Chapter 60: The Scapegoat Princess Consort Sentenced to Death (End)

Faced with Ding Shui's response, the new crown prince, Zhu An, could only remain rooted to the spot in a daze, answering with silence, because he had no idea how to reply or what to do.

Question her? He dared not...
Nor did he have the face to question anything.

After all, he was well aware that Lady Meng was entirely innocent. It was his imperial father who had wanted to protect both his own reputation and his thirteenth brother, the Prince of Lu, which led to Lady Meng being wrongfully scapegoated and ordered to commit suicide. On this point, the imperial family was in the wrong.
His imperial father was in the wrong.

He was not as shameless as his father; he could not manage to accuse others righteously when the fault lay entirely with himself.

Of course, more importantly, the means and capabilities the other party had just demonstrated were by no means something an ordinary mortal or ordinary spirit could achieve. At least as far as his own understanding went, it was unprecedented, and whether there would ever be anyone like her afterwards was hard to say. Even if he wanted to resist, to fight back, and to make her release his imperial father, it would likely serve no purpose other than to enrage her, having zero effect or utility.

Rationality and emotion fought fiercely in his mind.

After a long while, he let out a long sigh and asked:
"What do you want me to cooperate with you to do?"

No matter how he thought about it, Zhu An felt he had neither the capacity nor the room to resist. Since resistance was futile, he might as well first hear what she wanted him to do.

A puppet crown prince was still a crown prince, and a puppet emperor was still an emperor; that was infinitely better than defying her and dropping dead on the spot.

"Actually, I can do these things myself right now, but I have no desire to credit these achievements to your father—namely, the Tianwu Emperor. Otherwise, what would I need you for? So don't sit there looking so unwilling, as if you're being hard done by.
Come, take a look. This is the plan I've drawn up."

Out of resentment toward the Tianwu Emperor, Ding Shui did not want him to gain any political achievements before his death under any circumstances. Therefore, the policy revision plans she had previously decided upon could naturally not be executed using the Tianwu Emperor's body. She had no choice but to let these solid political achievements fall directly into the lap of the new crown prince, Zhu An.

Of course, this referred to the future centuries later; at present, it could hardly be considered a political achievement. At least the officials, nobles, and the imperial clan would certainly not acknowledge it, and instead would likely accuse Ding Shui's reforms of being turbulent misrule and wanton tyranny.

After all, those new policies directly harmed their vested interests.

Having said that, Ding Shui handed the new policy plan, written a month prior, to Zhu An. Zhu An took it with considerable curiosity and began to read it carefully. Then, the more he read, the more shocked he became, eventually reaching a state of panic and terror. Before he had even finished reading, he looked at Ding Shui with an expression of utter disbelief and angrily demanded:
"What on earth are you trying to do? You call this an achievement?"
"You're trying to make me die a burial-less death!"

Zhu An was not a stupid man. Although he hadn't finished reading the entire plan, just the portion he had flipped through sent cold sweat streaming down his back. Admittedly, these plans all looked quite good. If they were truly implemented to perfection, it would undoubtedly be of immense benefit to consolidating the rule of their Zhu family. He might even go down in history as an eternal emperor, regardless of how ancient and modern emperors were ranked.
At the very least, he could contend for a spot in the top three or five.

But the crux of the matter was: could they really be implemented?

Almost every single new policy went against the vested interest groups. Unifying the gentry's corvée labor and grain taxes undoubtedly offended the vast gentry class; channeling the melt-age fees into the public treasury offended the local tax clerks who used this method to line their pockets; apportioning the poll tax according to the land acreage offended the entire landlord class; and the subsequent lowering of hereditary titles, along with the requirement of performance evaluations for inheriting titles, offended the nobility.

As for the abolition of regional vassal fiefs mentioned further down, he hadn't reached it yet, but even without seeing it, the groups offended by the preceding policies had already filled him with extreme panic—it was practically turning the whole world into his enemy.

In fact, he now somewhat suspected that Ding Shui wanted to use him, the crown prince, as the blade to execute these policies, and then, in the event of failure, sacrifice him as the crown prince to appease the potential turmoil across the realm.
Even if it succeeded, he probably wouldn't have much of a good reputation.

