Chapter 16: The Hundred Riders (Part II)

"So it really was about the miraculous medicine after all!" Zheng Kejun heaved a long, internal sigh. Outwardly, however, he remained respectful. "In reply to Your Majesty, this humble general sent men to observe those two medicines up close under the pretext of broadening their horizons. They do indeed appear quite miraculous. But their efficacy is merely..."

"Two types?" Li Xian interrupted, a sharp, piercing light flashing in his eyes.

"Yes, two different medicines. One is called 'Bafuning,' and its efficacy lies in relieving persistent high fever in patients." Zheng Kejun hesitated, his voice rising unconsciously. "The other is 'Exorcism Pill,' whose efficacy is merely for treating infected wounds, very similar to gunpowder! I even sent men to verify this with the merchant Ren Qiong. He was indeed wounded by arrows coated in filth, which caused the wound to fester and the 'evil vapors' to surge. Yet, just a few days ago, he led a large group of workers to Ganzhou, appearing as robust and healthy as any ordinary man!"

"It can only be used to treat wounds?" Li Xian’s gaze dimmed rapidly, and his voice betrayed undisguised disappointment.

"Only for treating wounds. The shopkeeper of the trading firm repeatedly emphasized that this is its only function. That is why it has remained largely ignored," Zheng Kejun repeated honestly, not daring to exaggerate or minimize the effects of the "Exorcism Pill." "As for anything else, it is merely hearsay!"

"Hmm," Li Xian let out a low, ruminative sound. He did not continue the previous topic, but he did not dismiss Zheng Kejun either.

Zheng Kejun, Deputy Director of the Hundred Riders, opened his mouth but made no sound. He stood there blankly, a mixture of emotions churning within him.

If even the Emperor required the "Exorcism Pill" to treat an infected blade wound, how far had the enemy reached? To what extent had the national strength of the Great Tang declined?

If the Emperor was hidden deep within the palace and could still be wounded by an assassin, then what use were the Hundred Riders? What value was there in his own existence as Deputy Director, or in the men he commanded?

At this thought, he gritted his teeth and, bracing himself, offered a reminder: "Your Majesty, this humble general once tested the effects of the gunpowder on prisoners on death row. It is useful for almost all external wounds. It is just that the pain upon application is unbearable."

"Hmm!" Li Xian let out another meditative grunt, non-committal toward Zheng Kejun’s claim.

Seeing this, Zheng Kejun hardened his resolve once more and added in a low voice, "Reporting to Your Majesty, this humble general has verified that although those two medicines are being sold by three trading firms in partnership, the true power behind them is the household of the Duke of Bao. The Duan family has always been loyal to the throne. If Your Majesty wishes for them to offer the medicine, this humble general can arrange for someone to provide them with a subtle hint at any time."

"Absurd!" This time, Li Xian did not ponder. He frowned, scolding sharply, "Do you think I need to resort to extortion? I do not even step out of the palace gates; what would I need that medicine for? Do not ever speak such nonsense again!"

"Your Majesty, please calm your anger! This humble general knows his crime, he knows his crime!" Zheng Kejun, thoroughly bewildered by the scolding, bowed and gestured in apology.

"Go!" Seeing his terrified expression, Li Xian felt a sudden wave of listlessness and waved his hand weakly toward the door.

"This humble general takes his leave!" As if granted amnesty, Zheng Kejun bowed hurriedly and strode out of the study. As he crossed the threshold, he tripped over his own feet, nearly crashing to the ground.

"Hmph!" Watching the man’s "hasty escape," Emperor Li Xian, the Divine Dragon of Yingtian, felt his irritation boil over. He steadied himself against the desk and let out a cold, low snort.

He did not consider himself a bloodthirsty monarch, especially compared to his mother. But ever since the Crown Prince slew Wu Sansi and took his own life beneath the Zhongnan Mountains, most of those around him acted like mice encountering a cat.

