Inside the Chengdu government office, the air hung thick with the scent of old ink and the fading hum of a miracle.
The men gathered there, the sharpest minds of the era, had finally stolen a moment to breathe and look back over the storm of text that had just swept across their vision.
The Light Screen had a habit of arriving with the suddenness of a lightning bolt, giving them exactly zero time to prepare the sacrificial offerings needed to reach across time.
During the brief stillness after the screen stopped its frantic scrolling, Kongming, ever the man of action, had practically dragged Zhang Song out of the building.
As a local, Zhang Song knew the city's layout like the back of his hand.
They had returned in short order, Kongming clutching two modest clay jars in his hands.
He had offered them up to the descendant on the other side with a calm and unhurried grace that betrayed nothing of the absurdity of the act.
Now Kongming took the handwritten transcripts from Pang Tong. His eyes tracked across the copied words with a hawk's precision. He paused at the mention of Cao Cao's skull being subjected to future research, and a ghost of a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
"It seems the Cao Cao has finally contributed something of genuine value to the world," Kongming said. His tone came out dry and deceptively light. "Even in death, his remains serve as a syllabus for the future."
Pang Tong, however, had already turned his mind to larger matters. He leaned over and tapped a finger against a specific section of the notes.
"Set aside Cao Cao's skull for a moment, Kongming. Look at this. They speak of a whaling industry as one of the pillars of this so-called Industrial Revolution. What under Heaven is a whale?"
Kongming smoothed his sleeves. His thoughts were already racing ahead. "A whale. The ancient texts mention them. Creatures of the deep, vast enough to swallow entire ships. They grow to sixty feet in length and thirty feet in height. How does a man even begin to hunt a mountain of flesh like that?"
"More to the point, why would a man even want to?" Pang Tong shot back.
He had clearly been chewing on this for some time. "But then I turned it over in my mind. A whale is still just a fish. And if it is a fish, it holds meat, skin, oil, and bone. A peasant knows what to do with those. But the sheer scale of the thing... a single creature could yield ten thousand pounds of meat."
He paused, and a glint of something sharp passed through his eyes. Genuine greed, perhaps, or simply the hunger of strategic ambition.
"After watching that demonstration on canning, it clicked into place. If you can preserve that much meat, a single whale becomes a floating gold mine."
The logic held, but Kongming was not ready to start building a deep-sea fleet just yet. He shook his head.
"To hunt such a beast, you would need ocean-faring vessels, metallurgy far beyond our current reach, and supply chains that do not yet exist. If we already possessed the ships and the iron to bring down a sea monster, we would not need the whale meat to win a war."
Zhang Fei's voice cut in like a drum. "If we had those ships, I'd stop worrying about fish and go take Yizhou or Zhuyai. I'd sail all the way to the Southern Seas just to see what the fuss is about!"
A short silence settled over the room. It was a fine dream, but they were still a long march from the ocean, let alone a naval revolution, they had not even reclaimed the Central Plains.
Kongming understood that the cost of forging such technology would climb beyond anything they could bear. The Silk Road would have to be their primary engine of wealth for a long time before they could dream of the deep blue.
Kongming shifted the focus back to more immediate, practical matters. He pointed to the health directives from the screen.
"No raw water. No raw food. Drive away the mosquitoes and vermin. The future summarizes these things with such brutal clarity. It is a pity our medicine is still catching up. Lord, we must issue a decree to the people of Shu immediately."
Liu Bei nodded. A simple intervention, carried out at almost no cost, could spare thousands of lives.
His eyes drifted toward Fa Zheng, the strategist whom future historians would label his most favored confidant.
At that moment, Fa Zheng was watching Pang Tong with an expression of quiet and unmasked reverence, clearly committing to memory how true masters conducted themselves.
A shadow of melancholy passed through Liu Bei's chest. He understood all too well the toll this war exacted on the men around him.
"Zichu, Xiaozhi." Liu Bei fixed his gaze on Liu Ba and Fa Zheng.
"The records say both of you departed this world far too soon. Engrave these three rules into your minds as if they were your own names. The moment the Divine Doctor Zhang Zhongjing or his disciples set foot in Chengdu, you will submit to regular examinations. There will be no argument. I will not stand by and watch my finest minds fall to a fever that could have been stopped."
Liu Ba nodded vigorously. He had spent enough time running away from Liu Bei in the past to value the concept of a long life.
Fa Zheng, meanwhile, felt a surge of warmth at the genuine concern in his lord's voice. He had spent years being ignored by Liu Zhang, wasting his prime until the age of thirty-five.
