Chapter 50: Dragon's Roar over Huainan-Renascido como Liu Xie, criando um Grande Han onde o sol nunca se põe(Cortinas verdes ao vento)

The copper clepsydra in the Southern Palace of Luoyang pointed to the third quarter of the卯 hour as Liu Xie's vermilion brush bled spots of crimson across the map of Yuzhou. Morning mist laced with the scent of saltpeter seeped through the lattice windows, dyeing the stacks of military dispatches on his desk an ash-gray. When Jia Xu entered bearing a gilded brazier, he caught sight of the Son of Heaven using a dagger to trim the blackened wick of a candle, its flickering flame casting dancing shadows over the interlocking battle lines on the sand table.

"General Huangfu's light cavalry has already passed Kunyang." The veteran strategist placed the brazier at the edge of the sand table, the charcoal heat crackling against the ceramic model of the Runan mountains. A wisp of blue smoke rose from the charred marker for "Yiyang." Suddenly, Liu Xie yanked away the uppermost military report, revealing a blood-stained linen cloth beneath—the four charcoal characters "Holy Lord, save us quickly" distorted beneath the licking tongues of flame.

As the clashing of metal echoed from outside the palace gates, Sun Ru's gilded dagger severed the iron caltrop at the back of a messenger's neck. A poisoned dart clattered to the ground, its tail feathers adorned with Bagua patterns crushed beneath a boot sole. "Soul-reaping nails of the Thunder Fire Hall." Dropping to one knee, she presented a bronze Luopan compass. "Two hours ago, the Xun Battalion intercepted this at Ruyin."

Liu Xie spun the dragon motifs on the back of the compass. The moment the mechanism sprang open, the undercurrents of Lake Puli seemed to flood the secret chamber. The vermilion characters on the silk stung his eyes: "The cyclical day of Bingyin in the twelfth month." Abruptly, he hurled the compass toward the sand table, its bronze rim shattering the model of Shouchun. "Order Gan Ning to reroute the tall ships to Lake Poyang!"

At that very moment, amid the reed marshes of Lake Puli, Mi Zhu was stuffing the final half-cake of sulfur into the belly of a fish. In the distance, the tall ships of the Yellow Heaven Cult came cleaving through the waves, the iron hammers swung by bare-chested strongmen raising a fishy gale. The instant his small boat pitched atop a crest, he heard the low drone of a flood dragon from beneath the water—the sound of Gan Ning's fleet cutting through the hidden currents with their new-style keels.

"Release the plows!" The shout from the brocade-sailed flagship pierced the dusk. Five enemy vessels abruptly listed violently. Through the breaches torn by the steel barbs on their hulls, river water mixed with sulfur came surging inward. Seizing the moment, Mi Zhu severed his mooring rope, watching the oil-soaked linen ignite into a wall of ghost-blue fire upon the water. Gan Ning, having leaped aboard the enemy flagship, moved his twin halberds like silver serpents striking. As the golden-ringed libationer was dragged across the deck by his ankles with an iron chain, he caught sight of Mi Zhu's practiced technique of extracting sulfur from the fish's mouth.

Upon the Bronze Bird Terrace within the Shouchun imperial palace, Yuan Shu used the Imperial Seal to smash his tenth walnut. The Administrator of Runan groveled on the floor, staring at the bamboo slips that had fallen from the chipped corner of the seal—secret dispatches concerning grain prices across the commanderies, the vermilion annotations of soaring rice prices in Huainan glaring like fresh blood. "Your Majesty! A great victory at Chenliu!" Ji Ling's blood-stained garments rushed into the hall wrapped in cold wind, only to see Yuan Shu violently overturn the gilded table. Amidst the crisp crash of crystal goblets shattering on the floor, Western Regions wine transformed into a winding creek of blood.

The cry of a night owl pierced the silence of the midnight hour. The dark robes of the Grand Supervisor swept across the flying eaves. The glazed tiles of the Bronze Bird Terrace shattered in sheets, and the head of the Thunder Fire Hall libationer rolled to Yuan Shu's feet, the Bagua tattoo at the severed edge of his neck still oozing blood. A soft chuckle drifted from behind the gilded mask: "Libationer Zhang asked me to pass along a message—he is waiting for you at the Naihe Bridge to discuss the Dao."

"Huangfu Song's light cavalry has already passed Kunyang." The veteran strategist placed the brazier at the edge of the sand table, sparks splashing onto the "Yiyang" marker. "Just as Your Majesty commanded, the granaries of the prefectures and counties along the route have been thrown wide open. Those refugees drafted into the baggage trains already number seventy thousand."

