The morning sun rose over the Capital, but it didn't feel like the sunrise in Willow Village. Here, the light didn't touch the earth directly; it filtered through a haze of smoke from a thousand hearths and reflected off the sea of grey tiles. The air was thick, smelling of coal, roasting duck, and the unmistakable musk of a million people living in close quarters.
Li Wei was already in the stable yard. He hadn't slept well. The sounds of the city—a constant, low-frequency hum of chatter, cart wheels, and distant bells—had kept his senses on alert.
He stood before Typhoon, the massive black bull. The animal was calm now, the stiffness from the mountain descent massaged away. Li Wei held a brush in his hand, working meticulously through the bull's coat.
"Shine," Li Wei muttered. "You need to shine like a piece of obsidian."
He wasn't just brushing dirt off. He was distributing the natural oils of the skin, trying to achieve that glossy, healthy look that signaled prime condition to a buyer. He took a rag dipped in a small amount of the precious butter his sisters had made—the batch he hadn't sold—and rubbed it into the bull's shoulders. It wasn't for eating; it was for cosmetics. A thin layer of fat to make the coat gleam under the inspection lights.
"Boss," Da Niu came running out. He looked ridiculous. He had tried to wash his dusty tunic the night before, and now it was stiff and wrinkled. "The men are ready. The carts are… well, the wheels are still round."
"That's all we need," Li Wei said, inspecting the other bulls. They were grooming themselves, stripping the last of the good hay. "Remember, we don't speak unless spoken to. We are the hands. Let the cattle do the talking."
"Brother!"
A clear voice cut through the morning noise.
Li Wei turned. Walking through the inn's archway was Li Chen.
But it wasn't the weary scholar who had left months ago. This Li Chen wore a robe of deep blue silk, embroidered with subtle white cranes—a mark of the scholar-gentry. His hair was perfectly styled, held by a jade pin. He walked with a measured, confident stride, flanked by a servant carrying a bundle.
Li Wei wiped his hands on a rag and walked over. He felt a moment of dissonance. He was covered in mud and hair; his brother looked like he belonged in a painting.
"Chen," Li Wei nodded.
"Brother," Chen smiled, and the formality melted. He stepped forward and gripped Li Wei's arm tightly. "I got your letter. I came as soon as the gates opened. The city is vast, but news travels fast in the scholar circles."
"You look… expensive," Li Wei noted.
"I have to be," Chen said, gesturing to his robe. "The Capital judges by appearances. If I arrived in hemp, the guards wouldn't even let me into the bureau. I used part of the advance money for this. It's an investment."
He looked past Li Wei to the carts. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of the massive bulls. "Are these… the calves from the spring?"
"Genetics and the Finishing Formula," Li Wei said. "They grew fast."
"They look like monsters," Chen whispered. "The Steward at the Provisioning Bureau is named Eunuch Zhao. He's… difficult. He dislikes country folk. He thinks we're all trying to cheat the Palace."
"Then we must be the exception," Li Wei said. "I need you to be the mouth today, Chen. I'm just the delivery boy. You're the Scholar. You speak the language of the officials."
"I've prepared the paperwork," Chen patted his chest. "The Magistrate's seal, the General's letter of intent. We are fully legal. But…"
"But?"
"There's a tax," Chen said grimly. "A 'Gate Inspection Fee'. It's not official. It's extortion by the junior clerks. If we don't pay, they'll drag the inspection out for days. The cattle will lose weight in the holding pens."
"How much?"
"Ten taels of silver."
Li Wei's jaw tightened. Ten taels. It was a significant chunk of their profit.
"Pay it," Li Wei said. "We don't have time for pride. Get us in. Get us to the scale."
***
**The Imperial City**
Moving the convoy through the Southern Gate was like trying to push a log through a needle's eye.
The queue was miles long. Merchants, farmers, tribute bearers, and travelers crowded the approach. The noise was deafening. Hawkers sold dumplings and water to the waiting crowds. Beggars tapped on wooden bowls.
Li Wei sat on the driver's bench of the lead cart, his hat pulled low. He watched the guards at the gate. They were different from the village militia. They stood in rigid formations, their armor polished, their faces blank. They didn't shout; they gestured with halberds.
