Within the Great Baohua Pure Land, the clouds suddenly shifted and the sky transformed. Thunder crackled from the void, and a thunderbolt struck downward, collapsing a corner of the Sutra Repository!
The monks, young and old alike, were thrown into panic. Several elderly monks were even frightened to tears, weeping as they murmured, "The Dharma-Ending Age... it is truly the Dharma-Ending Age!"
Suddenly, countless golden lotuses blossomed across the empty air. Chants of Zen and Buddhist hymns echoed in rolling waves. An immeasurable golden radiance originated from a single point, spreading boundlessly until it blanketed the entire vault of heaven.
Several monks whose bodies were cast in pure gold and whose heads were haloed in light flew over, alighting motionlessly around the Scripture Hall. Moments later, numerous lotus pedestals manifested above, revealing several towering, majestic silhouettes of Buddhas.
In a corner down below, a little monk as fair and handsome as a maiden stole a glance upward. He suddenly realized that those Buddha figures were not seated upon empty air.
Rather, they sat atop an incomparably colossal mountain densely covered in lotus thrones—and the vast majority of those lotus pedestals were empty!
Of those vacant pedestals, most were enveloped in thick black miasma and bloodstains, with only a scant few still retaining a faint glimmer.
The little monk was horrified. This was unmistakably a scene following an apocalyptic catastrophe, bearing no resemblance to the Buddhist sutras and entirely contrary to what his masters taught daily. He whispered to the young monk beside him, "Master, why are so many lotus pedestals on the mountain empty?"
The young monk hissed in a low voice, "There are plenty of eyes watching from above—stop looking around! And above all, don't breathe a word of this! Having so many empty lotus pedestals is a good thing. Otherwise, when would your turn ever come?"
The little monk fell silent, only stealing surreptitious glances. In midair, various Vajras and Arhats revealed their Dharma bodies, and Bodhisattvas manifested their true forms. It was said that an Arhat's spiritual attainment in the mortal realm was equivalent to an immortal. At this moment, more than a dozen Arhats and Bodhisattvas had revealed themselves in the Pure Land alone.
The little monk could not help feeling perplexed. It was said that the Palace of Grand Beginning had only two immortals. If that were so, the Great Baohua Pure Land should have swept across the world long ago. How could they have let the Palace of Grand Beginning claim the title of the premier immortal sect?
Invisible gazes swept across the Scripture Pavilion one after another, yet the Bodhisattvas remained silent, rendering the atmosphere suffocatingly oppressive.
After a moment, a Bodhisattva seated on high finally spoke: "Take inventory of every scripture. Identify all that are missing and any that are newly appeared. Those whose names are called shall remain; the rest may return to their daily duties."
Several monks clad in kasayas immediately walked over and began reciting monastic names. Those called were to enter the Scripture Hall to verify the texts.
"Huixing. Honglian."
Upon hearing their names called, the young monk and the little monk stepped forward together to stand before a portly monk. The fat monk cast a glance at the little monk, frowning slightly in disgust as he said, "Huixing, how many times have I told you not to invent dharma names for your disciple as you please? What kind of name is 'Honglian'—Red Lotus? It does not follow our disciple lineage generation names at all! Change it at once."
The young monk, whose dharma name was Huixing, replied, "Right away, I'll change it right away!" With that, he dragged the little monk toward the Scripture Hall. The fat monk shook his head, knowing this fellow was merely trying to muddle through; heaven only knew when he would actually bother to change it.
Before stepping past the hall threshold, the little monk felt a sudden premonition. He looked up, only to see that atop Spirit Mountain beyond the void, a lotus pedestal that had previously possessed a faint golden shimmer suddenly fractured. Its Buddhist light vanished into nothingness, while dark miasma began billowing continuously from the cracks.
An indescribable sensation welled up in the little monk's heart, but Huixing yanked him into the hall before he could dwell on it. Huixing kept his voice down: "Whatever you saw just now, not a word of it to anyone! Remember that well!"
Though puzzled, the little monk had always respected his master, so he nodded.
As the two stepped inside, the scenery shifted before their eyes. Rows of bookshelves several zhang tall and dozens of zhang wide stretched into seemingly infinite distance. One of the shelves had been shattered to pieces, scattering scriptures all over the floor, some of which were still burning.
