will convert the secondary foundries exclusively to casting these masts and gears. Huang Chengyan, you will organize the labor battalions."

He pointed a finger at Zhuge Liang. "Zhuge Liang, you will formally establish the Imperial Signal Corps tomorrow morning. Draft the brightest and mathematically gifted cadets from the military academies. They must memorize the cipher until it is etched into their bones. They must learn to maintain the steam engines, repair the dampeners, and read the shapes through rain, fog, and sleet."

"We will lay the first line," Lie Fan commanded, pacing before the machine, the continental map unrolling in his mind. "A primary, heavily fortified trunk line running directly from the central towers of the Imperial Palace, stretching westward along the Hexi Corridor, terminating at the forward operating camps of the Great Wall. We will build a tower every fifteen miles. We will cut paths through the forests and build stone foundations on the mountain peaks to ensure absolute line of sight."

He looked back at the towering machine.

"If the Kushans march, I want to know before they have even finished crossing the border," Lie Fan said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, uncompromising whisper. "I want the mobilization orders in the hands of the central legions before the enemy has set up their first camp. I want the Black Dragon to see everything, instantly."

"It shall be done, Your Imperial Majesty," the four inventors chorused, bowing deeply, their exhaustion entirely banished by the sheer, intoxicating momentum of the Emperor’s mandate.

"And Your Majesty..." Huang Yue Ying spoke up, her voice tentative but laced with a deep, proud excitement. She stepped forward, gesturing toward the massive, cavernous doors of the primary foundry behind them. "The optical telegraph is not the only one we have fulfilled in your absence."

Lie Fan paused, turning his attention to the brilliant metallurgist. "Explain, Lady Yue Ying."

"The prime mover, Your Majesty," Liu Ye interjected, a feral grin splitting his soot stained face. "The machine you envisioned to us to build to haul the heavy cargo carts. The... Iron Centipede, as Lady Yue Ying has named it."

Liu Ye gestured grandly toward the dark foundry doors. "We have cast the flanged wheels. We have forged the heavy steel coupling rods and linked the massive drive wheels to maximize the traction. The chassis is complete, and the multi tubular boiler has been successfully mounted."

Lie Fan’s breath hitched in his throat. The telegraph was the nervous system, but the train... the train was the blood and the muscle. If they had successfully built the first heavy freight locomotive, the logistical limitations of the ancient world were officially, permanently dead.

"Show it to me," Lie Fan commanded, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm.

Liu Ye and Yue Ying practically ran to the heavy foundry doors, throwing their combined weight against the massive iron handles. The doors groaned on their hinges, sliding open to reveal the dimly lit, cavernous interior.

And there, resting in the center of the foundry, elevated on heavy wooden blocks, was the beast.

It was massive. It was terrifying. It was a sprawling, brutalist monument to steam and steel. It no longer looked anything like a carriage. It was a true, heavy industrial locomotive.

Lie Fan walked slowly into the foundry, his eyes tracing the massive, riveted black iron boiler. He looked down at the six massive, heavy iron drive wheels, perfectly cast with the protruding inner flange designed to lock onto the tracks.

He saw the thick, heavy steel coupling rods linking the wheels together, ensuring that the violent, explosive torque of the steam pistons would be distributed flawlessly, gripping the iron rails with the strength of a god.

He walked to the rear of the machine, his hand brushing against the massive, heavy iron knuckle coupling designed to link with the endless line of cargo carts.

"We have calculated the pulling power, Your Majesty," Yue Ying whispered, standing beside him in the shadows of the machine. "If we lay the flanged iron tracks... if we keep the boiler fed with coal... this single machine can haul hundreds of tons of dead weight. It can pull fifty heavy cargo carts loaded with solid granite without slipping."

Lie Fan closed his eyes, resting his forehead against the cold, unyielding iron of the boiler.

He saw the future. He saw thousands of miles of iron tracks cutting across the plains, tearing through the mountains, bridging the great rivers. He saw massive, armored trains hauling tens of thousands of troops across the continent in a matter of days, completely bypassing the agonizing, starving slog of a terrestrial march.