When it was their turn, a clerk in a green robe stepped forward, unrolling a scroll.
"Name and goods?"
"Scholar Li Chen of Willow Village," Chen stepped forward, bowing with perfect etiquette. He presented his identification medal. "Delivering tribute cattle for the Imperial Kitchen, authorized by General Teng and the Ministry of Rites."
The clerk saw the silk robe. He saw the jade pin. He saw the crisp, official seal.
"Scholar Li," the clerk's tone softened. He looked at the carts. "Tribute cattle? Drive them in. The Provisioning Bureau is in the East District, past the Drum Tower. Don't stray. The streets are cleaned daily; if your animals soil the road, you pay the fine."
"Understood," Chen pressed a small purse of silver into the clerk's hand—two taels, a smaller bribe to smooth the way. "For the clerk's tea."
The clerk pocketed it instantly. "Straight on. Keep left."
The convoy rolled forward.
They passed under the gate. The thickness of the wall was palpable—a tunnel of stone that felt like entering a tomb. And then, they emerged into the light.
Li Wei stopped breathing for a second.
The Imperial Capital.
It wasn't just a big town. It was a world unto itself. The streets were paved with stone slabs, wide enough for four carriages. Rows of shops lined the roads, two and three stories high, their facades painted red and gold. Banners snapped in the wind. The smells were overwhelming—incense from temples, frying oil from street stalls, perfume from brothels, and the sharp tang of metal from smithies.
And the people. They didn't walk; they flowed. Men in long robes, women with painted faces, monks with begging bowls, soldiers on patrol. It was a chaotic, vibrant, terrifying river of humanity.
"Keep the lines tight!" Li Wei shouted, snapping back to reality. "Don't let the horses spook! Eyes forward!"
The city was a sensory assault. Da Niu and the village youths were staring wide-eyed, terrified and awestruck. The bulls in the carts snorted nervously at the noise.
They navigated the maze. Chen rode a rented horse at the front, guiding them. Left at the Drum Tower. Right at the Bridge of Ten Thousand Ages.
Finally, they reached the East District. Here, the noise quieted. The buildings were larger, more austere. Warehouses and bureaus. High walls blocked the view.
They stopped before a massive set of red gates. A sign in gold characters read: *Imperial Provisioning Bureau*.
"We're here," Chen said, dismounting.
***
**The Inspection**
The courtyard inside the Bureau was vast, paved with grey stone. It was a slaughterhouse waiting to happen. Several other convoys were present—carts of pigs, pens of sheep. But the smell was clean, minimized by efficient drainage channels.
A man in a purple robe, tall and thin, with a face like a weasel, stood on a raised platform. This was Eunuch Zhao. He held a handkerchief to his nose, as if the very air of the courtyard offended him.
"Scholar Li," Eunuch Zhao drawled, his voice high-pitched. "You claim to have tribute beef?"
"I do, Steward Zhao," Chen bowed low. "Ten head of prime cattle, raised on the Cloud Hill method, commissioned by General Teng."
"General Teng has many hobbies," Zhao sneered. "He likes his meat bloody. But the Emperor… the Emperor prefers delicate flavors. Let us see these 'monsters'."
He waved his hand.
Li Wei signaled Da Niu. They lowered the ramps.
The village youths, dressed in their cleanest rough tunics, led the bulls out. They had rehearsed this. Walk them in a circle. Show the gait.
Typhoon came out first. The massive black bull stepped onto the stone pavement. The noise of the city had stressed him, but Li Wei was right there, walking beside him, humming a low, steady tune.
"Hips," Li Wei whispered.
The bull stepped high. His muscles rippled under the glossy, butter-polished coat. The sunlight caught the sheen.
The courtyard went quiet. Even the other merchants stopped to stare.
The bulls were huge. Blocky, deep-chested, with a level of fat cover that was rare in the capital, where most cattle were driven in lean and exhausted from the road.
Eunuch Zhao lowered his handkerchief. He stepped down from the platform, his slippered feet making no sound.
He walked up to Typhoon. He reached out a pale hand and pinched the fold of skin on the bull's neck—the "pinch test" for fatness.
His fingers sank in. It was soft, pliable.
