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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
He stopped directly in front of the arrogant steward of Wu, who was currently sweating profusely, suddenly very aware of the razor sharp halberd hovering mere inches from his throat. "If any man in this room raises his voice to an imperial scribe again," the Captain continued, his words falling like heavy stones, "if any man utters a single threat, or attempts to draw a weapon... you will not merely be physically thrown from this building and beaten in the streets."
"If any man in this room raises his voice to an imperial scribe again," the Captain continued, his words falling like heavy stones, "if any man utters a single threat, or attempts to draw a weapon... you will not merely be physically thrown from this building and beaten in the streets."
The Captain leaned in closer, ensuring that his next words carried the absolute, terrifying weight of total social and political ruin.
"I will personally take your master's name," the Captain hissed, "and I will have it reported directly to Chancellor Jia Xu. Your master's estate, his entire bloodline, and his entire province will be permanently, irrevocably stricken from the imperial ledgers. You will be blacklisted from the monopoly. You will never, ever be allowed to purchase a single bar of soap or a single vial of shampoo for the rest of your natural lives."
The threat hung in the air, heavy, suffocating, and utterly devastating.
To a commoner, a ban on soap might seem like a minor inconvenience. But to the elite? To the fabulously wealthy lords who had built their entire existences upon the strict, unyielding hierarchy of social status? It was a fate worse than death.
If a duke or a vassal king was permanently banned from the monopoly, while their rivals and their peers bathed in the heavenly scents of jasmine and lotus, they would become the absolute laughingstock of the unified world.
Their courts would smell of sweat and harsh ash while their enemies smelled of blooming gardens. Their wives and concubines would revolt. Their political prestige would shatter overnight.
And all because their arrogant servant threw a tantrum at a wooden desk.
The stark, horrifying realization of what a permanent ban would mean for their masters completely broke the spirit of the stewards. The fight drained entirely out of them. They looked at the heavy halberds, they looked at the stoic clerks, and they surrendered.
"I... I apologize, Captain," the steward of Wu stammered, bowing so deeply he nearly folded in half, his arrogance completely shattered. "It was a momentary lapse in judgment. I meant no disrespect to the imperial scribes. Please, forget my outburst."
The tribal emissary hastily removed his hand from his dagger entirely, nodding his head vigorously in submission. The chamberlains of the central plains cast their eyes to the floor in absolute, terrified compliance.
The Captain stared at them for a long, heavy moment, ensuring the lesson had truly sunk into their bones. Satisfied, he stepped back, sheathing his broadsword with a sharp clack.
"Resume the processing," the Captain ordered the clerks.
The transformation within the grand hall was instantaneous and miraculous.
The chaos, the shouting, and the threats entirely vanished, replaced by the smooth, quiet, incredibly efficient hum of supreme bureaucracy. The stewards stepped up to the mahogany desks with their heads bowed, speaking in hushed, polite tones.
When the clerks informed them that their orders of a thousand bars were being slashed to a hundred, the stewards simply nodded gratefully, accepting the artificial scarcity without a single word of protest.
They handed over their heavy chests of silver and their sacks of gold with trembling hands. The clerks weighed the precious metals, recorded the transactions, and stamped the official requisition papers with the heavy bronze seals.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
The sound of the abacus beads moving returned to the hall, a rhythmic, steady heartbeat of unimaginable wealth flowing directly into the veins of the Hengyuan Dynasty. The process became a flawlessly smooth conveyor belt of commerce. There were no more scenes. There was only the absolute, unbreakable submission to the Emperor's economic law.
High above the floor, standing in the shadows of a sweeping interior stone balcony that overlooked the entire grand receiving hall, Mi Zhu watched the dramatic confrontation unfold.
As the Captain of the Guard delivered the ultimate threat, and the arrogant nobles were reduced to compliant, polite supplicants, Mi Zhu slowly nodded his head, a look of profound, unadulterated satisfaction settling deeply over his features.
He leaned his forearms against the cool marble balustrade, looking down at the mountains of raw silver and gold bullion rapidly piling up behind the mahogany desks.
"Brilliant," Mi Zhu whispered to himself, his mercantile heart swelling with an almost religious reverence for his sovereign. "Absolutely, terrifyingly brilliant. He didn't just create a product. He created a dependency, and then he weaponized the scarcity. They are practically begging us to take their gold, and they are terrified we might say no."
The Minister of Revenue watched the smooth operation for a few minutes longer, ensuring that the heavy guard maintained their perimeter and the clerks maintained their strict quotas. The wealth of the old world was being methodically, legally drained into the treasuries of the new one.