Liu Xie suddenly yanked away the uppermost military report, the blood-stained linen spreading across the desk like a tattered battle flag. The four charcoal characters "Holy Lord, save us quickly" distorted beneath the licking tongues of flame, their charred edges outlining the trace of a child's handprint. His fingertips traced the dried bloodstains, suddenly recalling the secret dispatch delivered from Xuchang three days prior—the woodblocks slipped into the *Essentials of Agriculture and Sericulture* had been copied from calligraphy sheets practiced by the schoolchildren of Yiyang City.

When the clashing of metal echoed from outside the palace gates, Sun Ru was already skimming across the eaves to enter the courtyard. The instant her gilded dagger severed the iron caltrop at the back of the messenger's neck, the Bagua patterns on the dart's tail feathers were ground into the crevices of the bluestones by her deerskin boots. "Soul-reaping nails of the Thunder Fire Hall." Dropping to one knee, she presented the bronze Luopan compass, the silver bells at her wrists chiming softly with the motion. "When the Xun Battalion intercepted this at Ruyin, thirty Yellow Turban strongmen were pouring fierce fire-oil onto the dart carts."

Liu Xie spun the dragon motifs on the back of the compass. The moment the mechanism sprang open, the undercurrents of Lake Puli seemed to flood the secret chamber. The vermilion characters on the silk stung his eyes: "The cyclical day of Bingyin in the twelfth month, the Water Dragon of Poyang." Abruptly, he hurled the compass toward the sand table, its bronze rim shattering the model of Shouchun, while flying ceramic shards sliced a bloody gash across Jia Xu's robe hem. "Order Gan Ning to reroute the tall ships! Have his water ghosts bring the 'plowshares'!"

At that very moment, amid the reed marshes of Lake Puli, Mi Zhu was stuffing the final half-cake of sulfur into the gills of a blue carp. In the distance, five tall ships of the Yellow Heaven Cult came cleaving through the waves, the iron hammers swung by bare-chested strongmen raising a fishy gale, the thunder-fire stones embedded in their hammerheads glowing with an eerie light amid the dusk. The instant his small boat pitched atop a crest, he heard the low drone of a flood dragon from beneath the water—the sound of Gan Ning's fleet cutting through hidden currents with their new-style keels, the steel-forged ship ribs mincing the moonlight into silver scales.

"Release the plows!" The shout from the brocade-sailed flagship pierced the dusk. Five enemy vessels abruptly listed like a drunkard. Through the breaches torn by the steel barbs on their hulls, river water mixed with sulfur came surging inward. Seizing the moment, Mi Zhu severed his mooring rope, watching the oil-soaked linen ignite into a wall of ghost-blue fire upon the water. Gan Ning, barefoot as he stepped across the deck of the enemy flagship, whirled his twin halberds, the beads of blood whipped up by his motion linking into silver chains in the moonlight. As the golden-ringed libationer was dragged across the mast by his ankles with an iron chain, he caught sight of Mi Zhu's practiced technique of extracting sulfur from the fish's mouth, suddenly realizing with a start that the patterns on the carp's belly were identical to the clay sealings of the Armament Directorate's gunpowder jars.

Upon the Bronze Bird Terrace within the Shouchun imperial palace, Yuan Shu used the Imperial Seal to smash his tenth walnut. The Administrator of Runan groveled on the floor, staring at the bamboo slips that had fallen from the chipped corner of the seal—dense secret dispatches concerning grain prices, where the vermilion annotations of soaring rice prices in Huainan glared like fresh blood. The gilded pillars reflected his bloated visage, the eastern pearls on his crown swaying with his ragged breathing. "Your Majesty! A great victory at Chenliu!" Ji Ling's blood-stained garments rushed into the hall wrapped in cold wind, only to see Yuan Shu violently overturn his table. Amidst the crisp crash of crystal goblets shattering on the floor, Western Regions wine transformed into a winding creek of blood.