The young monk steered clear of the burning bookshelf and headed for a remote corner. He casually drew out a volume and began flipping through it. Little monk Honglian followed suit.
Just then, a sigh sounded from behind the bookshelf. Someone murmured, "Fruits of attainment were scarce to begin with, and now another is gone!"
Another aged voice replied, "It is different this time. A new spiritual fruit has clearly emerged, causing the old one to disperse."
"Yet the new spiritual fruit does not reside on Spirit Mountain..."
"—Mind your words!"
After a brief silence, the aged voice whispered, "Who could have imagined that someone would actually make such a magnificent vow? It is only natural for the old fruit to shatter."
They fell silent and prepared to depart. When the two elderly monks rounded the bookshelf, they came face-to-face with the young monk and the boy. All four shaved heads froze for a moment; none had expected fellow disciples to be lurking in this out-of-the-way corner. Then, placing their palms together in mutual greeting, they went their separate ways as though nothing had happened.
***
Though Wei Yuan was physically in Guantun County, most of his attention remained focused on Qingming.
It was already late autumn, and the general outline of Qingming's progress for the year had become clear. The reports submitted to Wei Yuan now included projections for the entire year.
So far in the second year of Hongjing, Qingming had gone over a full year without war. It was said that many former mounted bandits had grown bellies so large they could no longer see their own toes.
Perfected Chuhe shuttled tirelessly between the State of Ji and Qingming, making a round trip every few days.
In Qingming, Perfected Chuhe had already expanded cultivated farmland to forty million mu. The new fields were planted with medicinal herbs, hemp, cotton, and even pasture grass. Originally, Perfected Chuhe had not wanted to grow grain, but at Wei Yuan's firm insistence, he had still turned half of the land into grain fields.
This resulted in Qingming's grain reserves exceeding ten billion jin. Yu Zhizhuo was forced to open two new canning workshops, where steamed rice was mixed evenly with fish, meat, and vegetables before being packed tightly into iron barrels. Once sealed, each barrel weighed one thousand jin and could be stored for five years.
Daoist Chuhe continued planning for a fifth ten-million-mu parcel, while simultaneously tending to the immortal chicken and surveying the mountain folk's territory.
The mountain folk's realm was an entirely different world. Once the old Daoist figured out how to cultivate fields there, it would be equivalent to comprehending a new heavenly Dao. Combined with Qingming and the immortal chicken, he would command three heavenly paths all at once—he wouldn't even have enough legs to walk them all.
Back in the Hall of Jianmu, the cultivators finally realized that Patriarch Huangyun truly possessed brilliant foresight back then, singling out Chuhe when he had been a complete nobody.
While Qingming's internal development went exceedingly well, foreign trade figures showed a distinct decline. This drop infuriated Wei Yuan, but looking closer, he pinpointed the cause.
Not long ago, the King of Zhao had issued a third currency: the Void Currency. But this time, far fewer people fell for it. Or to put it another way, the State of Zhao had run out of fools.
With the issuance of Void Currency faltering, vast amounts ended up stuck in the King of Zhao's own hands. In the black market, the price plummeted from the official rate of one coin to one tael of immortal silver down to one hundred and fifty coins for a single mace of immortal silver. Had the King of Zhao not decreed that all who held imperial scholarly titles or noble rank were forbidden from selling and could only buy, the Void Currency would have literally plunged into the void.
The collapse of the Void Currency dragged down the two previous currencies as well. As a consequence, all thirty-six currencies circulating within Zhao tumbled in unison, and even Li Chengfeng's Bishui currency lost eighty percent of its value.
Li Chengfeng wrote multiple letters to Wei Yuan complaining about the situation, and wrote to Zhang Sheng as well, but to no avail. The Qingyuan Zhang Sheng had previously exchanged had long since run out. Now, if Li Chengfeng wanted new Qingyuan, he had to trade at prevailing market rates. Yet when Li Chengfeng finally relented and offered to exchange at an eight-to-one ratio, he discovered that the Qingming Bank refused to accept Bishui currency altogether.