He saw trains loaded with many tons of grain, coal, iron orea, and many more, feeding the foundries and the cities with a mechanical reliability that mocked the changing seasons while being maintained.

He opened his eyes, looking at Liu Ye, Huang Chengyan, Zhuge Liang, and Huang Yue Ying.

"You have given me the eyes of a hawk with the telegraph," Lie Fan said, his voice echoing in the cavernous foundry, trembling with the sheer, undeniable weight of history. "And now, you have given me the strength of a titan with this engine. The world is no longer a vast, untamable wilderness."

Lie Fan stepped back from the Iron Centipede, his posture straightening into the absolute, terrifying rigidity of the conqueror of the known world.

"Begin casting the flanged rails immediately," the Emperor commanded, his voice ringing like a hammer striking an anvil. "Tear up the wooden rails between the western quarries and the foundries. Lay the iron rails. We will link the quarries to the furnaces, and then we will link the furnaces to the Great Wall."

"The era of the horse carriage is over," Lie Fan declared, his voice carrying the finality of a falling executioner’s blade. "The era of the Iron Centipede has begun."

The four master inventors stood in the shadow of the colossal locomotive, the heat of the foundry pressing against their soot stained skin, and bowed in perfect unison. There was no hesitation, no doubt. The continuously developing terrifying ambition of their Emperor was intoxicating, an addictive drug that drove them past the limits of human exhaustion.

"We shall tear up the wooden rails by nightfall, Your Majesty," Liu Ye promised, his eyes locked onto the massive flanged wheels. "The primary foundries will shift entirely to casting the interlocking iron rails. The path to the western quarries will be laid in solid steel."

"Good," Lie Fan nodded, turning away from the locomotive, his mind already shifting from the mechanics of creation to the brutal reality of logistics. "I will inform Minister Mi Zhu. He is to release whatever funds, whatever iron reserves, and whatever slave labor battalions you require to expedite the track laying and the construction of the telegraph towers."

At the mention of the Minister of Finance, a sudden, collective wince rippled through the four inventors.

Lie Fan caught the reaction and paused, raising a dark eyebrow.

"I know," Lie Fan said, a faint, knowing smile touching his lips. "He will protest. He will be angry about the treasury bleeding out. The Western Great Wall expansion and the renovation of the northern defenses are currently draining the imperial coffers like a severed artery. Let him scream. Let him protest. I will handle Minister Mi Zhu."

Zhuge Liang let out a short, genuine chuckle, leaning slightly on his crane feather fan.

"We are grateful that it is Your Imperial Majesty who must handle him, and not us," the Sleeping Dragon joked, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "I can calculate the exact trajectory of a repeating crossbow bolt in a hurricane, but I cannot win an argument against Master Mi Zhu when he is standing in front of the treasury doors. The man defends imperial silver with a ferocity that makes General Huang Zhong look timid."

A loud burst of laughter echoed through the foundry. Even the usually stoic Huang Chengyan was grinning broadly. It was a well known, slightly terrifying truth within the highest echelons of the Hengyuan court: no one, not the greatest generals nor the most brilliant strategists, wanted to ask Mi Zhu for money.

"His ferocity is exactly why I gave him the keys to the vault, Zhuge Kongming," Lie Fan chuckled, turning back toward the heavy foundry doors. "Continue your work. Cast the rails. Build the towers. I go to face the dragon of the ledgers."

With a final nod to his peerless engineers, Lie Fan swept out of the foundry. The thick, suffocating heat of the workshop gave way to the cool, gray smog of the industrial district.

"Mount up," Lie Fan commanded to the captain of the Yellow Ghost Bodyguards waiting in the courtyard. "We ride for the Ministry of Finance."

The fifty elite guards fell into a tight, heavily armored formation around the Emperor. They rode out of the industrial sector, navigating the bustling, chaotic streets of Xiapi with practiced, aggressive efficiency.

The Ministry of Finance was not a delicate, ornate palace of diplomacy. It was a massive, imposing fortress of cut basalt and heavy iron, situated deliberately close to the primary imperial highways and the central bank. It was designed to look impregnable, projecting the absolute financial security of the Hengyuan Dynasty.

