"Many people don't understand—why change the laws, why start a revolution? Wasn't everything fine before? Everyone lived well, happy and harmonious. Now you've reformed, you've started a revolution, isn't it all just for your imperial ambition? You've offended the noble clans, offended the sects, just to make Everpeace's territory bigger. Now there are disasters and chaos every year, and it's all your fault, all because of reform. This is nonsense!"
Baston Prefecture. Emperor Evan was walking the streets with his civil and military ministers, watching the long lines of people waiting at government-run charity porridge stalls. He walked over to one such stall. The official distributing porridge was about to kneel, but Emperor Evan waved him off and said, "It's freezing out—no need for all those formalities. How much do you give each person?"
"Your Majesty, one bowl of rice porridge, two steamed buns, and a ladle of dried vegetables per adult."
Emperor Evan nodded and let the official step aside, then took the ladle himself to serve food to the disaster victims. Behind him stood a crowd of court officials. As he ladled porridge, he continued, "Who used to live well? It was never the common folk! Minister of Agriculture, tell them—before the Imperial Preceptor's reforms, how many people could one mu of good land support?"
The Minister of Agriculture hurriedly replied, "Before the reforms, one mu of good land yielded three hundred and thirty jin of coarse grain per year. But back then, all the land was concentrated in the hands of noble families, monasteries, and Daoist temples. Farmers had no land. A farming family of seven or eight would work eighty mu, planting grain, fruit, vegetables, and medicinal herbs. After a year of hard labor and double cropping, there was no surplus—barely enough to fill their bellies. Maybe once or twice a month they'd have meat, and when disaster struck, they'd starve. Back then, many elders would throw themselves into rivers or head into the mountains during famine years, just so they wouldn't burden their families. Meanwhile, the noble families, temples, and Daoist halls hoarded endless grain and wealth."
Emperor Evan said, "Eighty mu of land, supporting a family of seven or eight—after a year of hard work, where did the grain go? Now tell them, after the reforms, how many people can one mu support?"
The Minister of Agriculture continued, "Your Majesty ordered the Imperial Preceptor to reform, nationalizing all land so noble families, monasteries, and Daoist halls could no longer own it. Each adult male was allotted eighty mu, including twenty mu of good land. In recent years, the population has grown several times over, and the territory has expanded, so the rules changed: now each adult male gets forty mu, ten of which are good land. The Imperial Preceptor made warriors and cultivators help with farming, ensuring harvests through drought and flood—when it was dry, we made it rain; when it flooded, we drained the water. For 160 years, there was no famine. Now, each mu yields eight hundred and twenty jin, with a tax of two shi, and farmers don't even find meat expensive anymore."
Three hundred and thirty jin. Eight hundred and twenty jin.
Emperor Evan placed two steamed buns in a hungry person's bowl, ladled in some dried vegetables, and said with feeling, "What is a Buddha? This is Buddha—a living Buddha, a Buddha for the people! It's not about calling yourself the World-Honored One or Dao Lord and spouting soul-soothing platitudes. Minister of Agriculture, let me ask you again: if the Imperial Preceptor's reforms were so good and grain so plentiful, why does famine still happen when disaster strikes?"
The Minister of Agriculture looked troubled and hesitated, "Well..."
"Speak!"
"Yes, Your Majesty. Besides the population multiplying several times over, there are other reasons—meat consumption, wars. Feeding livestock requires grain, the army needs feed for spirit beasts, training, and battle all need provisions. But most of all, it's land transfer. Some farmland has been bought up again by noble clans, sects, and temples, turning them back into landlords."
The Minister of Agriculture said, "The grain has ended up back in their hands. The last sect rebellion happened because they controlled both money and grain, which made them bold. This famine shouldn't have gotten so bad, but after the war drained the imperial treasury, these clans, sects, and temples refused to release their stores. The impact of the last sect rebellion was huge..."
