84: Chapter 84 Zhao Heng Ascends the Throne

The capital of the Great Li Dynasty.

The third year of Prince Anping Zhao Yansi's reign.

This puppet emperor finally reached his end.

The cause was an utterly absurd, trivial matter.

After Xue Du broke through to the Golden Core Great Perfection, its cultivation grew rapidly, showing faint signs of touching the threshold of the Nascent Soul stage.

But the threshold of the Nascent Soul is incredibly high; a single cauldron with an Extreme Yin Physique is far from enough.

Xue Du needed more resources and more Blood Tribute.

It issued a new order to Prince Anping Zhao Yansi to triple the collection amount of Blood Tribute.

Three times.

This meant that the number of Mortal sent into the Blood Refining Workshop within the borders of Great Li would skyrocket from ten million to thirty million per year!

Thirty million young adults and children a year!

This was no longer just cutting off flesh; this was meant to drain the very bone marrow of the Great Li Dynasty!

Therefore, when Prince Anping Zhao Yansi received this order, he hesitated for a rare moment.

It was not because he had developed a conscience.

It was because he knew very well that tripling the Blood Tribute would inevitably trigger large-scale civil unrest.

Civil unrest meant turmoil, and turmoil meant that his seat as emperor would not be secure.

If the seat was not secure, he would be useless.

A useless dog has only one fate.

So, he hesitated for three whole days.

On the night of the third day, he did something foolish.

He entrusted someone to convey a memorial to Xue Du, phrased with extreme caution and respect, the gist of which was:

"Could the triple Blood Tribute be implemented gradually over three years, so as to avoid inciting civil unrest and instead affecting your grand undertaking, My Lord?"

This was a suggestion that, in his view, was extremely reasonable.

But in Xue Du's eyes, this was a dog questioning its master's decision.

On the morning of the fourth day.

Prince Anping Zhao Yansi was dragged into the Black Iron Spire.

Xue Du did not give him a chance to kneel and beg for mercy.

A stream of demonic energy pierced through his chest, blasting his heart and most of his chest cavity into fragments.

Prince Anping Zhao Yansi fell in the exact same spot as Zhao Chengqian.

The fresh blood on his dragon robe mingled with the dark red stain from three years ago that had not yet been completely scrubbed away.

Two generations of puppet emperors.

Three years apart.

They died on the same stone tile.

The same fate, the same irony.

...

When the news of Prince Anping Zhao Yansi's death reached the imperial palace, Zhao Heng was practicing swordplay in the East Garden.

His hand stopped.

The tip of his sword hung in mid-air, motionless.

After the eunuch beside him finished trembling as he delivered the report, he knelt on the ground, not daring to look up.

Zhao Heng was silent for a long time.

Then, he sheathed his sword.

His expression was extremely calm, as calm as a pool of stagnant water, showing no ripples whatsoever.

"Understood."

He said.

These three words were exactly the same as what his father had said three years ago when he heard the news of his mother's death.

After the eunuch retreated, Zhao Heng stood alone in the courtyard.

The autumn wind swept up a few fallen leaves, brushing across his young face, which was already etched with forbearance.

He did not shed any tears.

It was not because he was not sad.

It was because he had long been prepared for this day to come.

It could even be said that he had been waiting for this day for too long.

His father was dead.

The demon needed a new dog.

There were so many spineless people in the Great Li imperial clan that this throne might not necessarily have fallen to a young boy like him.

But Xue Du had directly named Zhao Heng.

Because it remembered that over the past three years, whenever the Crown Prince accompanied his father to meet it...

...he would bury his head deep in the dust, his very breathing exuding absolute submissiveness.

In Xue Du's eyes, this was a fledgling who was even more cowardly, more docile, and easier to manipulate than his father.

A new puppet, a new watchdog.

But what Xue Du did not know was...

...the "dog" it had chosen this time had teeth much sharper than it imagined.

And one day, it would not hesitate to bite back at its master!

...

The moment he received the decree from the Black Iron Spire, Zhao Heng locked all his killing intent and ambition deep within his heart.

He took off his plain white mourning clothes and put on the dragon robe that seemed to still be soaked with the blood of the previous two puppet emperors.

Step by step, he walked toward the center of power he had been enduring and planning for so long.

The funeral bells and the celebratory bells of the capital rang out in an absurd intertwining on this day.

Zhao Heng ascended the throne.

The reign title was Yongning.