However... how could it possibly succeed?

In just an instant, Zhu An's gaze toward Ding Shui was once again filled with wariness. He felt that Ding Shui was simply trying to harm him. With maneuvers like these, even if his own biological father were here, his heart would likely flutter with dread and he wouldn't dare to execute them.

After all, once these policies were enforced, he would essentially have no friends left, and the emperor would truly become a lonely man.

"Rest assured, I won't harm you. If I really wanted to harm you, there'd be no need to go through all this trouble. I know these new reforms might cause trouble, but the benefits are also self-evident.
Besides, I am not discussing this with you; I am notifying you and asking for your cooperation. If you don't cooperate, I have plenty of ways to make you cooperate. After all, I can even control your father's body; controlling yours is no big deal either.
What... never mind, let me give you a taste of it."

Ding Shui lacked considerable confidence in her own powers of persuasion, feeling it would be difficult to convince Zhu An to fully cooperate through grand principles and reasoning. Therefore, after some thought, she decided that seeing is believing. With that, she withdrew her soul from the Tianwu Emperor's body, slipped into Zhu An's body, and squeezed him right out of it.

The result was that in the very next second, Zhu An felt his entire being floating and weightless in a trance, and then he saw a stranger-than-familiar version of himself grinning and laughing broadly.

Fortunately, Ding Shui had warned him in advance that he would experience it firsthand, so he wasn't entirely at a loss as to what state he was in. But precisely because he understood, he panicked even more, desperately trying to burrow back into his own body.
It was utterly useless. Not only was it useless, but he could also clearly feel his soul rapidly weakening.

If this continued, even if he didn't die, he would fall gravely ill. Consequently, Ding Shui had no choice but to hurriedly exit his body and allow his soul to smoothly return to its place.

Having returned to his body, Zhu An staggered slightly due to the minor damage his soul had sustained. He steadied his physical shell by holding onto a nearby chair, panting heavily as he looked at Ding Shui with lingering fear and terror.

It was real—everything was actually real.
This entity could truly capture souls and seize spirits.

At that moment, he thoroughly understood that he had no possibility of refusal whatsoever. A bitter smile involuntarily crossed his face as he said:
"I simply don't understand why you're doing all this. Even if these things are truly accomplished, there's no great benefit in it for you, is there? Won't the realm still belong to the Zhu family in the end?
Logically speaking, shouldn't you hate us? Hating my imperial father while simultaneously hating all members of the Zhu family?"

"If it weren't for the sake of the people's suffering and not wanting the realm to plunge into chaos, do you think I'd be willing to spare your Zhu family?
Ancient immortals with abilities are expected to do some good for the world; I couldn't possibly use my abilities solely for revenge. The powers I've displayed thus far are merely trivial, amusing jests. Before officially implementing these new reforms,
I will take you to see my secret base.
Then you will know what my foundation of confidence is."

Originally, Ding Shui hadn't wanted to go through all this trouble. After all, even if she did nothing else and simply had her younger sister offer up those high-yielding quality seeds and superior livestock offspring, it would have been more than enough to leave her family's name in the history books and secure an ultimate protective talisman, ensuring no one would dare to risk moving against them.

However, going that route, Ding Shui truly couldn't guarantee whether those high-yielding quality seeds and superior livestock offspring would ever flow down to the common people. After all, hoarding commodities for huge profits and even blocking the flow of commerce from top to bottom were instincts among the gentry families.

If she produced such wonderful things only for them to ultimately become a means for gentry officials and nobility to amass wealth,
Ding Shui felt she would literally be angered to death.

Coupled with the unexpected stroke and critical condition of the Tianwu Emperor—which required her to temporarily possess his body to stabilize the situation—since she was already here and had already become emperor, doing a bit extra on the side was simply a matter of convenience.

Still, some things ultimately required seeing to be believed.
Therefore, Ding Shui did not elaborate too much.
She planned to take him to the planting base later to explain in detail.

