The Beginning of the Uprising

At the Mao hour after nightfall, Along the central axis running through the entirety of immense Di'an City, a lone carriage sped through the rainy night. The imperial road beneath its wheels stood several zhang above the ground, straight and endless as it led directly to the palace city atop the mountain.

Night hung low over Di'an City, black as ink as it shrouded the lights of ten thousand homes.

Autumn rain tapped softly against the window curtains, while scattered points of firelight spilled along the way.

Incense smoke curled gently. Sitting alone within the luxurious carriage, the man's long hair was bound with meticulous precision. Silent, he cast a sidelong glance at the scene beyond the window.

The vast Di'an City had already fallen asleep. Only the lights of those districts that never slept still reveled beneath the pouring rain.

The man quietly watched the distant prosperity, watching the hysteria concealed beneath that scene of songs, dances, and peace.

Almost unconsciously, the man withdrew his gaze, frowned deeply, and looked toward the low table before him.

There lay a memorial.

Across the vermilion cover of the paper, fresh ink still wet, vigorous strokes had written words that heralded immense change:

"Immortal Tax Law."

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Xu Yuan stared at the personally written memorial for a long while without speaking.

The carriage raced onward, its hooves splashing through puddles, while the royal family's specially supplied incense soothed the senses.

He had lived through war and witnessed death.

Yet everything he had seen and heard along this journey amounted to less than a hair from nine oxen compared to this single letter.

As he drifted into thought, a faint rustling quietly reached his ears.

Turning to look, he saw a cloud of invisible smoke.

It seeped in through the gaps, then gradually