The Hall of Heavenly Purity was abuzz with tension as officials exchanged uneasy glances. The emperor, uncharacteristically late by half a shichen (an ancient Chinese time unit), had left his dragon throne unattended—save for a mysterious black box placed beside it.
"His Majesty arrives—"
Zhu Youjian strode into the grand hall with an air of unshakable authority, a strange metallic device clipped to his waist. The ministers couldn't help but notice that the emperor looked unusually refreshed, the perpetual dark circles beneath his eyes noticeably lighter.
"My esteemed ministers," Zhu Youjian began without preamble, "the Ministry of War reported yesterday that the frontier garrison at Jizhen is short three hundred thousand taels of silver. Yang Sichang, I ask you—where has the money gone?"
Yang Sichang, Minister of War, stepped forward. "Your Majesty, this year's harsh winter—"
"Harsh winter?" The emperor sneered, then abruptly pulled out his smartphone and tapped the screen. A crisp recording played aloud: *"...Rest assured, Minister Yang. The military funds have been divided into three shares as usual. Your portion..."*
Yang Sichang's face turned ashen. He dropped to his knees. "Your Majesty! This is a demonic fabrication!"
"Fabrication?" Zhu Youjian swiped to a series of photographs—clear images of Yang Sichang counting silver taels in his private residence. "Shall I send men to search the hidden compartment in your study?"
The court erupted in murmurs. Chief Grand Secretary Wen Tiren narrowed his eyes, discreetly studying the strange object in the emperor's hand.
"Imperial Guards!" Zhu Youjian barked. "Take Yang Sichang to the prison, confiscate his assets, and replenish the military coffers!"
As the weeping minister was dragged away, the emperor scanned the assembly. "The heavens have bestowed upon me treasures that see all. Let this serve as a warning." He patted the "metal block" at his waist—in truth, a stun gun given by Xu Qing.
After court adjourned, Zhu Youjian hurried back to his quarters and opened his laptop to review surveillance footage. Twenty micro-cameras, installed by Xu Qing, now covered the Six Ministries. On screen, officials huddled in small groups, whispering about the morning's events.
"Grand Secretary Wen, His Majesty has become…" The Vice-Minister of Personnel made a strange gesture.
Wen Tiren stroked his beard. "That black device is undoubtedly a cursed artifact. I shall consult the Imperial Astronomers—"
Zhu Youjian smirked, jotting down their names. Suddenly, a faint buzzing came from outside. A drone—his "Sky Eye No. 1"—landed smoothly on the imperial desk. Its memory card contained footage of Li Zicheng's rebels forging siege weapons.
"Wang Cheng'en, summon Sun Chuanting at once!"
That night, the emperor secretly met with Luo Yangxing, commander of the Imperial Guards, and handed him a box of surveillance devices. "Plant these in the homes of Wen Tiren and his allies. I want to hear their every word."
Luo hesitated, eyeing the button-sized gadgets. "Your Majesty, these…"
"Just do it." Zhu Youjian pulled up incriminating photos on his phone—evidence of Luo's own corruption. "Unless you'd prefer a taste of prison yourself?"
The next morning, the emperor announced the restoration of the courier station system and distributed drone-mapped terrain charts to the Ministry of War. The ministers were speechless at the precision of the maps, detailing every footpath and trail.
"Your Majesty's wisdom is divine!" The newly appointed Minister of War, Lu Xiangsheng, exclaimed. "With these divine maps, troop deployment will be effortless!"
Wen Tiren suddenly stepped forward. "This old servant dares to ask—where did these heavenly gifts come from? Are they in accordance with ritual propriety—"
"Are you questioning me?" Zhu Youjian narrowed his eyes, discreetly pressing a remote in his sleeve. A live audio feed from Wen's residence streamed into his wireless earpiece—his son's voice: *"...Father, I've contacted the Celestial Master from Dragon-Tiger Mountain..."*
The emperor inwardly scoffed but smiled amiably. "Grand Secretary Wen's concern for the nation moves me. Join me tonight in the Hall of Heavenly Purity for a banquet. We shall discuss ritual propriety in detail."
Once Wen retreated, Zhu Youjian immediately ordered Luo Yangxing: "Ambush the Wen residence. Arrest his son the moment he steps out."
At the banquet, the emperor plied Wen with wine. Three rounds later, Luo rushed in and whispered into his ear. Zhu Youjian slammed his cup down. "Wen Tiren! Why was your son sneaking a Daoist priest into the palace?"
Wen, now sober with terror, stammered, "This old servant is innocent—"
"Bring them in!"
The Imperial Guards dragged in a bound Wen Yuren and a Daoist priest clutching a peachwood sword and talismans. Zhu Youjian snatched one—the characters *"Demon-Slaying"* glaring up at him.
"So! My imperial treasures are 'demonic' in your eyes?" The emperor laughed coldly. "Luo Yangxing, how much silver was seized from Wen's estate?"
"Your Majesty, one hundred eighty thousand taels, land deeds—"
"Enough!" Zhu Youjian waved his hand. "Imprison Wen Tiren and his son. Confiscate their wealth!"
With the Wen faction purged, the emperor returned to his mountain of petitions. His phone buzzed—a message from Xu Qing: *"Ready. First livestream tomorrow."*
Zhu Youjian glanced at the military reports, a smirk playing on his lips. He opened his Taobao order list—twenty tons of instant noodles, five hundred crates of antibiotics, and thirty industrial drones pending delivery.
*"This time,"* he murmured, *"I will rewrite Heaven's decree."*