"No matter how confident you are, those new reforms must never be implemented all at once! At the very least, we must go slowly, one by one. Promulgate one first, thoroughly suppress the group targeted by that specific reform, stabilize the situation, and only then promulgate another. Dealing with them one by one gives us a sliver of a chance of success."

Since he couldn't reason with her and couldn't refuse,
Zhu An could only offer suggestions, hoping at least to give these new reforms a shred of hope for success. If they were all forced through together, success was utterly impossible, and the entire world would inevitably rise in rebellion.

To this, Ding Shui simply rolled her eyes at him:

"I'm not stupid; do I need you to remind me of that? I was just letting you see my plan, not saying we're executing them all at once. The simplest, least resistant, and most urgently needed new policy is on the very last page—you didn't see it. That is the abolition of the vassal fiefs. We can take advantage of the fact that all the regional princes across the country are currently gathered in the capital to wipe them out in one fell swoop.
If we miss this opportunity, the next time we'll likely have to wait until your imperial father's body reaches his seventieth or eightieth birthday,
or until he dies.
Only by coming to mourn at his funeral could we gather them together like this again.
But I have no intention of letting him live that long, so only a funeral will bring people together again like this. Yet, abolishing the fiefs right before a coffin sounds unseemly; it's still better to abolish the fiefs while your imperial father's body appears to still be alive so that the dissenting voices will be smaller. I'm doing this for your sake, too.
Well? Any objections?"

Zhu An didn't speak. Instead, he hurriedly picked up the plan he hadn't finished reading earlier and carefully examined the remaining part—the section on abolishing the vassal fiefs.

It offered local vassal princes two choices:
First, to relinquish all fiefdoms and other powers and live as a peaceful, leisurely prince in the capital; second, to head to regions beyond the borders of the imperial domain, carve out a territory for themselves, and truly establish an independent feudal state, requiring only annual tribute.

In short, princes with a taste for adventure and ambition could go out and build their own enterprises, while those without ambition who were content to be idle princes could live a comfortable life in the capital.

Additionally, restrictions in all aspects would be much fewer.
Although they couldn't wander about recklessly, as long as they requested and obtained permission to go traveling or the like, it would be entirely fine. Overall, it was much freer than in the past.
The corresponding tradeoff, however, was that their power would be significantly reduced.

In truth, from his perspective, he would much prefer the first option to be enforced exclusively—bringing all the vassal princes to the capital to be watched right under his own nose. After all, those princes sent out to the borders would ultimately remain a hidden hazard. What if, after four or five generations of struggling out there, their strength grew and they turned around to bite back?
Was it not how the State of Qin relied on the accumulated might of six generations
that it ultimately destroyed the other six states?

Yet he also knew he had no right to speak up before Ding Shui, so he merely offered a tentative hint. Seeing the look of displeasure on Ding Shui's face, he said no more.

With both parties finally reaching a tacit understanding,
things became much easier to handle.

The next day, Ding Shui gave Zhu An one final helping hand by personally issuing an imperial decree to abolish the vassal fiefs. Since all those regional princes were currently the Tianwu Emperor's sons, his abolishing the fiefs fell under the category of a father disciplining his sons; no matter how dissatisfied they were, they had to take it.
If Zhu An were to ascend the throne and abolish the fiefs himself,
people would inevitably view him as callous, ungrateful, and harsh toward his brothers. In short, it would certainly not do his reputation any favors.

The entire process of abolishing the fiefs lasted three days. Those princes cried and made a fuss, but since Ding Shui had made up her mind, their crying and fussing were useless. Most importantly, neither the civil and military officials nor the nobility were willing to support them.

After all, having enjoyed peace and prosperity for so many years, who didn't harbor some grievances against them? Or rather, the resentment stemmed not from scarcity, but from inequality. In any case, a commotion was merely an internal affair of the imperial family.
They were far too lazy to get involved.

At the moment, they were all simply watching the spectacle, completely unaware of the severity of the issue and that this was merely the beginning.