Emperor Evan turned to glance at his ministers and said, "Noble clans, sects, temples, Daoist halls—once they sat high above, feasting on delicacies, talking poetry and immortality, discussing dao and divine arts. Farmers supported them, but who among them ever lent a hand to the farmers? If the farmers complained, they just sent down disasters! Is this snow disaster strange? Not at all. Back when sects ruled the state, snow disasters like this were common! And it wasn't Heaven punishing us—it was sects imposing disaster to keep the people in line!"
"The Imperial Preceptor's reforms made the sects work for farmers and merchants, and they hated it. Then he opened primary schools, universities, and the Grand Academy, teaching sect skills to the people, letting ordinary folks take over those roles—they hated it even more. So they rebelled, killed people! As if they forget that eight generations back, their ancestors were all farmers, nothing special about them!"
"You all need to see this clearly and hear it well. This time, I behead them; next time, if you act like they did, I'll behead you! The officials I want aren't those lofty sectarians, so-called masters or Buddhas—I want officials who actually get things done! Scholars, farmers, artisans, merchants—scholars must serve the other three, must do real work! Some officials in court still think they're above everyone else—damn it—Historians, excuse me for cursing—damn it, always whining and acting superior! Sometimes I wish I could cut off their heads!"
The civil and military ministers bowed their heads, not daring to speak.
The two court historians exchanged glances, both looking troubled. The older one quietly said, "Your Majesty, the Son of Heaven must mind his words."
Emperor Evan replied, "I don't usually curse, but can't I swear when I'm angry? Historians, bear with me."
Just then, a senior monk reached the front of the line, holding a golden alms bowl, and smiled, "Your Majesty speaks well. But when disaster strikes, the real question is how to stop it so the people don't suffer—that's the true path."
Emperor Evan glanced at the senior monk, served him a bowl of food, two steamed buns, and a ladle of vegetables. "I don't just talk well—I do even better. Take your time, venerable monk, and don't disturb the common folk."
The senior monk nodded, took his golden alms bowl, and left.
"The World-Honored One!" The people behind Emperor Evan recognized the monk and felt a jolt in their hearts.
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After the monk left, an old Daoist priest came forward, his clothes rumpled and hair a bit messy, holding a bowl and plate. He smiled, "Has Your Majesty eaten yet?"
Emperor Evan, looking solemn, served him food and shook his head, "Not yet."
"Your Majesty should eat something. You'll need your strength for the road ahead."
Emperor Evan nodded, grabbed two steamed buns and a bowl of porridge, and said to his ministers, "You all eat something too. We have business ahead."
The ministers, feeling as if facing a great enemy, watched the monk and Daoist nervously. But the two simply squatted in the corner by the street, eating porridge and steamed buns with dried vegetables, savoring every bite.
The ministers stepped forward, each taking a serving of food and squatting by the street corner. Emperor Evan did the same, silently eating.
After eating, Emperor Evan went to the well to draw water and wash his bowl, with his ministers lining up behind him. The World-Honored One and the Dao Lord also stepped forward to wash their bowls and chopsticks, saying, "It's been ages since we've tasted worldly food—there's a unique flavor to it."
"My ministers and I have been eating like this for months now."
Emperor Evan said earnestly, "You two should eat like this more often—don't isolate yourselves up high and far away."
"Living high and far is to avoid worldly distractions."
The old Dao Lord smiled, "You're the emperor, ruling ordinary people, but those who cultivate Dao or Buddhism must withdraw from worldly affairs—once entangled, it's hard to break free."
Emperor Evan laughed and asked, "Dao Lord, can you become a true god?"
The Dao Lord shook his head.
Emperor Evan turned to the World-Honored One, "World-Honored One, can you become a true Buddha?"
The World-Honored One shook his head. "The Divine Bridge is broken—who can truly become a god or Buddha?"
"Then what's the point of all this talk? You keep yourselves aloof as if you're so great—Historians, I cursed again, don't record it, I know. You may go now, you're not needed here."
After speaking, Emperor Evan walked toward the city gates, followed by his ministers. He stopped, turned and smiled, "We're following court protocol here, not the rules of the martial world. We don't need so many people. Divine Bridge Realm experts stay, the rest fall back."
