When displaced refugees relocated to Qingming and lived there for a while, they gradually integrated into the realm, offering a minute boost to the Smoke and Fire of the Mortal World as well. An increase from one or two people was imperceptible, but once their numbers reached into the millions, the effect became pronounced. Now that ten million people had flooded in all at once, the borders of the Smoke and Fire of the Mortal World began expanding again, naturally dragging down the progress of Wei Yuan's cultivation once more.
Yet Wei Yuan had no intention of stopping there. After all, the three commanderies, including Xiangrong, still held numerous prominent clans and powerful gentry. Like individual independent kingdoms, they bound the people tightly to the land, forbidding them from moving.
Wei Yuan first severed travel and communication into and out of the three commanderies, then cut off their grain imports. He sent numerous scouts to monitor the people's living conditions, only to discover that people were beginning to starve to death in many places. Yet the clans remained completely unmoved, preferring to watch people starve rather than allow them to leave the land.
Seeing that this strategy was ineffective, Wei Yuan had no choice but to resort to harsher measures.
After reorganizing and incorporating Hanyang and Huangping Commanderies, Wei Yuan returned to the Southern Military Camp. A grand army of a hundred thousand was garrisoned here, stockpiled with nearly a year's worth of grain and fodder. During the time Wei Yuan had been trapped in the illusion realm, the State of Zhao had probed with several attacks, all of which had ended in heavy losses for them.
In the central tent of the camp, Wei Yuan looked at the special map before him, his brows knit tightly. The parcels of land, large and small, were painted in different colors, each patch representing a family or aristocratic clan.
Under the Tang Code, these civil official families were required to pay taxes, though not much. The prominent aristocratic houses paid even less—not even ten percent of their annual output. Under the Jin Code, however, civil officials did not have to pay taxes at all. This Jin statute had been enacted fifty years ago, and in that short span of time, Xiangrong Commandery had reached the point where practically no silver could be collected.
Xiangrong's commandery governor, Zhuang Zhong, had been buried alive by Wei Yuan, yet the other families still stood as solid as iron. Even Wei Yuan cutting off grain proved useless. Every household had grain reserves; though certainly not enough to feed all the tenant farmers working their land, it could feed the master's household until the end of time. Thus, each clan possessed boundless patience. As for whether the tenant farmers tilling the soil lived or died, the masters could not care less—and besides, all the blame could easily be pushed onto Wei Yuan's head.
Faced with such an impasse, Wei Yuan was momentarily at a loss. He had also consulted his aides, but many civil officials chorused in unison that taxing scholars was an egregious blunder, a perverse outrage against the natural order.
From this, Wei Yuan understood that once people had self-interest beneath their backsides, they were welded in place. Without resorting to iron and blood, one could never hope to budge them an inch.
Only two paths lay before Wei Yuan now. The first was to amend the Jin Code. But that route was clearly a dead end: the King of Jin was approaching his twilight years, and what he prized above all was his posthumous reputation. If this Jin statute were repealed and scholars were taxed once more, one could easily imagine how the history books would depict him. Consequently, even when Wei Yuan proposed revising the Jin Code, the King of Jin flatly rejected it.
The second path was the ravages of war. Historical annals recorded that a certain demonic cultivator once sought official honors and rank, but having no backing, found every avenue of advancement closed to him.
After repeatedly failing the civil examinations, he witnessed a chaotic world where the common people had no means to live. In his fury, he took up arms, assaulted the secondary capital of the ruling dynasty at the time, and began slaughtering the prominent clans. One prestigious clan of over ten thousand members was butchered down to the last two young children—and those two survived only because they were illegitimate children whose existence was unknown to the world.
However, this demonic cultivator's actions were so ruthless that they drew the intervention of an immortal; he was defeated and killed. Yet after him, of the fifteen prestigious clans of that era, two saw so many of their younger generation slaughtered—every single talented descendant eradicated—that they fell into ruin.
The attitude of these clans was unyielding; many of their people had been locked in the dungeons for more than half a year, yet still refused to bow their heads. The Right Prime Minister had even arranged another marriage for his granddaughter, treating this former grandson-in-law as if he were already dead.
After hearing all the reports on the situation, Wei Yuan fell into deep thought, standing before the map for an entire day.
Not until the following morning did the statue-like Wei Yuan's expression shift. He pointed at the hundred and sixteen largest families on the map and said, "Invite the patriarchs of these families to the camp to discuss matters. I want to see them at this exact hour three days from now, without a single one missing."