Since an arm cannot twist a thigh, those regional princes ultimately had no choice but to surrender their respective powers. They then sent men back to their fiefdoms to pack up their wives, children, servants, slaves, and all their family property, hauling everything back to the capital.
Even those who had already brought their children along
had to go back to move their family property over.

As for going beyond the borders to conquer the world—even with the court willing to offer some assistance, not a single person was willing to go. Who would voluntarily go out there and suffer that hardship? The words sounded grand—go out and directly carve out a feudal domain, with every inch of land conquered becoming your fief—but what if you failed? Failure meant losing your life; what good was a feudal title then?

At this, Ding Shui was actually somewhat disappointed.
Crown Prince Zhu An, however, breathed a sigh of relief.

Still, Ding Shui did not force the matter. Once the abolition of the vassal fiefs concluded smoothly, she secretly took Zhu An in the middle of the night to visit the Taoist temple where her younger sister lived, showing him the high-yielding crops and livestock of exceptionally fine quality.
Naturally, she had coordinated with her sister in advance,
so the process went smoothly without a hitch.

Upon seeing those high-yielding superior seeds, Zhu An, who previously had only a thirty percent confidence in completing the new policy plan, instantly felt that with the backing of these high-yielding seeds, his confidence rose to at least seventy percent. Most importantly, his reputation shouldn't turn out too poorly. After all, as long as these high-yielding seeds emerged during his reign, no matter how much he offended the literati and was smeared by them, such a massive achievement could ultimately never be erased.

Valuing both his living and posthumous reputation deeply, he finally breathed a sigh of relief, feeling he could safely throw himself into working with Ding Shui.

Immediately following this, at the next grand morning assembly, Ding Shui very decisively announced that her prior illness had not fully healed and she had merely been forcing herself through recent days. Since she still lacked energy, she decided to abdicate and yield the throne, transitioning to the role of Grand Emperor.

There was no need to describe how shocked the civil and military officials and nobility were. At the same time, not daring to be certain—or rather, not daring to ascertain what the current emperor truly meant—they all spoke up to urge him to stay.

No matter how joyful they felt inside,
and no matter how much they wished he would just abdicate through sudden death,
on the surface everyone still insisted that Your Majesty remained young, healthy, and full of vigor, and such a wise and martial leader must absolutely not step down; he had to continue leading them.

Crown Prince Zhu An also declined according to protocol.
It was precisely at this moment that some seasoned political foxes guessed that the current sovereign might genuinely wish to abdicate, because the crown prince displayed no panic whatsoever, merely refusing with a gentle smile.
According to their understanding, if the crown prince were ignorant of the matter, he would most likely panic tremendously, terrified that the sovereign was displeased with him or plotting something. After all, sovereigns who voluntarily abdicated to become Grand Emperors were exceedingly rare throughout history; virtually all of them had been coerced or "volunteered" under duress.

Yet the crown prince's current serene refusal
strongly suggested that father and son had long since prearranged the matter. Although a real abdication felt somewhat incredible, and they even suspected that the Tianwu Emperor had lost his mind given all the bizarre moves he had made lately,
they still actively cooperated.

They cooperated in executing the ritual of "three declinations and three offerings."
Strictly speaking, this ritual ought to have taken three full days to complete, but Ding Shui truly couldn't be bothered to waste that kind of time, nor was she all that fond of being the emperor. Waking up before dawn every day to review memorials—especially when the ministers, particularly the civil officials, wrote memorials that sounded thoroughly detached from human speech—gave her a headache. Therefore, Ding Shui stubbornly compressed the entire procedure into a single day, swiftly wrapping it up right during the morning court session.

In the morning, she was still the emperor.
By evening, upon returning, she had become the Grand Emperor.
It was all about efficiency!

It could be said that upon leaving the court, the minds of quite a few ministers were still in a fog, utterly failing to understand why the Tianwu Emperor, who clearly looked to be in good health with no major ailments, would suddenly abdicate. Who goes to recuperate with a ruddy complexion?