Now that he finally had a lord worth serving, the idea of an early grave was utterly unacceptable.
Kongming interrupted the moment with a practical question. "Lord, what of the coal mines?
If we are to force the people to boil their water, we need a fuel source more efficient than wood."
Liu Bei smiled, glad to be back on firm ground. "When I was in Jiangzhou, I made a point to visit Cheng Ji of Jiangyang."
"The Lord stayed there for three full days," Pang Tong teased, a sly glint lighting his eye. "Should I assume the two of you spent the nights sharing a bed and trading philosophy?"
"Off with you," Liu Bei laughed, waving a hand in mock irritation. "Cheng Ji is a man of iron integrity, a true loyalist of the Han. We spoke at length. He promised to help me locate the coal deposits. It seems people have been gathering stone coal about a hundred li south of Jiangzhou for some time now. If he uncovers anything of substance, his messenger should already be on the road."
Kongming felt a rare sense of relief. He handed a set of organized notes to Liu Bei.
"Lord, please send a reliable messenger down the river to Gong'an immediately. These records regarding illnesses must reach Zhang Zhongjing. We also need to brief Jiang Wan, Ma Liang, and Yunchang."
Kongming had a theory that the light screen only appeared in the presence of either Liu Bei or himself.
If that was the case, the team back in Jingzhou was likely losing their minds with anxiety, wondering why the miracle had skipped them.
In the side hall of Gong'an County, the atmosphere was the polar opposite of Chengdu's excitement.
It was a tomb of silence and mounting dread.
Jiang Wan gripped his bamboo pen so hard his knuckles were white. The pristine sheet of paper before him remained mockingly blank.
Beside him, Ma Liang couldn't stop fidgeting, his eyes constantly darting toward the empty air above them as if he could force the screen into existence through sheer willpower.
Guan Yu sat nearby, as immovable as a mountain. His eyes were half-closed, but the deep furrow between his brows told everyone that the "God of War" was anything but calm.
Kongming had left strict instructions.
Jiang Wan and Ma Liang were to record every word from the screen while Guan Yu provided security.
If critical intelligence appeared, a messenger would fly to Chengdu. If it was routine, it would be filed away.
They hadn't expected the screen to simply... not show up.
As the sun passed its zenith and began its slow descent, Guan Yu finally stood up, his heavy armor clanking.
"Military affairs in Jiangling require my attention. I must return," Guan Yu said, his voice a low rumble.
He gave a polite, measured bow to the two scholars. "Do not fret, Gongyan, Jichang. With the secrets we already hold, we have enough to reshape the world even without a new light screen."
Despite his stoic words, there was a flash of disappointment in his eyes. He had been hoping to learn more about the soldiers of the future.
He wanted to know who would dare challenge the Huaxia civilization so he could add them to his list of enemies to crush.
Jiang Wan and Ma Liang sat there until dusk, eventually giving up in a state of exhaustion.
It wasn't until four days later that a messenger from Chengdu arrived with a short, blunt note from Kongming.
Seen. Recorded. Business as usual. Do not worry.
Jiang Wan, who had visibly thinned from the stress of the last few days, finally let out a breath he felt he had been holding for a week.
"Cousin, what has happened to cause such a loss of composure?"
The voice belonged to Pan Jun, who had entered the room looking for a favor.
He was Jiang Wan's cousin, and in his eyes, Jiang Wan was usually the picture of scholarly elegance. This disheveled, haggard version was a new to him.
Jiang Wan quickly smoothed his robes and straightened his face. "Chengming, what brings you here?"
Pan Jun smiled, though the gesture never quite reached his eyes. "It has been a long while since you last returned to Wuling, brother."
A flicker of irritation passed through Jiang Wan.
Pan Jun was a man of undeniable talent, a student of Song Zhong who had earned the open praise of Wang Can himself.
He had built a name for himself before the age of thirty. In the past, Jiang Wan had felt a quiet sense of inferior next to this brilliant cousin.
But now, after watching the broad sweep of history unfold through the Light Screen, Jiang Wan saw Pan Jun through a different lens, he saw a man who might one day become a liability.
He had pushed Liu Bei to give Pan Jun a comfortable, idle post, essentially paying him to stay out of the way.
"Public duties are overwhelming at the moment," Jiang Wan said, his tone carrying a note of finality. "When the work eases, I will return to Xiangxiang."
Pan Jun's smile tightened for a fraction of a breath. "In that case, I will not disturb your work."
As Pan Jun walked away, his back stiff and his pride unbroken, Jiang Wan's irritation deepened. With the core leadership away in Chengdu, was this gifted cousin beginning to grow restless?