Many ministers stopped. Seven followed Emperor Evan: Grand Marshal Monk Yuankong, Minister of Works Xiu Leqing, Minister of the Treasury Wei Pingbo, Grand General Qin Baoyue, King Taishan Ling Xuhua, Cavalry General Quan Dingwu, Senior Minister Simon Longbrow, and the emperor himself—eight in total.
The World-Honored One and the Dao Lord didn't mind, continuing onward.
Emperor Evan led them on. Outside the city, they kept walking until reaching the fields, where the emperor stopped to inspect the crops and asked an old farmer, "Will there be a good harvest?"
"Yes!" the old farmer replied loudly.
Emperor Evan smiled and turned to his ministers, "A good harvest!"
The Dao Lord said, "Your Majesty, this year yes, but next year—who knows? I've brought a book, the Pioneer Cataclysm Canon, recording the stories of the Great Ruins. Please read it as we walk. If, after reading, you still insist on reforms, then the sun and moon may see a new sky."
The World-Honored One sighed, "Dao Lord, you are compassionate."
The Dao Lord shook his head. "He doesn't know the dangers here—if he did, he'd be just like us." With that, he handed the Pioneer Cataclysm Canon to Emperor Evan.
"Your Majesty, be careful!" Senior Minister Simon Longbrow warned.
Emperor Evan smiled, "It's fine."
He took the Pioneer Cataclysm Canon from the Dao Lord and began reading carefully.
They continued walking at a leisurely pace. Emperor Evan turned page after page, reading the Pioneer Cataclysm Canon from start to finish. The Dao Lord and the World-Honored One did not rush him, but quietly walked alongside.
After traveling a hundred li or so, Emperor Evan finished reading, steadied himself, looked up at the sky, and fell silent.
The old Dao Lord said, "Your Majesty, with the people in your heart, you should know what to do now, right?"
Emperor Evan seemed lost in thought, then suddenly said, "When I was young, the country wasn't this vast, nor was the emperor so revered. Back then, noble clans and sects still threw their weight around. Once, I traveled abroad as an envoy to a place called Yuanqi—nowadays it's Yuanzhou. There was a thunder disaster there: dark clouds covered the sky, lightning struck endlessly, killing countless livestock and people."
"The emperor of Yuanqi and his officials knelt in the storm, begging forgiveness; the people did the same, pleading with Heaven to relent. The emperor was struck dead by lightning. Later I learned their 'Heaven' wasn't a god, but the Thunder Hidden Sect—a sect. Bad harvests meant poor tributes, so the sect sent down disaster. The culprit was their sect's spirit treasure, the Ninefold Thunder Summoning Canopy. The emperor took the blame, so the sect killed him and installed a new ruler. That was when I started thinking..."
He looked at the Dao Lord and the World-Honored One and declared, "I wanted to overturn you! Now I've done it—but the Imperial Preceptor and I haven't gone far enough, so we have this snow disaster. Gods? I'll overturn gods too!"
The Dao Lord couldn't help but say, "Your Majesty, do you not care for the people? Do you want Yan Kang to end up like the Great Ruins? You and the Imperial Preceptor reformed, defeated the sects, unified the land—I never stopped you, did I? But if you keep pushing, Heaven itself will be angered, endangering all lives!"
The old World-Honored One said, "Your Majesty, think carefully."
Emperor Evan said, "You have your beliefs, and I have mine."
The old World-Honored One sighed and said to the Dao Lord, "Old friend, it's time to choose a new emperor."
The Dao Lord fetched his Dao Sword and nodded, "So be it. We've said all we can, but His Majesty refuses to listen. We'll have to choose a new emperor."
Emperor Evan looked around and saw old Daoists, old monks, and poor scholars approaching from all sides, surrounding them. There were far more of them than his own group of eight.
Grand General Qin Baoyue and the others turned pale.
Emperor Evan was stunned, then laughed, "World-Honored One, Dao Lord, I thought you'd use martial world rules, not court protocol."
The World-Honored One shook his head, "We have no choice. Please forgive us, Your Majesty. Dao Lord, fellow Daoists, let us send His Majesty on his way."
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