The frozen earth outside Xuchang City was being cleaved open by new-style curved-shaft plows. Cao Cáo scooped up a handful of soil mixed with iron filings, minute glints of gold sparkling between his fingers—the copper slag blended during the smelting of iron ore at the Armament Directorate was now weaving a golden net in the morning light. Cheng Yu suddenly pointed toward the official road, where oxcarts transporting the *Essentials of Agriculture and Sericulture* rumbled over ruts. The vermilion seal reading " Imperial Grace is Boundless" on the title pages was pressed onto the frozen earth amidst the bouncing ride, resembling the Son of Heaven's own seal stamped across the Nine Provinces. Several children with topknots ran chasing after the oxcarts, and book pages of mulberry paper scattered by the cold wind fell among the newly turned furrows, instantly to be cherished and tucked into their bosoms by gleaning old farmers.

On the nameless island at the heart of Lake Poyang, Sun Ru's dagger was prying up the third bronze floor tile. The roaring of the underground river shook down stalactites, and the scent of sulfur surged forth wrapped in memories—amidst the blue smoke of Liu Xie's alchemy room, he had once held her hand to adjust the proportion of saltpeter: "The fiercest fire must be reserved for the maddest dogs." The instant the secret door swung wide open, three thousand wooden oxen and flowing horses opened their hollow eye sockets, the gunpowder jars within their abdominal cavities reflecting the blood-written words upon the cavern walls: "The Jiazi year, the Jiazi day, the Fire Dragon incinerates the heavens." Her south-pointing chariot needle suddenly vibrated violently, pointing toward the colossal bronze gates deep within the cavern, where the pupils of the Taotie motifs on the gates were shockingly embedded with half a jade pendant inlaid with plum blossom patterns.

The clepsydra in the Southern Palace of Luoyang pointed to the third watch as Liu Xie abruptly snapped the jade beads of his nine-tassels crown. Amidst the crisp chime of twelve strings of white jade striking one another, Jia Xu watched the Yangtze River on the sand table artificially rerouted, washing the Shouchun model into a bronze pottery urn. "The wolf smoke upon the ramparts of Yiyang should be rising now." The Son of Heaven dipped his brush in vermilion and drew circles across the map, the crimson ripples swallowing the entirety of Huainan. "Have Cao Cáo send over the newly cast plowshares; it is time to turn the soil." Suddenly he began to cough, vermilion seeping between the fingers of the silk handkerchief pressed to his mouth, though he swiftly tossed the fabric into the brazier the moment Jia Xu raised his eyes.

Huangfu Song's Mo Dao broadsword was skewering wolf meat roasting over an open fire atop the Yiyang city wall. The charred aroma drifted down mingled with grains of snow, while at the bottom of the iron cauldrons distributed to the common folk, the "Jingyuan" inscription still retained the lingering warmth of the casting mold. When Yuan Shu's routed soldiers knelt beneath the city walls begging for food, they saw the dark dragon banner unfurling like a sword amidst the wolf smoke, the wheat ear pattern embroidered in gold thread upon the banner sharing the exact same hidden motif as the back cover of the *Essentials of Agriculture and Sericulture*. A one-armed veteran suddenly snatched up a clump of earth and hurled it at the routed soldiers, and where the compacted earth shattered, half a grain of gold sand was exposed—this was the "blessing seed" specially crafted by the Armament Directorate, sown exclusively in reconquered territories.

A thousand li away, the Shouchun underground palace was sinking into the earth. Yuan Shu fled wildly clutching the imperial seal, the chipped jade mount suddenly aligning with a memory from three years prior—in the secret chamber of the Sun family estate, the cold gleam of Sun Ru's drawn dagger had once reflected those exact same dragon patterns. As the grinding of machinery drowned out his final screams, the Grand Supervisor was pressing the final gilded tiger tally into its recess, the characters "Yuzhang" upon the tally blurring gradually amidst the tremors. The subterranean river surging from the fissures in the earth poured backward into the chambers, where the watermarks reading "The Mi Clan of Guangling" upon the floating bamboo slips slowly dissolved and blurred.

When Sun Ru's south-pointing chariot needle came to a halt before the colossal bronze gates, her fingers brushed against the indentations on the cave wall. The instant a flint lit up the archaic seal script reading "Guarding with Mohist resolve," the wooden oxen and flowing horses simultaneously wheeled around. A muffled sound of gears interlocking echoed from deep underground, and three thousand mechanical beasts bowed their heads toward the direction of Luoyang like loyal hounds paying homage to their master. When she pressed the half jade pendant into the pupil of the Taotie, the massive gates burst open with a resounding crash. Upon the silk scrolls preserved in the ice chests were recorded the secret pact between the Mohist giant and Yin Lihua during the reign of Emperor Guangwu—those secret tunnels spanning the entire Nine Provinces had originally been constructed for the restoration of the Han Dynasty.