Nevertheless, out of caution, the majority of ministers ultimately decided not to rush into pledging loyalty to the newly enthroned emperor. After all, should the Tianwu Emperor merely be faking his abdication while still retaining supreme authority behind the scenes, the new emperor would be no different from a crown prince regent, merely possessing the title of emperor. In the absence of clarity regarding the specific situation, most fence-sitters had yet to decide whether to switch sides.

Soon, however, they discovered
that the development of events far exceeded their expectations.

The Tianwu Emperor surrendered his power with absolute thoroughness—so thoroughly that he announced his abdication during the morning session, completed the abdication ceremony at noon just in time for lunch, and moved out to an auxiliary palace by evening.
He surrendered core palace complexes such as the Zichen Palace
in their entirety to the new emperor.

Furthermore, all the power in his hands, including the inner palace imperial guards and a series of other personnel, was handed over to the new emperor as well. He personally announced that he would wholeheartedly recuperate and temporarily receive no visitors.

To tell the truth, had they not known of the Tianwu Emperor's capabilities,
some individuals would have suspected that he had been overthrown in a coup and placed under house arrest.

After that, the main focus shifted to the new emperor stabilizing the situation at court in the front palace, promoting his trusted aides, and thereby thoroughly seizing supreme control over the affairs of state. As for Ding Shui, she had already departed the Tianwu Emperor's body, used the synthesis system to restore his physical form back to its original state—namely, paralyzed on one side from a stroke—and thereafter fed him a generous bowl of potent arsenic-based poison every single day.

He didn't even need to eat regular meals after taking it;
the poison alone was enough to stuff him full.

Every time the Tianwu Emperor was on the verge of being poisoned to death, Ding Shui would hurriedly use the synthesis system to amalgamate those toxins into his fingernails or hair, and then pull out his fingernails and pluck out his hair, effectively counteracting the poison.
The next day, he could continue eating.

After feeding him this way for a period of time—until every single fingernail, toenail, and even his hair had been completely pulled out—Ding Shui ceased using the synthesis system to sustain his life. Instead, she synthesized a large quantity of blood clots for him, clogging his brain completely within moments.

The massive influx of blood clots caused the Tianwu Emperor to drop dead on the spot.
From that moment on, the original host's lingering grievances were thoroughly dissipated.

Following the Tianwu Emperor's demise, Ding Shui naturally notified the new emperor. The messy aftermath that followed—collecting the corpse, concealing the wounds on his body, and managing the specific funeral arrangements—was entirely handed over to the new emperor, Zhu An, with zero need for worry that he would fail to put his heart into it.

For one thing, the deceased was his biological father, and performing these duties, including handling the funeral, was entirely his due responsibility.
For another, he dared not let anyone else see the wounds on the Tianwu Emperor's body. If outsiders were to discover that the Tianwu Emperor's fingers, toes, and hair were completely gone, the outside world would inevitably speculate and suspect that he had abused and murdered his own father. Even the legitimacy and orthodox succession of his imperial throne would be called into question.

As for Ding Shui, she had absolutely nothing to worry about.
After all, who could possibly suspect a deceased person?

For these reasons, no matter how depressed or dissatisfied Zhu An felt inwardly, he had no alternative. He could only do his utmost to help cover things up, playing the role of the filial and virtuous descendant to send his imperial father off on his final journey.

Next came the period of mourning.
And upon the conclusion of the mourning period, the continued strenuous effort to consolidate power.

The new policies Ding Shui had ordered him to enact were something Zhu An would not dare to promulgate under any circumstances while his succession to power remained unstable and before he had promoted his own confidants.
He didn't even dare to let his intentions leak out.

Meanwhile, Ding Shui had already moved back to her younger sister's place and continued consuming the remaining energy within the Super Synthesis System to conduct more synthesis experiments. Until this golden finger's energy was entirely exhausted and it broke down, she certainly wouldn't return; otherwise, wouldn't that be wasteful?

She might not possess many noble and virtuous qualities, but frugality was undoubtedly one of them.

And so, to avoid waste and help her younger sister, Meng萱 (Meng Xuan), acquire more land to expand cultivation and breed more seeds for future planting, half a year after the new emperor's ascension, Ding Shui casually disassembled several imperial mansion estates that she had previously swept into her synthesis storage space without knowing where to discard, turning them into raw materials and selling them off.