An extremely ironic reign title.

In a world ruled by demons, the two characters "Yongning" were nothing more than a joke.

But Zhao Heng chose it.

Because these two characters were the maiden name of his mother.

Shen Yongning.

...

Spring, the first year of Yongning.

The seventh day after Zhao Heng ascended the throne.

Black Iron Spire, Stone Hall.

Xue Du sat on the main seat, and on the stone table in front of it lay a memorial personally presented by Zhao Heng.

On the cover of the memorial, eight characters were written in neat, tiny regular script.

"Strategy for Tripling the Collection of Blood Tribute."

Xue Du opened the memorial, its vertical pupils slowly scanning across it.

At first, it was indifferent, but the more it read, the more its pupils constricted.

The memorial was written in great detail.

It divided the Great Li territory into twelve "Transport Zones."

Each zone would have one "Transport Commissioner," directly under the Emperor's jurisdiction, bypassing local prefectures and the Zhenfu Division, specifically tasked with the collection, escort, and acceptance of Blood Tribute.

The starting point, transit points, and destination of every route, as well as the troops and supplies needed along the way, were all calculated down to specific numbers.

Even the population base of each prefecture, the ratio of suitable Blood Tribute material, and the risk level of civil unrest that might be triggered after collection were all listed one by one.

This was not a memorial.

This was a blueprint for expanding a slaughterhouse.

Xue Du closed the memorial and looked again at Zhao Heng, who was kneeling below the stone steps.

The sixteen-year-old young emperor had his head buried extremely low, his back slightly arched, his hands resting flat on his knees, breathing evenly.

Submissive, quiet, without a single unnecessary movement.

Compared to his adoptive father, who was stupid enough to use a memorial to test his master's bottom line, this new dog was indeed much more sensible.

"Were you already preparing this when you were Crown Prince?"

"In response, My Lord."

Zhao Heng did not look up, his voice steady.

"Previously, when my father was on the throne, I traveled throughout the twelve states of Great Li under the pretext of inspecting the Blood Tribute."

"I am well aware of the population registers, Blood Tribute output, and transportation bottlenecks of each state."

He paused for a moment and continued.

"Furthermore, I have discovered another issue. In the past, the annual Blood Tribute, from collection to entry into the workshop, had an on-paper loss rate as high as thirty percent."

"Two percent of which was loss due to illness during transit, while the remaining one percent was intercepted and embezzled by officials at all levels along the way, who then resold it to underground black market blood merchants."

Xue Du's vertical pupils suddenly constricted.

One percent.

Out of tens of millions of Blood Tribute every year, one percent was actually stolen by those Mortal officials?

These ants dared to steal food from their master's bowl?!

"Therefore, I propose that the twelve Transport Commissioners must be personally selected by me and report only to me."

"This will ensure that every portion of Blood Tribute is delivered to the Blood Refining Workshop in full quantity and quality, without passing through any intermediate links."

"In this way, what you actually receive, My Lord, will be far more than three times."

Xue Du was silent for a few breaths.

Then, it did something that Prince Anping Zhao Yansi had never received in his three years on the throne.

It nodded.

"Not bad."

Only two words.

But coming from Xue Du's mouth, it was heavier than any reward.

The few demons standing to the side changed expressions slightly, and their gazes toward Zhao Heng held a hint of re-evaluation.

"You decide the candidates for the Transport Commissioners yourself."

"Within three months, I want to see the first batch of triple Blood Tribute enter the workshop."

Zhao Heng kowtowed once.

"I obey, My Lord."

He stood up and exited the Stone Hall with steady steps, without the slightest stumble.

It was not until he walked out of the shadow of the Black Iron Spire and stepped back onto the bluestone avenue of the imperial palace...

...that Zhao Heng slowly unclenched his fists, which he had been gripping tightly in his sleeves.

His nails had already dug deep into his palms, leaving eight crescent-shaped wounds oozing with beads of blood.

He had obtained the power of the Transport Commissioners.

This meant he could legitimately plant his own people in the twelve states across the country.

Nominally, they were lackeys collecting Blood Tribute for the demons.

In reality, they were secret agents of the Resistance Army.

But the price was that every number on the memorial had to be true.

Triple the Blood Tribute, full quantity and full quality, not a single one could be missing.

If even one were missing, Xue Du would become suspicious.

Suspicion meant death.

Not only would he die, but the entire network would be buried with him.