Inside the Imperial Palace, a burst of laughter rang out. It was unrestrained, hearty, and echoing through the golden halls with the arrogance of someone who feared no reproach.
This laughter did not belong to one of the peerless imperial concubines; none of them would dare break the bounds of etiquette in such a brazen manner. Not even the Mother Empress, dignified and regal, would laugh so wantonly.
The princes and princesses, no matter how favored, would still uphold the iron rules of palace mannerism.
As for the servants, they would sooner cut off their tongues than laugh so boldly before the dragon throne.
Thus, the identity of this presumptuous laughter required no guessing.
It was His Majesty, the Emperor of Tian Xiang himself.
The ruler's face gleamed with delight, his hand clutching a smooth white chess piece as he muttered to himself while laughing:
"This… this is an exquisite trick! Unusual, yet ingenious. Hahaha! To think, in my Tian Xiang, there exists someone capable of producing clouds with a flip of the hand and summoning rain with another! Truly marvelous… truly marvelous!"
His laughter was both amused and tinged with admiration, rolling across the polished jade floors like thunder.
Opposite him sat a man dressed in white, clothes as immaculate as freshly fallen snow. He seemed ageless, yet his presence alone could silence a hall. His posture was perfectly upright, shoulders squared, back straight like a pine tree that had stood for a thousand years. His black hair, smooth as ink, fell across his shoulders, while a distinguished tri-forked beard flowed to his chest. His face, however, was startlingly smooth, not a wrinkle to betray the years, as fair and flawless as a lady's skin.
This man's face was calm and unwavering, studying the chessboard intently.
"The move is indeed exquisite," He said at last, his voice deep yet composed. "That person's wine must be worth savoring. But even if it were a heavenly secret, its worth cannot possibly exceed ten thousand silver taels per bottle..."
"Yet through this method, he has managed to make the great families compete against one another. He may even raise the price higher. It is clever indeed! But…" His sharp eyes narrowed, "…when Your Majesty speaks of producing clouds with one hand and rain with another… that is exaggeration. He is not yet so capable."
"Oh?" The Emperor's lips curled into a profound smile, the gleam in his eyes betraying both amusement and certainty. He set his chess piece down with a soft tap.
"In my eyes… he is."
The white-robed man's brows lifted slightly. "What does Your Majesty mean?"
Though seated before the Son of Heaven himself, there was no trace of submissiveness in his bearing. His tone was direct, his gaze unwavering—like one mountain facing another.
The Emperor's smile deepened. He stroked his beard slowly and spoke with the weight of thunder wrapped in silk.
"This plan for selling wine—it appears simple. So simple, in fact, that anyone would think they could do the same. Yet why has no one, in all these years, managed to conceive it? Because behind this 'simplicity' lies a grasp of something few dare to touch—the hearts of men."
His voice grew heavier, each word falling like a stone into the silence of the hall.
"To lay such a scheme, one must first understand human nature—its weaknesses, its desires. One must dissect it, layer by layer, until even the most hidden vanity is laid bare. Nobles, commoners, hoodlums, beggars—it matters not. Every man has a weakness. Whoever can seize that weakness… can control them all. Even officials in my court would bow their heads unknowingly. And this," his fingers tightened slightly on the chess piece, "is only the foundation… the first step."
The Emperor's eyes glimmered with rare admiration as he let out a low sigh.
"This man has a gift for understanding the hearts of men."
The white-robed man's gaze flickered, but his face remained unreadable, calm as still water.
The Emperor continued, his tone rising like a judge declaring a verdict:
"Second! Consider those who entered the hall today. Do you think any of them will leave empty-handed? Impossible. Even if the wine were vinegar, they would still purchase it. Why? Because it is no longer about wine—it is about face!"
A cold smile tugged at the Emperor's lips.
"Outside, countless eyes are waiting. Those without invitations are gathered, eager to see the so-called 'great aristocrats' humiliated. Do you think any nobleman who entered will dare walk out empty-handed, to be mocked by the entire capital? No! Each will bid, each will fight, each will throw away silver like water—gladly! Spending ten thousand taels in front of the whole city is no loss. On the contrary, it becomes proof of status, of wealth, of superiority."