"Fat," Zhao murmured. "Yellow fat. Good. Grass-fed."
He moved to the rear. He pressed his thumb into the loin.
"Firm."
He walked around the animal, scrutinizing the hump.
"What is this deformity?" Zhao pointed to Typhoon's muscular hump.
"Not a deformity, Steward," Li Wei spoke up, bowing. "It is a trait of the breed. A reservoir of strength. It keeps the meat tender even when the animal works."
Zhao turned his sharp gaze on Li Wei. "You are the rancher?"
"Yes, Steward."
"You look like a peasant."
"I am a peasant, Steward. But I know cows."
Zhao sniffed. "Weigh them."
The scale was a massive wooden balance, certified by the Ministry of Revenue.
One by one, the bulls were led onto the platform.
*"Nine hundred and fifty jin!"*
*"One thousand and ten jin!"*
*"One thousand and two hundred jin!"*
The weights were called out by the official scribe. The crowd gasped. A thousand *jin* was a massive weight for a finished steer. Twelve hundred was unheard of for a young bull.
Zhao's eyes gleamed. Weight meant meat. Meat meant value.
"The black one," Zhao pointed to Typhoon. "He looks wild. Dangerous. The Palace butchers are not executioners. If this beast kills a man, it's your head, Scholar Li."
"He is spirited, Steward," Li Wei said. "But trained."
He walked up to Typhoon. The bull snorted, blowing snot onto Li Wei's boots.
"Sit," Li Wei commanded quietly.
He didn't use a prod. He just placed a hand on the bull's nose and pushed down slightly.
Typhoon hesitated. He looked at Li Wei. He saw the Alpha.
With a grunt, the massive bull folded his legs and lay down on the stone pavement. *Thump.*
The courtyard fell silent.
"Stay," Li Wei said.
He walked away. He walked ten paces. He turned his back on the bull.
Typhoon stayed down. He didn't move. He watched Li Wei, but he didn't rise.
Li Wei turned back to the Steward. "He is disciplined, Steward Zhao. He will walk to the block himself if I ask him."
Zhao stared. He had never seen a bull that size obey a command like a dog.
"You have a way with beasts," Zhao admitted, a rare flicker of respect in his eyes. "Very well. The weight is acceptable. The fat cover is acceptable. The demeanor… is manageable."
He turned to the scribe. "Mark the receipt. Ten head. Premium Grade. Payment to be drawn from the Imperial Treasury."
He looked at Chen. "You have done well, Scholar Li. The General will be pleased. And perhaps… the Emperor will taste this 'Cloud Hill Beef' tonight."
***
**The Payoff**
Two hours later, the cattle were led away into the inner pens of the Bureau. The massive gates closed behind them. They were gone. The herd Li Wei had raised from calves, the bulls he had fed with his own formula, the animals that had crossed mountains—they were now property of the Empire.
Li Wei felt a strange emptiness in his chest. It was like saying goodbye to old friends.
But then, the scribe returned.
He carried a heavy, lacquered chest.
"Scholar Li," the scribe said. "Sign here."
Chen signed the document with a flourish.
The scribe opened the chest. Inside, neatly stacked, were rows of silver ingots—Sycee. The official currency of the Empire. And a pouch of gold leaves.
"Two hundred taels of silver," the scribe announced. "And ten taels of gold, as per the Imperial bonus for weight."
Two hundred taels. Ten taels of gold.
Li Wei stared at the chest. It was blinding. It was more money than his entire village saw in a generation.
He reached out and touched an ingot. It was cool, heavy, smooth.
"Brother," Chen whispered, his voice trembling. "We did it."
Li Wei looked at the chest. Then he looked at his brother. Then he looked at the gate where the cattle had gone.
"Yeah," Li Wei said, a slow grin spreading across his dirty, tired face. "We did it."
He picked up an ingot. He weighed it in his hand.
"Time to go home, Chen," Li Wei said. "We have a ranch to build."
**[Quest Complete: The Imperial Tribute.]**
**[Reward: 200 Taels Silver + 10 Taels Gold.]**
**[Reputation: Imperial Supplier (Level 1).]**
**[Family Status: Wealthy Gentry.]**
The convoy was empty, but the purse was full. The Iron Convoy had delivered.