"What are you brooding over, cousin?"
Jiang Wan startled, then broke into a laugh when he recognized the newcomer. "Liu Min!"
He stepped forward and seized the man's hands. "You have not visited in ages."
Liu Min scratched his head, looking a bit sheepish. "I was away with General Lei, clearing out a nest of river pirates. But I'm here because I have a request."
Jiang Wan's heart sank, but he kept a pleasant expression. "Speak freely."
Liu Min looked Jiang Wan in the eye, his expression suddenly very serious. "Lord Liu Bei is in need of men. I am a son of the Liu clan. How can I stay safely in the rear while the world burns? Brother, I want to join the army."
Jiang Wan went silent. He studied his cousin, looking for any sign of hesitation.
"Have you truly thought this through?"
Liu Min grinned. "What is there for a son of Liu to fear? A man should bleed for his country."
Jiang Wan felt a surge of pride. He clapped Liu Min on the shoulder. "In that case, General Huang Zhong is in need of a Master of Records. Are you willing to go?"
Liu Min let out a loud, boisterous laugh. "Dangyang faces the bandit Cao directly. That is exactly where I want to be!"
Siap, Bang. "Double exploitation" dan "logistics" tetap dipertahankan karena memang bagian dari nada modern yang diizinkan.
Ini revisi segmen Jian Yong yang sudah saya kerjakan sebelumnya dengan nada modern tetap hidup:
---
Miles away, Jian Yong adjusted his bamboo hat against the biting wind and dust. This was not his first journey into Hanzhong, and he moved with the practiced ease of a man who had long ago learned to read the roads.
Upon entering the territory, his first stop was one of the Charity Houses. He needed to register with the local cult before anything else.
The Five Pecks of Rice sect operated a network of charity houses and roadside pavilions, an odd and uneasy blend of religious shrine and government inn.
Jian Yong handed over his mandatory fee of five pecks of rice and received a wooden token in return. The token granted him safe passage through Hanzhong.
He took a last glance at the meat and grain stored inside the pavilion. He knew the truth of the place. Those supplies had nothing to do with the starving peasants who could barely scrape together the entry fee.
The only people who actually ate according to their needs were Zhang Lu's high officials and the four great local families: the Chen clan, the Fan clan, the Yan clan, and the Zhao clan.
For a traveling merchant like himself, the charity was a thin joke. Jian Yong led his pack horse away, his face set like stone.
Having seen the wider world through the lens of the Light Screen, Jian Yong now studied Hanzhong with a colder and more certain eye, it was exactly what the future would call double exploitation.
The five pecks of rice were simply a tax dressed in a religious robe, and once the charity had taken its cut, the local landlords squeezed out the rest. It was not so different from the east after all.
As he made his way toward the Baoxie Road, the path thickened with travelers. Cao Cao, Ma Chao, and Han Sui were locked in a stalemate to the north, which meant the only people still moving were merchants and desperate refugees.
Jian Yong fell in with a group of families making their way toward Hanzhong. It was from them that he began to piece together the shape of things in the Central Plains.
The tension had been tightening since March. By July, word that Cao Cao himself had arrived set off a flood of people rushing for the roads. They knew his reputation for scorched-earth warfare, and they wanted no part of it.
"They are stuck at Tong Pass now," an old man told Jian Yong. "A few clashes back and forth, but no one has the upper hand."
"Then the fighting will drag into next year," the old man added, as though the matter were already settled.
Jian Yong's curiosity stirred. "How can you speak with such certainty? I would not dare lay a wager on that."
"It is nearly the end of October," the old man said, looking at Jian Yong with the patient pity one reserves for the ignorant. "The cold is coming. If they are still stuck now, they will have to pull back soon. It is only basic logistics."
"Then why not wait out the winter at home?" Jian Yong asked.
The old man shook his head. His face was a weathered map of wrinkles and old scars. "Does not matter who wins or loses this year. Both sides are far too angry to let it go. They will be back at each other's throats by the time spring breaks."
He let out a sigh, heavy and worn.
"We folk of the Central Plains have been hardened by too many wars. We have watched this same tale unspool a thousand times. Since the fighting is coming back no matter what, we might as well reach Hanzhong early and claim a decent patch of land. While they are busy killing each other back there, we will be here planting our crops."
The old man turned his gaze back toward the horizon, toward the home he had left behind.
"Let them kill who they want. Once enough bodies pile up, things will settle down for a few years. That is when we will head back home. That is simply how it goes."