Upon further inquiry, Li Chengfeng learned that the Qingming Bank was no longer accepting any currency from the State of Zhao at all. The bank made it crystal clear to the emissary Li Chengfeng had sent: past quotas were exhausted, and if he wanted new allocations, he had to seek approval from Zhang Sheng or Wei Yuan himself.
How would Li Chengfeng dare approach Zhang Sheng? He could only write to Wei Yuan. Wei Yuan approved ten million on two separate occasions, after which Li Chengfeng felt too ashamed to write a third letter.
Without an influx of Qingyuan, chaos reigned across the State of Zhao, and prices skyrocketed. And the worse the turmoil grew, the faster each issuing party printed more money. Nobody was a fool; everyone realized that it had turned into a race—whoever printed the most and the fastest could snap up more real goods before prices adjusted. Lag behind by even a step, and all that would be left in the market was worthless paper.
As a result, many ordinary well-off households and small workshop owners watched the assorted currencies in their hands turn to scrap paper in the blink of an eye, weeping without tears.
Then the King of Zhao discovered that the State of Zhao's reserves of immortal silver were virtually depleted, while Qingyuan was flowing out at an accelerating pace. Though Qingyuan stopped appreciating on the black market, it still commanded one tael and six mace of immortal silver per unit—stubbornly resilient.
No matter how he racked his brains, the King of Zhao could not comprehend why Qingyuan stayed so strong while his own currencies repeatedly failed. He was the king! What was Wei Yuan? Nothing more than a commoner by birth, barely better than an untouchable. Even now, he was merely a military commissioner. Why did the common people trust him rather than their own sovereign?
Yet regardless of his incomprehension, the King of Zhao understood the purchasing power of Qingyuan. With Qingyuan in hand, one could convert it into immortal silver or spend it directly. In an effort to stabilize his domestic situation, the King of Zhao had no choice but to close the trade corridor with Qingming once again.
If he did not shut it, the Qingyuan within Zhao's borders would flood back into Qingming in an unstoppable torrent.
And so, Qingming's trade numbers took an ugly hit. Although Western Jin had completely lowered its defenses toward Qingming, the scale of Jin was not yet large enough to absorb all of Qingming's goods.
More importantly, Wei Yuan could scarcely find anything worth buying from outside.
Without sufficient goods purchased from abroad, the current economic structure was distorted and unsustainable. Trade with Zhao had previously expanded to cover thirty percent of its territory, and Wei Yuan had planned to cover the entire realm within a year or two, turning the State of Zhao into a supplier of raw materials and displaced refugees for Qingming. But the King of Zhao's sudden border closure directly thwarted Wei Yuan's plan.
Wei Yuan collected his thoughts, calm and composed. Only when his mind was as still as water did he begin to examine the current state of affairs.
Within the Smoke and Fire of the Mortal World, he established two thousand tasks simultaneously, scrutinizing every facet and its potential consequences. The advantages of his heartscape world evolving toward Scenery Command finally came to the fore: Wei Yuan could juggle two thousand tasks with effortless ease—even Feng Tingyu could have done no better.
Moreover, he still had strength to spare; adding a dozen more tasks wouldn't have strained him in the least.
Before long, Wei Yuan reached his conclusion. He penned letters to the Palace of Grand Beginning, addressed separately to Xuanyue, the Master of the Hall of the Bright King, and most importantly, Immortal Monarch Yanshi.
His second letter was addressed to the King of Zhao. It had a single core message: to avoid harming the friendship between Qingming and Zhao, he advised the King of Zhao to reopen the border passes immediately; otherwise, the State of Zhao would bear full responsibility for all consequences arising therefrom.
Wei Yuan then issued orders to mobilize the First and Second Legions into full combat readiness.
Once all preparations were complete, Wei Yuan spread out a fresh sheet of paper, unrolled a map, and, referencing the terrain before him, began drafting a document himself.
The King of Zhao dared to seal his borders? Did he think Qingming didn't have enough cannons, or that they weren't sharp enough? Thus, Wei Yuan resolved to launch a short, sharp war and blast open the gates of the State of Zhao with heavy artillery!
With his mind made up, Wei Yuan wrote a single line across the paper: *The Qing-Zhao Treaty of Friendship, Commerce, and Navigation.*
Chapter 976