His voice dropped to a low murmur, half ridicule, half admiration:
"This man does not sell wine. He sells vanity. And that… is priceless."
The Emperor set down another chess piece with a crisp click.
"This is why he deserves to amass wealth beyond imagination. Pity the others, though—gnawing at each other like starving wolves, all while lining his pockets."
The white-robed man remained silent, his expression unreadable, but a faint light stirred in his eyes.
The Emperor's voice sharpened again, his tone now like a blade cloaked in velvet.
"And third!" He leaned forward slightly, eyes flashing like twin torches. "The invitation list. At first glance, it seems all the great families of the capital are included. But look carefully, and you will see—it is incomplete."
The white-robed man frowned faintly. "Incomplete?"
"Indeed. Every business has rivals. Balance must be maintained, lest the market collapse. For years, I have ensured equilibrium—neither side ever growing too strong, both kept in check. But this man's list? Whether intentional or not, it shatters that balance entirely. It pits rivals directly against one another, forcing them into reckless escalation. Prices will soar, enmities will deepen… and all the while, he remains invisible, untouched."
The Emperor's gaze turned cold, a shadow flickering in the depths of his eyes.
"I cannot even trace a single flaw. Even if I wished to blame someone, whom could I strike? He leaves no openings."
For the first time, the unflappable white-robed man looked unsettled. His calm eyes revealed a hint of puzzlement, as though struggling to unravel a riddle that even he found confounding.
"Heh heh…" His Majesty let out another low, knowing laugh.
"I'll explain with an example," The Emperor said, setting a white chess piece down with a deliberate tap that echoed through the quiet hall. His eyes gleamed sharply as he looked across at his opponent.
"The Sun, the Mu, and the Zhao families—surely you are aware of them? Three of the most prominent forces in the capital's salt market. Together, they form a tripod upon which the industry rests."
His tone shifted, becoming almost leisurely, as if narrating a tale rather than discussing state matters.
"Of the three, the Zhao family stands tallest. Their schemes, their wealth, their foundations—they have long overshadowed the others. The Sun and Mu families are weaker, yes, but not insignificant. They have, in fact, joined hands more than once to check Zhao's dominance. Thus, the three legs maintain balance—push one, and the other two resist. Equilibrium is preserved."
He paused, narrowing his eyes as his fingers toyed with the next chess piece, rolling it slowly against the board.
"But now…" His Majesty's lips curved into a half-smile, half-sneer. "This so-called 'Aristocratic Hall' invites the Zhao family alone. Not a word to Sun, not a whisper to Mu. As though these two old houses, whose foundations are worth millions, simply do not exist!"
The white-robed man's brows twitched slightly, though he remained silent.
The Emperor leaned back, stroking his beard with deliberate slowness, his voice now low and magnetic, like silk concealing a blade.
"Tell me... can anyone accuse the one behind the Aristocratic Hall of bias? No, because he has, in fact, invited the most powerful family in the salt market—the Zhao. Who dares deny Zhao's authority? Who dares say they are not the industry's rightful face?"
The white-robed man exhaled lightly, eyes lowering to the board. "So that's his move…"
"Yes!" The Emperor's hand dropped the chess piece onto the board with a crisp sound. His gaze flashed with a mix of admiration and concern.
"This method, selecting only the strongest representatives in each trade, is viciously efficient. It isolates, it elevates, and it provokes. It has already been used in several industries before, always reaping staggering profits. And now… he dares apply it here, in the heart of my capital!"
The Emperor's expression darkened, his tone sharpening like a whip.
"Imagine it: those invited, emboldened, arrogant, flaunting their status as though the heavens themselves favored them. And those excluded? Burning with indignation, gnashing their teeth, seething that they have been slighted, cast aside like weeds at the roadside. Pride will be wounded. Rage will fester. And soon enough… chaos will bloom."
He leaned forward, his gaze locking onto the white-robed man with the intensity of a hawk descending upon prey.
"All this reveals only one thing…" His Majesty's voice dropped to a cold whisper, each syllable measured and deliberate.
"This person... the mastermind behind the Aristocratic Hall is no ordinary merchant. He is a master of tactics. A true schemer who knows the art of turning men's hearts into his own weapons."
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