When the fifty heavy cavalrymen of the Ghost Bodyguards, flanking the Emperor himself, suddenly thundered into the Ministry’s sprawling front courtyard, the effect was immediate and terrifying.

The imperial clerks and magistrates milling about the courtyard froze in their tracks. The clattering of abacuses echoing from the open windows abruptly ceased. In a bureaucracy where the Emperor rarely visited unannounced, a sudden appearance accompanied by the most lethal guards in the empire usually signaled only one thing, a massive and bloody purge of corruption.

Panic instantly flared in the eyes of the mid level accountants. Ledgers were hastily shoved under desks, and hundreds of bureaucrats dropped to their knees on the cold stone floors, pressing their foreheads to the ground, terrified that they were about to be dragged out and executed for a misplaced decimal point.

Lie Fan dismounted smoothly, ignoring the wave of absolute terror he had just inflicted upon his financial apparatus. He tossed his reins to a guard and strode up the wide, basalt steps of the Ministry, his dark silk robes snapping in the wind.

He didn’t wait for heralds or announcements. He walked directly past the kneeling, trembling guards at the main doors and navigated the labyrinthine corridors with the unerring memory of a man who had designed the building himself.

He reached the heavy, double oak doors of the Minister’s private office. He didn’t knock. He simply pushed them open.

Mi Zhu was seated behind a massive desk of polished mahogany that was practically buckling under the weight of hundreds of stacked scrolls, taxation ledgers, and intricate architectural budgets. The Minister of Finance, a man who had once been one of the wealthiest merchants in Xuzhou before dedicating his life to Lie Fan, looked utterly exhausted. Dark circles bagged beneath his sharp, calculating eyes, and his usually immaculate silk robes looked slightly rumpled.

At the sound of the heavy doors opening, Mi Zhu’s head snapped up.

When he saw the Emperor standing in the doorway, framed by the terrifying silhouettes of the Ghost Bodyguards, Mi Zhu immediately scrambled out from behind his desk. He knocked over a small stack of silver requisition forms in his haste, dropping to his knees on the thick Persian rug.

"Your Imperial Majesty!" Mi Zhu gasped, genuine shock coloring his voice. He had expected the Emperor to be resting after the grueling two month tour of Taiwan, not kicking down the doors of the treasury. "I... I beg your forgiveness for not receiving you in the main courtyard! We received no advanced riders of your arrival!"

Lie Fan waved his hand dismissively, stepping into the opulent office and signaling for the guards to close the doors behind him.

"It is not a problem, Master Mi Zhu. Rise," Lie Fan said, his tone casual, though the underlying gravity of the throne was ever present. "I did not send advanced riders because I did not want a parade. I came directly from the Imperial Workshop. I have matters of strategic urgency to discuss with you."

Mi Zhu stood up, hastily smoothing his robes. He gestured nervously to a pair of plush, high backed chairs situated near a small tea table.

"Please, Your Majesty, sit," Mi Zhu offered, his mind already racing, trying to anticipate what disaster could have prompted this sudden visit. "I am entirely at your disposal. What matters of state do you wish to discuss?"

Lie Fan walked over and sat down, resting his hands on the carved armrests. He looked directly at his Minister of Finance, preparing to drop the logistical hammer.

"I have two new continent spanning infrastructure projects that must be initiated immediately," Lie Fan began, leaning slightly forward. "They are technological leaps that will secure the empire for the next thousand—"

"I apologize, Your Majesty, but absolutely not," Mi Zhu interrupted.

The words hung in the air, heavy and incredibly dangerous.

For a fraction of a second, absolute silence reigned in the office. Interrupting the Emperor was a direct violation of imperial protocol, an offense that, in lesser courts, would result in immediate flogging or execution.

Lie Fan blinked, slightly taken aback by the uncharacteristic bluntness of his Minister. He didn’t erupt in anger, instead, a flicker of genuine surprise crossed his face. He leaned back in his chair, studying Mi Zhu intently.