This left him feeling not only uncomfortable but deeply aggrieved. It was as if a monk who had never even stepped on an ant were suddenly accused by the authorities of being a murderer.

Heaven is my witness; he, the Emperor, had done nothing at the time. Even the death of that rebellious son was not the result of his own relentless pressure as a father.

That rebellious son, blinded by the blood he had spilled, had actually led troops to storm the palace that night. As an Emperor in his prime, he could hardly order the palace gates opened to let the rebel inside, only to become some powerless Retired Emperor!

If he had, not only would Princess Anle—who was usually at odds with the rebel—the Empress, and his other sons have met a tragic end, but the "Empress Zetian Dasheng," already laid to rest, would surely come to him in his dreams to demand whether her verdict from twenty years ago—that he was unfit to be an Emperor—was right or wrong.

"I am not a muddle-headed ruler!" The scene of being driven from the throne by his mother for the first time flashed before his eyes, and a roar of resentment erupted from Li Xian’s throat.

Yet, in the next instant, he realized his lack of composure. He raised his hand abruptly, pressing it firmly over his own mouth.

The action was truly too forceful. In an instant, his heart spasmed, and a violent, twisting pain radiated from behind his sternum toward his shoulder blades and arms. The agony was so intense that his vision went black, his face turned deathly pale, and sweat poured down his forehead.

"Your Majesty—" Gao Yanfu, the duty eunuch, was quick-witted and experienced. He lunged forward in a flash, pressing a hand onto the Emperor's shoulder. He then used the index finger of his other hand to press firmly and rapidly on the vital points on the Emperor's chest and back.

After a series of acupressure points were pressed, Gao Yanfu was drenched in sweat. Emperor Li Xian’s complexion gradually eased, and his heart slowly returned to normal.

"Your Majesty—" Only then did the other eunuchs and palace maids realize something was wrong. They screamed and rushed forward, some bringing tea, others rubbing his chest, all in complete disarray.

Gao Yanfu, unwilling to fight for credit, stepped back a few paces and bowed, asking, "Your Majesty, shall I summon the Imperial Physician to treat you? This old servant’s methods can only treat the symptoms, not the root cause."

"Forget it, the Imperial Physician cannot treat this illness at all!" Li Xian’s heart had recovered, but his spirit was as wilted as a frost-bitten crop. He waved his hand and commanded listlessly.

"Your Majesty, Physician Sun once said..." Gao Yanfu, deeply worried about Li Xian’s health, lowered his head and whispered a plea.

"Today’s events are not to be spoken of to anyone. You, issue a gag order to them!" Li Xian refused to hear him out, interrupting with a frown. He then closed his eyes, leaning his body against the throne, refusing to hear another sound.

It was no wonder he was so desperate; this was not an illness the Imperial Physicians could cure, but a curse laid by Heaven upon the Li family of Longyou! Back in the day, even Sun Simiao, the grandfather of Sun Anzu, had been helpless against this ailment. And Sun Anzu’s skill was not even one-tenth of his grandfather’s!

His grandfather, Emperor Gaozu Li Yuan, had died of this illness; Emperor Taizong Li Shimin had also died of it. His father, Emperor Gaozong Li Zhi, had been tortured by it until he was blind, only to eventually succumb to it as well.

His mother, however, because she bore the surname Wu, was never plagued by this curse. After waiting for his grandfather and father to die, she had cast him, her own son, off the throne and spent twenty-one years happily as a female emperor.

As for himself, since his second ascension, he had endured with difficulty. It was only after overthrowing the "Five Thieves" led by Zhang Jianzhi and outliving the powerful official Wu Sansi that he finally felt a sense of relief. Who would have thought that after less than five months of feeling unburdened, the curse would descend upon him once again?

In the eyes of Xiao Zhizhong, Bi Gou, and He Zhizhang, his decision to promote Zhang Qian to the high rank of Fifth-Rank Shaojian was because the man had offered gunpowder, windmills, and mechanical wells, and had rendered meritorious service in protecting the Emperor.

