As a transmigrator, Liu Guangzheng naturally could not be unaware of the dangers lurking behind this trend. But he knew even better that if he lost the war, then he would have nothing left.
So he might as well make money—make money like mad. In faith and spirit, he truly could not match Zhao Cheng, who had the cheat of a thought-branding iron seal. But when it came to making money, he had a chance to overtake on the bend.
And with more money came greater development. As long as the snowball started rolling, in the end it would be no more than making the common people suffer a little...
Liu Guangzheng even considered that once the great capital within the court had developed, he would have them form private armies and go beyond the Divine Province to stake out land and run the slave trade. The principle was simple: everyone made money together. Not a single cotton plant would be grown in vain—they would all become bullets fired into that Zhao bandit...
As for Cao Zheng, though he did not understand capital, as one who rode the tides of this age, he keenly sensed the changes within it. Yet even he, constrained by his understanding, found it difficult to foresee where this would lead.
The tides of the age rolled ever onward, and now even he, a rider of those tides, was lost.
Of course, even being lost did not prevent him from making the "correct" judgment: stand with the stronger side.
Without realizing it, the night had already grown deep. Cao Zheng felt a touch of drowsiness, so he descended the watchtower and returned to his tent. Attended by his servants, he washed his face and soaked his feet before finally falling into a deep sleep.
Cao Zheng