In Xu Shu's eyes, Jiangling City's bustling trade was not truly born of commerce alone.
Its prosperity stemmed, first and foremost, from its strategic position.
Judging from Guan Yu's original approach to city construction—tall walls, deep moats—it was clear that defense had always been the priority. In that sense, it aligned perfectly with Xu Shu's long-held impression of Guan Yu's methods.
What no one had anticipated was that Jiangling's critical geography, combined with the steady flow of goods produced in Shu, would turn the city into a commercial hub far beyond the intentions of its builders.
The docks, now operating far beyond their intended capacity, were already giving Guan Yu headaches.
Even so, Xu Shu could not help but feel his horizons expand.
In the end, all he could do was sigh in admiration at Jiangling's current state—its people wealthy, its soldiers strong.
And that was only the beginning.
There were far too many things he could not even properly judge.
For example, the new-style ballista ships under construction along the riverbanks.
Or Lady Huang's proposal to use circular wheeled mechanisms linked by iron ring-belts to connect Jiangling and Gong'an directly.
Each revelation left Xu Shu feeling as though his eyes had been forcibly pried open.
And then there were the water-powered workshops, the refined manufacturing techniques, the spread of literacy driven by cheap paper, and the emergence of engineering and medical disciplines as practical studies rather than esoteric crafts.
It was overwhelming.
His first instinct was immediate and fierce:
Kongming misled me!
Had I known you possessed such world-shaking talent, I would have recommended you to my lord at once.
Forget three visits to a thatched cottage—
He would have dragged his Lord there ten times, or a hundred, until the Sleeping Dragon was roused.
Regret gnawed at him.
If he had brought Zhuge Liang forward earlier… would everything now be completely different?
Thus, as he followed Guan Yu through Gong'an County, Xu Shu found himself distracted, half-present—awed, yet unsettled.
Guan Yu noticed.
From Xu Shu's expression alone, he could guess much of what weighed on the man's heart.
In the end, Guan Yu led him to an utterly unremarkable residence.
"Yuanzhi," Guan Yu said calmly, "this way."
Xu Shu forced himself to focus, glancing left and right.
Jiangling was already nearing saturation. Some people now lived in Gong'an but worked daily in Jiangling.
And around this house…
Xu Shu recognized many familiar faces.
These were veterans—old soldiers who had followed General Yunchang since the earliest days under their lord.
Men of few words. Utterly loyal. The kind who would die without hesitation at Guan Yu's command.
Understanding dawned.
Xu Shu turned to look at Guan Yu.
The general's expression was firm as ever, but his gaze was deep, distant—fixed on something far beyond the present moment.
Xu Shu nodded.
He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
The residence was bare and quiet.
Inside, there was only a couch, a desk—and a single book resting atop it.
Curious, Xu Shu knelt before the desk and picked it up.
The cover bore no title.
But the moment he opened the first page, his expression changed completely.
The Governance of Chengdu Begins Here.
Liu Bei stood barefoot atop a field ridge, brimming with energy.
Before him stretched the endless Chengdu Plain.
To the west, the Min River thundered out of the mountains, flowing through Dujiangyan before spilling freely across this fertile land.
The Land of Abundance lived up to its name.
One region alone could sustain a million people of Yi Province.
Zhuge Liang watched as his lord suddenly broke into an inexplicable smile.
After a moment's thought, he raised a hand to his brow, shading his eyes.
"My lord," he said casually, "you may want to stop daydreaming. "I believe I see the Lady of the Wu clan approaching."
Liu Bei reacted like a startled rabbit.
He immediately bent down into the rice field, snatched a bundle of seedlings from A-Dou's basket, and began planting them crookedly and frantically.
A-Dou's eyes lit up.
Earlier, Kongming had declared that today's lesson would only end once the entire basket of seedlings was planted.
Now his father had taken a large portion.
For a brief, glorious moment, A-Dou began fantasizing.
If he finished early, would he spend the afternoon learning how to weave grass rings with the girl from the next street?
Or maybe go shrimp-catching with the older boy down the road?
Then the basket grew heavier.
His dreams collapsed.
He looked at Kongming with a mournful face.
Kongming remained unmoved.
"One basket," he said calmly, "means one basket."
Ignoring A-Dou's near tears, Kongming focused on his own work.
After the first month of the year came the busiest farming season.
Raising seedlings. Transplanting rice.
That was life now.
The real victim, however, was everyone's lower back.
Bent over all day, every night they felt as though they might never straighten up again.
At times like this, Kongming couldn't help recalling the future.
Surely… later generations had machines for transplanting rice?
He had tried sketching something during his spare moments, some tool to assist with planting—but every design ran headlong into practical obstacles.
"Military Advisor Zhuge," came a soft voice, interrupting his thoughts, "is Lord Xuande here?"
Kongming turned.
A tall woman stood there—beautiful without fragility, her eyes lively and alert.
The death of her hot-tempered husband had not turned her bitter or withdrawn.
Kongming pursed his lips.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his lord crouching low in the distance, hiding among the other farmers.
"…I don't know," Kongming replied.
It didn't help.
Lady Wu did not seem discouraged at all.