In the eyes of Zong Chuoke and Ji Chune, his reliance on a man of unknown origin was because the man was eloquent and had used a stirring, impassioned speech to gain his trust.

In truth, none of these were entirely correct!

Li Xian knew deep down that the reason he valued Zhang Qian, beyond the aforementioned reasons, was that this man gave him a glimmer of hope for escaping the curse.

He did not want to die—at least, not before he could prove himself to be a capable monarch.

Even if he had only one breath left, even if he were like his father in his final days, unable to see with his own eyes, he still wished to live. He wanted to live to see the "Reign of Yonghui" recreated, to see the Tang armies sweep across the Western Regions again, and to see the day the Tibetans were driven back to the plateau for good.

Yet, that Zhang Qian could provide miraculous elixirs to save the life of the merchant Ren Qiong who had sheltered him; he could provide windmills and wells for Bi Gou, to whom he owed his career; he could provide gunpowder and chrysanthemum wine for Zhang Ruoxu and He Zhizhang, who had merely offered him a few pointers. And yet, until now, he had shown not a shred of gratitude to the Great Tang Emperor who had promoted him to such a high Fifth-Rank position!

Worse still, Li Xian could not send anyone to drop hints or summon Zhang Qian into the palace to ask if the Qin Mohist school had any elixirs for longevity or treating heart ailments. To do so would surely leave a laughingstock in the palace records, a mark of an Emperor who "ignored the artifacts that benefit the nation, only inquiring after his own life." It would certainly make his mother, from beyond the grave, laugh until she shook!

No, absolutely not!

Li Xian could ignore the palace records, and he could ignore the historical reputation of a muddle-headed ruler. But he could not ignore the mocking laughter of his mother!

Back then, when his mother, Wu Zetian, drove him from the throne, it was not because he had committed any fault. It was simply because she was obsessed with power and did not want him, her son, to slip out of her control.

If he had been the Emperor during those twenty years, the Western Regions would not have been plagued by war, the Hexi Corridor would not have been lost, the Tang interior would not have suffered repeated rebellions, and the national treasury would not have been cleaner than a newly swept step.

If he had been the Emperor, the Turks would not have risen from the ashes, and the Tuyuhun would not have rebelled and surrendered repeatedly. The Tibetans would not have slaughtered their way from the plateau to the gates of Suzhou, forcing the connection between Chang'an and Anxi into a thin, fragile line!

If he only...

In the three-plus years since his second ascension, he had toppled the five sycophants who monopolized the court, outlived Wu Sansi, and rehabilitated the meritorious officials of the Lingyan Pavilion who had been wrongly executed by his father and mother, granting their descendants enviable wealth and glory.

He had abolished torture and the system of secret informants, lowered taxes, straightened out the court, and allowed money to reappear in the national treasury, giving the soldiers of the Sixteen Guards the courage to fight once more.

He had gradually corrected the mistakes his mother had made, gradually allowed the Great Tang to recover its vitality, and yet, Heaven was unwilling to grant him more time!

"This is unfair!" Clenching his fists tightly, Li Xian gnashed his teeth.

No, between two evils, he must choose the lesser. He would rather be a laughingstock than miss the chance to summon Zhang Qian and ask if the Qin Mohists had any secret recipes for curing heart ailments or any corresponding elixirs.

He needed time, and the Great Tang needed time. Therefore...

"Your Majesty, time for your medicine, be a good boy!" A gentle yet unmistakable voice suddenly echoed in his ear, instantly clearing all thoughts and resolutions from his mind.

"Hmm." Opening his eyes to look at his wife, Empress Wei—who was over forty-five but still as beautiful as a peony—the Divine Dragon Emperor of Yingtian opened his mouth submissively and drank the medicinal soup she fed him with a silver spoon, down to the very last drop.