Mi Zhu realized what he had just done. The color instantly drained from his face, leaving him as pale as parchment. He swallowed hard, his hands trembling slightly, but he did not drop to his knees to beg for mercy. He stood his ground, his mercantile pragmatism warring with his terror of the throne.

"Forgive my insolence, Your Imperial Majesty," Mi Zhu said, his voice shaking but his eyes locked onto Lie Fan’s. "I overstepped. I spoke out of turn. But... the reality of the ledgers does not care for imperial protocol. You cannot initiate two new continent spanning projects. The treasury cannot bear it."

Lie Fan steepled his fingers, his expression unreadable. "Is the condition of the imperial treasury truly that dire, Master Mi Zhu? Have we not consolidated the wealth of the entire mainland and all of our domains outside of the mainland?"

"We have, Your Majesty," Mi Zhu nodded, stepping over to his massive desk and pulling a heavy, red bound ledger from the top of a stack. He brought it over to the tea table, opening it with a heavy sigh.

"The wealth of the Hengyuan Dynasty is unprecedented in the entirety of the history of this land," Mi Zhu explained, his voice gaining strength as he fell back into the comfortable, absolute reality of numbers. "But our expenditures are equally astronomical. The conclusion of the southwestern campaign was a military victory, yes, but stabilizing the Samatata proxy state required a massive injection of imperial silver to standardize their currency and rebuild their infrastructure. We are still paying for the rebuilding of the delta."

Mi Zhu flipped a thick section of pages, pointing to columns of densely packed figures.

"And then, Your Majesty, there is the Great Wall," Mi Zhu continued, a note of genuine administrative despair creeping into his voice. "The western expansion... driving a wall of stone and iron through mountains and swamps... it is consuming resources at a rate that terrifies my auditors. We are paying fair wages in silver to hundreds of thousands of laborers. We are feeding them. We are purchasing the black powder, the iron for the steam cranes, the coal for the Water Dragons. And simultaneously, we are funding the massive renovation of the northern Great Walls to ensure it stays strong."

Mi Zhu closed the heavy ledger with a dull thud.

"The taxes flowing in from the provinces are immense, Your Majesty," Mi Zhu concluded, looking directly into Lie Fan’s eyes. "But every single copper coin is already allocated. The rest is required to maintain the standing legions, pay the bureaucracy, and fund the Imperial Academies. We have carefully rotated the remaining margins to maintain a strictly controlled surplus, an emergency fund, in case of a catastrophic flood or a sudden invasion from foolish enemies. That surplus cannot be touched for new ventures. If we initiate more massive projects now, we will be forced to deficit spend, devaluing our currency and inviting economic collapse."

Lie Fan listened in silence, his sharp mind absorbing the financial reality. He respected Mi Zhu immensely. The man was not hoarding gold for his own amusement, he was desperate in trying to keep the economic engine of a aggressive empire from overheating and blowing apart.

"So, the margins are that razor thin, and the emergency surplus is locked," Lie Fan summarized slowly. He looked at Mi Zhu. "Are you telling me, Minister, that truly nothing can be spared? Not even for projects that would fundamentally alter the speed and efficiency of the empire?"

Mi Zhu shook his head tightly, a rigid, unwavering motion. "I am telling you, Your Majesty, that squeezing water from a stone is easier than squeezing another million taels of silver from this current budget."

Mi Zhu paused, his curiosity finally overcoming his administrative despair. "If I may ask, Your Majesty... what exactly are these two new projects that you deem so vital?"

Lie Fan leaned forward, the visionary fire returning to his eyes.

"The first is the Imperial Optical Telegraph," Lie Fan detailed, his voice dropping into a low, intense rhythm. "A network of towering, steam powered mechanical masts placed every fifteen miles across the continent. Utilizing a complex numerical cipher, they can transmit detailed military and administrative intelligence from the western borders directly to this city in a matter of hours, without the needs of the couriers or messenger birds relays entirely."

Mi Zhu’s eyes widened slightly, his sharp mind instantly grasping the terrifying administrative power of instant communication. "And the second one, Your Majesty?" Mi Zhu asked, his breath catching slightly as he heard about the Optical Telegraph.

______________________________

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