Satisfied that the aristocratic monopoly trap was perfectly sprung, Mi Zhu turned away from the balustrade. The wealthy lords and the vassal kings were being handled. Now, it was time to execute the second, and arguably far more important, phase of the Emperor's grand design.
He stepped back into the quiet, dimly lit corridor behind the balcony, gesturing with a single finger.
Immediately, a young, sharply dressed aide stepped out of the shadows. He was a bright, highly capable protégé personally trained by Mi Zhu in the complex, unforgiving arts of imperial economics.
"Minister," the aide bowed respectfully, holding a blank ledger to his chest.
"The nobility has been broken to the saddle. The luxury variants are securing our treasury," Mi Zhu instructed, his voice dropping into a low, focused murmur. "It is time to unleash the true power of this creation. It is time to introduce the foundational soap to the lifeblood of the empire."
Mi Zhu pointed toward the outer walls of the building, toward the bustling, sprawling, common markets of Xiapi that were just beginning to awaken after the three day holiday.
"Send word to the secondary distribution centers in the outer city districts," Mi Zhu commanded softly. "Begin the immediate rollout of the base lye soap and the standard shampoo to the common people of the capital. Have the town criers position themselves at every major intersection. I want it explicitly, loudly announced that this is a direct, personal gift of health and longevity from His Imperial Majesty to the hardworking citizens of Hengyuan."
The aide nodded quickly, his brush poised to take down the specific economic parameters. "And the pricing structure, Minister? How do we differentiate it from the luxury stock?"
"We enforce a strict, heavily subsidized tiered pricing system, exactly as the Emperor mandated," Mi Zhu explained, his eyes narrowing as he mentally balanced the ledgers.
"The wealthy lords down there are paying in raw gold and silver ingots for the privilege of smelling like a blooming spring garden of jasmine and lotus," Mi Zhu noted dryly. "The common soap will be sold for mere copper coins. It must be cheap enough that the lowest street sweeper, the poorest farmer, and the rawest military recruit can easily afford to purchase a bar for their families without hesitation."
The aide frowned slightly, a look of mild concern crossing his face. "But Minister... the base lye soap, without the heavy floral infusions... the natural scent of the rendered tallow and the chemical alkaline is incredibly harsh. It possesses a sharp, medicinal odor. Some of the test subjects in the workshop complained that it was slightly difficult to breathe when lathered heavily in enclosed spaces. Will the common people accept it?"
Mi Zhu smiled, a warm, profoundly practical expression. He understood the delicate balance between medicine and comfort.
"The Emperor thought of that as well," Mi Zhu reassured his aide. "We are not forcing the commoners to wash with pure, burning chemicals. The foundries have been instructed to add a very small, incredibly inexpensive amount of crushed local herbs and wild mint to the base batches."
Mi Zhu held up a finger, emphasizing the brilliant nuance of the formulation.
"It is not enough of an additive to make the soap smell like a luxurious, expensive perfume. It will not compete with the aristocratic stock," Mi Zhu elaborated. "But it is just enough of a natural scent to effectively push down that harsh, medicinal lye smell. It makes the soap entirely breathable, pleasant, and crisp. It will smell like clean herbs and fresh rain, rather than a pungent apothecary."
The aide's eyes widened in understanding. It was a perfect compromise. The common people would receive the absolute, life saving, bacteria killing properties of the soap, the very properties demanded by Master Hua Tuo and Master Zhang Zhongjing to eradicate disease from the peasantry, without being subjected to the harsh, burning scent of raw industrial chemicals.
And because the scent was pleasant, but not luxurious, the arrogant nobles would continue to pay astronomical sums for the rare floral variants to maintain their elevated social status.
"It is a flawless strategy, Minister," the aide praised him quietly. "The health of the entire capital will be revolutionized within the week. I will dispatch the orders to the outer distribution centers immediately. The common markets will be flooded with the herbal stock before noon."
"See that you do," Mi Zhu nodded, clapping the young man proudly on the shoulder. "Coordinate with the Imperial Medical Board as well. Ensure that the hospitals and the military supply trains receive their bulk shipments entirely free of charge. The Emperor demands that our soldiers and our sick are protected first."
The aide bowed deeply, spinning on his heel and hurrying down the corridor to execute the sweeping, empire-altering logistics.
Mi Zhu stood alone in the corridor for a moment, listening to the muffled, rhythmic clacking of the hundreds of abacuses working simultaneously in the grand hall below him. The sound of endless silver filling the coffers was music to his ears, but the true symphony was playing out beyond the walls of the Ministry.