She reached into her sleeve and produced a small paper packet, gently unfolding it to reveal a piece of cane sugar.
She bent down and waved it before A-Dou's eyes.
A-Dou swallowed hard.
Sugar was now sold in Chengdu's official markets—but Liu Bei strictly controlled A-Dou's intake.
Such luxuries were rare.
Which only made the sweetness impossible to forget.
So when Lady Wu gently placed the sugar into A-Dou's mouth, the outcome was inevitable.
Lost to sweetness, A-Dou immediately pointed toward his father's hiding place.
Liu Bei rose from the field with an awkward laugh—one hand clutching seedlings, the other coated in mud—and offered a deeply undignified greeting.
Lady Wu smiled, glided forward, and gave him no chance to flee.
She pulled out a scented handkerchief and wiped his sweat.
"Lord Xuande truly sets an example for the people," she said lightly. "Even planting rice with such skill."
Liu Bei stumbled through a flustered response.
A-Dou protested loudly.
"Father's rows are ugly! Mine are much straighter!"
Kongming nodded in agreement.
"Teacher," A-Dou asked, puzzled, "why is Father so afraid of Lady Wu?"
Kongming bent back to his work.
"He's not afraid of her," he said. "He's afraid of trouble."
"Why?" A-Dou persisted.
"Because your father just took several thousand mu of fertile land from the Wu clan."
A-Dou thought hard, still planting.
"But then… shouldn't Lady Wu hate Father?"
Kongming smiled faintly.
"Then think about it," he said. "Why doesn't she?"
A-Dou fell silent.
Even after the day's work ended, he still hadn't figured it out.
Kongming tapped his head.
"If you can't understand it, don't force it. Go play."
A-Dou cheered and immediately forgot everything.
Somewhere along the way, Lady Wu had already dragged Liu Bei off.
Kongming wasn't worried.
The Liaodong Righteous Cavalry still stood firm, and Chengdu no longer harbored iron-boned great clans.
To the west of the city lay a small open ground—the cavalry's training field.
Every few days, Zhao Zilong personally led drills there.
The common people climbed the city walls to watch.
The masses applauded.
The powerful trembled.
This year, people noticed something strange.
The once-arrogant great families had all become… remarkably polite.
No one knew why.
So they credited the only variable.
Lord Xuande must truly be a good man.
Knocking himself out of his drifting thoughts, Kongming returned to Chengdu.
After washing and changing at the government office, he headed behind the residence.
Just as he reached for the door—
Hiss—
He retreated instantly.
Through the door crack, he saw flames—and then thick smoke pouring out.
Moments later, several Daoist priests burst out, tumbling into the courtyard and collapsing on their backs, staring at the sky.
"So… it didn't explode?" Kongming thought regretfully.
The Daoists glared at him.
"Military Advisor Zhuge," they shouted, "are you hoping we die?"
"Of course not," Kongming denied smoothly.
"With your profound cultivation, how dangerous could a mere failed pill be?"
Indeed—Kongming's term for gunpowder was failed pill.
Trapped on the pedestal of "profound cultivation," the Daoists could only snort coldly.
Kongming observed the residue carefully.
Today's failure… felt different.
He summoned a guard, ordering him to reassure the public that the government kitchen had merely caused another mishap.
Then he sat on a clean stone with the Daoists, waiting for the smoke to clear.
One priest finally asked, miserable:
"Military Advisor… what use does this failed pill truly have?"
"We can offer our mercury refinement techniques!"
"We also possess formulas for gold-and-silver elixirs to extend Lord Xuande's life!"
Kongming was alarmed.
Breathing exercises were fine.
Those pills? Keep your heavy metal poisoning to yourselves. Absolutely not.
He waved it off casually.
"Have you heard of Master Shixi?"
The Daoists shook their heads.
Kongming smiled inwardly.
"North of Mount Huangshi flows Shixi Creek," he recited.
"One hundred and ten li southeast, it enters the sea."
"Once there lived a hidden Daoist, Hu Chao. Seekers studied under him—thus the name Shixi."
The Daoists quieted.
A hidden immortal.
Kongming continued.
"At its source lies a well—by observing it, one knows fate. Thus it was called the Well of Life."
"One disciple once crossed the well but could not comprehend it, and asked Shixi for guidance."
"Shixi laughed and said:
'The Metal Star brings seven calamities; destruction breaks the five ghosts.
The killing star meets its tribulation—slaying demons and cutting down evil.'"
The Daoists stirred.
This was unquestionably a true Daoist formula!
But what did it mean?
Kongming went on slowly.
"The disciples questioned him endlessly.
At last he said:
'Without destruction, there can be no establishment.
To establish is to destroy.
Through sorrow, one breaks and builds.'"
"Then," Kongming finished lightly,
"Master Shixi entered his chamber and ascended in broad daylight."
Daylight ascension!
The Daoists pondered deeply.
At last, one exclaimed:
"Military Advisor means—
to establish, one must first destroy?
That even a failed pill may become the Dao?"
Kongming smiled and nodded.
Your words, not mine.
The Daoists erupted with excitement and charged back inside.
This time, they burned with motivation.
They would refine the pill the Military Advisor spoke of.
No—
It should be called:
The Pill of Great Destruction.