Inside the Imperial Study, Zhu Youjian listened to Yang Sichang finish his explanation and found himself oddly persuaded.
If there truly was a spy in court, then secrecy made sense. And the result had been good, had it not? The Eight Great Kings was dead. The bandits were scattered.
No.
Good my foot.
Tens of thousands of troops had moved, and he, the Son of Heaven, had known nothing.
If Yang Sichang could secretly redeploy armies to Huguang, what would stop him from secretly redeploying them to the capital? Would Zhu Youjian only learn of it when soldiers were already at the city walls?
This precedent could not be allowed.
His face darkened.
"Yang Sichang, you mobilized vast forces without imperial approval. That borders on treason. However, since you have destroyed the bandits, I will consider merit to offset fault. I spare your head. But you shall no longer serve as Minister of War."
Yang Sichang's heart unclenched instantly.
Head intact.
A mere dismissal was a bargain.
He bowed, thanked the emperor, and withdrew at a speed that betrayed his relief. As former Minister of War, he understood the empire's military situation better than anyone. The troops that had marched to suppress the bandits did not truly obey him. Nor did they truly obey the emperor.
Then whose troops were they?
He did not dare pursue the thought. Better to keep one's head down and one's neck unsevered.
After he left, Zhu Youjian fell into fresh anxiety. The post of Minister of War was now vacant, and in these times that chair burned hotter than a brazier in winter.
After long hesitation, he gave the order.
"Summon the Three Border Governor Hong Chengchou to the capital. He shall serve as Minister of War."
---
Meanwhile, in every city and village of Tianzun's liberated territory, celebrations erupted.
The festival had, naturally, been invented on a whim by Dao Xuan Tianzun. The earliest villagers of Gaocun already knew that Tianzun delighted in creating strange new holidays out of thin air. This one was called the Day of Pacifying the Wandering Bandits.
The name hardly mattered.
What mattered was revelry.
In Xi'an, at the Caishikou market square, a giant liquid crystal screen broadcast the news. Two fresh faced anchors declared in unison, "The wandering bandits have been pacified!"
Cheers exploded. Hats flew skyward.
Behind Zhu Cunji, the bound and seated Mi Qianhu wore an expression worthy of a painter. This loyal Jinyiwei officer had watched the entire campaign through the news broadcasts. The army he had witnessed chilled him to the marrow.
If that terrifying force ever encircled the capital, what army in the Great Ming could stop it?
A voice rose from the crowd.
"Hey, why hasn't Tianzun bestowed a special food this time?"
"Yes, where's the heavenly delicacy?"
The people looked puzzled.
Zhu Cunji leaned over the balcony and shouted down, "Wait, Tianzun usually grants special food on festivals?"
"Of course!" someone yelled back. "At the Sudden Whim Festival in Gaocun, he gave us a gigantic piece of braised beef. Fragrant beyond words."
Zhu Cunji grew anxious. "Why not this time? Does this heir not deserve a taste of heavenly cuisine?"
Mi Qianhu snorted. "Fraud. All fraud. I do not believe in any Tianzun. Your so called immortal artifacts are nothing but clever craftsmanship. Even that treasure mirror of yours is manufactured trickery."
"Shut up, idiot," Zhu Cunji snapped. "It's because of stubborn fools like you that Tianzun has not bestowed food. You've doomed us."
They argued fiercely.
Outside the box, Li Dao Xuan was extremely busy.
He had just ordered over a hundred KFC snack buckets. Delivery riders in yellow uniforms had arrived one after another, so many that KFC had nearly needed a freight truck. Carrying more than a hundred buckets upstairs by himself, without revealing the secret of the box, had required several exhausting trips.
Now, at last, distribution could begin.
He reached into a bucket.
Fried drumstick.
Excellent.
With a flick, he dropped it into Gaocun.
The villagers erupted in cheers. "A giant drumstick!"
Next came a piece of popcorn chicken, tossed toward Luoyang.
More cheers.
Then his gaze shifted to Xi'an.
From the balcony, Zhu Cunji shouted at the heavens, "Tianzun! If Xi'an has done wrong, we shall correct it at once. Please do not disdain us. Grant us a heavenly delicacy!"
Li Dao Xuan laughed.
His hand brushed against an Orleans roasted chicken wing. Perfect.
He lowered it gently into the Caishikou square.
Below, the crowd scrambled back as a colossal roasted wing descended from the evening sky, glistening with oil, fragrant beyond belief.
Zhu Cunji beamed. "Tianzun has not forsaken Xi'an!"
Mi Qianhu stared upward, mind shattered.
He had dismissed everything as technological trickery. He had equated Dao Xuan Tianzun with heterodox cult idols like the Unborn Mother. Yet now, with his own eyes, he saw low clouds part in the dusk, and from that gap a gigantic roasted wing several zhang long slowly descend into the square that moments before had been packed with citizens watching the news.
The crowd parted with excitement rather than fear.
"How do we divide this?"
"Line up, line up. No trampling."
Shaanxi Governor Sun Chuanting leaped forward with yamen runners to maintain order.
"Four lines at every street entrance!"
The people complied swiftly. Officials carved slices from the enormous wing and handed them out one by one.
"I eat a lot. Cut me a bigger piece."
"I eat little. Smaller is fine. Don't waste."
Laughter filled the square as distribution proceeded smoothly.
Zhu Cunji dragged his consort downstairs and squeezed into a queue. When his turn came, he stretched out both hands. "This heir eats neither much nor little. A piece the size of my fist will do."
His wife declared, "I want one the size of my head."
The crowd gasped, eyes drifting toward her waist.
She flared instantly. "I am slim. My waist is slender. I simply eat well. What are you staring at?"
Laughter rippled through the square as everyone tactfully looked away.