The Emperor had not just built a monopoly to secure the wealth of his rivals, he had built a tool to physically preserve the lives of the millions of common souls who had trusted him with their future.
As the herbal soap flowed into the dusty markets, the slums, and the military barracks of Xiapi, the invisible, deadly plagues that had decimated the Han Dynasty for centuries would slowly, inevitably, be washed away into the rivers.
As the morning sun climbed higher over the towering walls of Xiapi, the sprawling, labyrinthine outer markets of the capital began to teem with life.
The three day imperial holiday had officially concluded, but the joyous, electric atmosphere still hummed vibrantly through the bustling streets. Artisans opened their shutters, farmers unloaded heavy carts of autumn vegetables, and merchants unrolled their vibrant silks.
But this morning, a strange, entirely unprecedented anomaly disrupted the usual flow of the bazaar.
At every major intersection, public square, and bustling thoroughfare, temporary wooden stalls had been erected overnight by the Ministry of Revenue. Unlike the chaotic, shouting independent merchants, these stalls were manned by uniformed imperial clerks, flanked by the capital guard. Stacked upon the tables behind them were thousands of small, unadorned wooden crates.
The people of Xiapi stopped their morning commutes, forming massive, confused crowds around the intersections. They peered curiously at the crates. They did not understand what kind of items these were. The blocks were hard, vaguely waxy, and a pale, earthy green.
"What is it?" a weathered blacksmith muttered, crossing his thick, soot-stained arms as he stared at the imperial stall. "Is it a new kind of military ration? Dried fat?"
"Perhaps it is a warding talisman," an elderly woman whispered, clutching her woven basket. "They say the Emperor brings magic from the heavens. Maybe we are supposed to burn it to keep the winter spirits away."
The confusion rippled through the massive crowds until the official town criers, standing atop overturned wooden barrels at the center of the intersections, unrolled their heavy parchment edicts and cleared their throats.
"Citizens of Xiapi! Hear the decree of His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Hongyi!" the crier bellowed, striking a small bronze gong to demand absolute silence.
The crowds immediately hushed, bowing their heads respectfully at the mention of the sovereign.
"By the grace of the Dragon Throne, the era of sickness and filth is hereby ended!" the crier announced loudly. "What you see before you is a revolutionary creation of the imperial foundries. It is called 'Soap' for the body, and 'Shampoo' for the hair! It is not food, and it is not a charm! It is a purifying agent!"
The commoners murmured, still deeply skeptical. A purifying agent? Water had worked well enough for their ancestors, even if it didn't remove the deep grime of the forge or the fields. Why would they spend their hard earned copper coins on a block of rendered fat?
Sensing the hesitation, the crier played the ultimate, unbeatable card handed down by Mi Zhu.
"Do not simply take the word of the treasury!" the crier roared, holding the parchment high. "This miraculous item is not merely endorsed by the Emperor himself! It bears the absolute, official medical endorsement of Master Hua Tuo and Master Zhang Zhongjing!"
At the mention of those two names, a collective gasp rippled through the plaza. To the common people of the empire, Emperor Lie Fan was a terrifying, distant god of war and law. But Hua Tuo and Zhang Zhongjing? They were living, breathing saints.
They were the men who walked into plague ridden villages and pulled the dying back from the brink of the yellow springs. If Hua Tuo commanded a man to eat tree bark, the man would eat the tree bark without question.
"Master Hua Tuo declares that the invisible rot, the fevers, the sores, and the plagues that take your children in the night, breeds in the dirt upon your skin!" the crier explained, his voice ringing with passionate intensity. "This soap, infused with wild mint and medicinal herbs, binds to the invisible rot! It strips it away entirely! A clean body is a healthy body! The Emperor commands that you wash yourselves to preserve your lives!"
To demonstrate, a clerk at the stall stepped forward with a large wooden basin filled with clean water. He called up a young, incredibly grimy coal hauler from the front of the crowd.
The clerk handed the boy a bar of the pale green soap. "Rub it between your hands in the water," he instructed.
The boy, wide eyed and terrified of the imperial guards, plunged his hands into the basin. As he rubbed the bar, a thick, rich, white lather began to form. The crowd leaned in, mesmerized by the strange, foaming substance.
"Now rinse," the clerk ordered.
When the boy pulled his hands from the water, the collective crowd let out a sharp gasp. The thick, black coal dust, the grease, and the embedded dirt that usually required hours of agonizing scrubbing with coarse sand had entirely vanished. The boy's hands were completely, immaculately clean, the skin looking healthier and softer than it had in years.
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Name: Lie Fan
Title: Founding Emperor Of Hengyuan Dynasty
Age: 36 (203 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