A general asked, "What if someone refuses to come?"
Wei Yuan said indifferently, "Refusing to come is contempt of this commissioner. I do not care whether they are willing or not; three days from now, not a single one may be missing. If a living person won't come, a corpse will do."
Receiving their orders, the generals led their troops out of the camp at once. For a time, cries, wails, and curses rang throughout the three commanderies, and a steady stream of people headed to the capital to lodge complaints.
Three days later, at noon, Wei Yuan emerged from the back hall and took his seat in the military affairs tent. Inside stood over ninety people, alongside a dozen corpses.
Wei Yuan asked, "What of the remaining households?"
"Replying to Your Excellency, those households abandoned their lands and fled. There was no one left in their estates."
Wei Yuan swept his gaze over the clan heads and suddenly smiled. "I cut off your grain for more than half a year, yet you patriarchs are still glowing with ruddy health, plump and well-fed. It seems ordinary measures truly cannot deal with you!"
One man immediately shouted, "Wei Yuan! Implementing such a venomous scheme and plunging the people into misery—are you not afraid of karmic retribution?!"
Wei Yuan was not angry. "Whether retribution finds me is hard to say, but you are about to meet your misfortune."
That clan head was actually fearless, sneering, "Do you know who I am?! Let me tell you, my clan uncle is—"
With a wave of Wei Yuan's hand, someone standing nearby raised a blade and brought it down, lopping off the clan head's head on the spot. Cries of horror erupted from the crowd; their faces finally drained of color.
Wei Yuan said indifferently, "Unless your family's backer is of the first rank, or you are closely related to an immortal, do not bother mentioning your background. Doing so will only court death. I summoned everyone here today not for your money, nor for your land, but taxes must still be paid. You may use people to offset the tax—one able-bodied adult for three taels of mortal silver.
"I do not care where these people come from, so long as there are people. Send someone back to deliver the message now. Eat your fill today, for this will be your last meal. The next meal will be after I see the people. If there are no people, you may stay hungry."
Wei Yuan then departed, leaving the clan heads staring at one another. Although many families had signed an offensive and defensive alliance swearing never to pay taxes, Wei Yuan was asking for people this time—and that sounded rather acceptable.
Only land remained eternal for ten thousand years. People, on the other hand, were like wild weeds in the fields: reap one crop, and another would follow, sprouting anew in a few years. Thus, many clan heads wavered and wrote letters home, instructing their households to take stock of the tenant farmers and hand people over to offset the taxes.
After tying up the loose ends in the three commanderies, Wei Yuan returned to the Smoke and Fire of the Mortal World. By now, progress within the world fragment had reached the scheduled milestone. A loop of road illuminated by lamplight had been constructed, cordoning off a section of land a thousand zhang across.
Wei Yuan personally led a party of nearly a thousand cultivators to thoroughly clear the cordoned-off section, slaying every hidden monster and resentful soul within and reaping three strands of Dao profound qi.
The roads continued to be built forward. Every time a thousand zhang of road was completed, construction would branch out to both sides and then loop back, dividing the world fragment into isolated thousand-zhang squares. Wei Yuan would then purge them grid by grid.
Beside the light portal, a decently sized small city had already been erected. Throughout the city, furnace lamps burning karmic luck were everywhere, allowing anyone—even those who had just entered the Dao Foundation realm—to walk freely about the city. Mortals with no cultivation whatsoever could move about indoors.
Many individuals possessed extraordinary intellect despite mediocre cultivation. Once these people were able to enter the world fragment, they pushed research progress forward drastically, piecing together the original state of this world bit by bit.
As the roads continued to advance, a hundred-zhang-tall building appeared before Wei Yuan. Its upper half had long since been destroyed, making it impossible to tell how tall it had originally been. Yet merely looking at what remained was enough to evoke marvel at the uncanny craftsmanship of the otherworldly architecture.
In front of the building lay an open space, now entirely foul black mud. Having experienced the illusion realm, Wei Yuan knew this open space must once have been a lawn like brocade. In the otherworldly realm where every inch of soil was worth an inch of gold, such a vast lawn had been a symbol of wealth.
A rectangular wall still stood amidst the mud, bearing several characters that likely spelled the building's name. However, Wei Yuan did not recognize a single one of these characters and could only have them copied and sent to the rear for study.
Just then, a beam of light fell across Wei Yuan's face. He looked up, only to discover that lights were actually still on in some of the building's floors.
Wei Yuan suddenly felt his hair stand on end.
Chapter 776