The imperial mausoleums had already been used to smash the ancestral temple, but the imperial estates she had previously confiscated had remained tucked away in her synthesis storage space. Now, after sorting through them, dismantling them, and selling them off,
not only did the synthesis storage space become vastly more spacious and tidy, but she also conveniently reaped nearly one hundred thousand liang of silver.

Even though land near the capital was expensive, one hundred thousand liang could purchase quite a lot. Coupled with the cooperation of the new emperor, who specially transferred tight-lipped tenant farmers from the imperial estates to assist with the cultivation,
the breeding of superior crop seeds and livestock offspring
expanded remarkably smoothly.

Ultimately, two and a half years later—that is, in the third year of the new emperor's reign—Meng Xuan presented the yields, explicitly stating that these seeds had been bestowed by the Goddess of Clear Skies, that she herself was merely an intermediary, and that she had merely helped cultivate them for a few years.
She was unwilling to monopolize the credit belonging to her older sister.

Ding Shui had originally wanted her younger sister Meng Xuan to take all the credit, or at worst bring their parents into it, claiming they had all worked hard together to find these seeds in the wilderness or overseas and cultivated them accordingly.
Yet Meng Xuan argued that the flaws in such a story would be too glaring.

It might even implicate the entire family in endless harassment; it would be far better to simply speak the truth and say they were bestowed by the Goddess of Clear Skies,
while knowing nothing else of the matter.
After all, no one could possibly go harass the Goddess of Clear Skies.

Persuaded by Meng Xuan, and with Zhu An also feeling that the notion of a divine bestowal would be more advantageous for his subsequent implementation of the new reforms, Ding Shui finally gave her consent.

Anyway, outsiders had no idea who the Goddess of Clear Skies was.
Moreover, the synthesis system's energy had bottomed out, and before long she would be leaving this world anyway, so it hardly mattered.

After that, everything followed the normal conventional course.
Officials who doubted the claims were swiftly proven wrong. Once verified as authentic, crowds of people went wild, declaring that His Majesty must indeed be a sagely sovereign for immortals to bestow such superior seeds upon him.

Consequently, the Goddess of Clear Skies was officially enfeoffed as a orthodox deity.
Meng Xuan was bestowed the title of First-Rank Guardian State Goddess (Youguo Yuanjun).

Initially, they had wanted to confer the title of princess (junzhu), but the ministers unanimously agreed that since she was a Taoist nun, she should naturally receive a Taoist honorific title. In Taoism, the highest rank for a living person was generally First-Rank Zhenren (Perfected Person), but Zhenren were mostly conferred upon male Taoists rather than nuns. Furthermore, many female immortals bore the title of Yuanjun, so they made an exception and enfeoffed her as a First-Rank Yuanjun,
with status equivalent to a wife of a super-rank nobility title, exempt from bowing upon seeing the ruler.

As the relevant news spread across the realm—especially as the high-yielding seeds were successively disseminated—Zhu An's prestige reached its peak, and only then did he begin methodically implementing the new policies.

Ultimately, it took him fifteen years
to completely finalize Ding Shui's new policy plan.
Historically, this period was known as the Xingwu Reformation, while the final decade of the Tianwu reign and the thirty-four years of the Xingwu reign were collectively hailed as the Tianxing Prosperous Era.

By that time, Ding Shui had long since departed this world—to be precise, she had left fourteen years prior, less than a year after Emperor Xingwu Zhu An first began implementing the new policies. Therefore, his continued implementation of the reforms later on was not out of fear of Ding Shui's threats, but because he genuinely understood that those policies were beneficial for consolidating imperial power.

With sufficient prestige and a solid foundation of confidence,
why wouldn't he continue to enforce them?
Not only did he enforce them, but before his death, he even specifically established ancestral precepts locking certain policies in place, forbidding later generations from modifying them.

As for the ultimate outcome? Suffice it to say that descendants can sometimes be unfilial.