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Qianlong, wrapped in a yellow-brown dragon robe, sat on his throne, his eyes reflecting a glint of greed.

“Prince Zheng and Prince Su have joined in as well?”

Qianlong’s voice held a trace of disdain.

“Hmph, Prince Rui keeps running to Prince Kang every day. I bet he’s getting anxious.” Fu Cha Fu Heng nodded calmly.

“Prince Rui has indeed been quite active these past few days.”

Qianlong’s lips curled into a sneer.

“He’s both greedy and cowardly. He won’t act unless he drags others along. What a fool.”

Fu Cha Fu Heng remained silent. What the emperor could say so freely, he could not afford to echo.

Qianlong barely noticed his advisor’s quiet demeanor, his attention fixated elsewhere.

“It’s been more than two months now. What do you think Yang Yi is up to?” Qianlong’s tone turned contemplative.

“He’s been stalling with the Ministry of Rites about the marriage alliance, dodging any clear answers. It’s as if he has no interest in the alliance at all. Instead, he’s fully engrossed in this bond business of his. Do you find it strange?”

Fu Cha Fu Heng studied Qianlong, sensing a hint of unease beneath the emperor’s facade. As one of Qianlong’s closest advisors, he knew this man’s capricious nature well; stubborn and proud, yet occasionally prone to moments of introspection when his own desires were at stake.

After a pause, Fu Cha Fu Heng replied cautiously, “I’m not certain, Your Majesty, but a lot of people have indeed profited from his business during this time.”

Qianlong’s eyebrows lifted slightly, and a greedy glint sparked in his eyes.

“What if I were to invest a few hundred thousand taels myself?”

Fu Cha Fu Heng almost smiled—he had anticipated this. Still, he hesitated.

“Your Majesty, I am not wise enough to advise on such matters…”

Qianlong waved his hand dismissively, a touch of impatience flickering in his expression.

“Fu Heng, you’re far too timid. Even if I invest a few hundred thousand taels, what of it? That fellow is on my turf. If things go awry, where could he possibly run?”

Fu Cha Fu Heng found himself reluctantly nodding. The emperor’s logic was sound, albeit dangerously overconfident.

“Your Majesty’s insight is unmatched.”

Pleased that his minister offered no objections, Qianlong’s smile widened as he stroked his chin thoughtfully.

“I’ll start with fifty thousand taels from my private treasury…”

In truth, Qianlong’s ambition ran far deeper. If it weren’t for the potential backlash and damage to his reputation, he would have considered detaining Yang Yi outright and seizing every last tael.

But the risk of infuriating the citizen investors was too great. For now, investing himself was the safest course. A quick profit of seventy-five thousand taels in a month—how could he lose?

Three days later, in a private residence far from the palace, Yang Yi listened intently as his guard reported.

“Lord Yang, in the past few days, more people than ever have come to buy bonds. This month alone, the total value of gold, silver, and jewels received exceeds three million taels.”

The guard paused, flipping through the account book.

“Today, someone even invested fifty thousand taels, using famous paintings and antiques as collateral.”

Yang Yi raised an eyebrow, a faint smile playing on his lips. In the dim candlelight, his handsome features appeared even sharper, his expression unreadable but undeniably pleased.

He smiled, a hint of satisfaction on his face.

“These famous paintings and calligraphy, only the nobles would bring them out.”

The bonds he issued could be bought with gold, silver, jewels, or valuable antiques and artworks as collateral, but he did not accept property deeds or land titles. Those had to be mortgaged elsewhere for money to buy bonds. After all, property deeds and land titles were useless when it came to escaping.

Yang Yi stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Have you found out everything I asked you to investigate?”

A guard beside him replied, “To inform you, sir, we have found out. In ten days, the Qing Crown Prince’s birthday banquet will be held, and most of the officials will attend.”

Yang Yi nodded slightly, a smile appearing on his face. “Then we will leave in ten days.”

These people were greedy for his interest, but little did they know that he was after their principal!

Ten days later, Qianlong’s eldest son, Aisin Gioro Yonghuang, held a grand birthday banquet and invited all the civil and military officials. As Qianlong’s eldest son, he was not favored, so his position was not secure. This banquet was a way for him to win over the court officials, to see who would support him.

As the envoy of the Zhou Dynasty and the recently prominent Yang Yi, he was naturally among those invited.

At the Zhou Dynasty envoy’s residence, Yang Yi addressed his men with calm determination.

“In an hour, when it gets dark, we will leave.”

Everyone saluted. “Yes, sir.”

Yang Yi nodded slightly, his gaze falling on a person not far away. The man, dressed similarly to him, bore a striking resemblance to him, almost ninety percent alike. Yang Yi nodded with satisfaction.

Over the past few days, he had used makeup techniques acquired through the system to personally disguise this death warrior.

The death warrior, with a similar height and build, now bore an uncanny likeness to Yang Yi. He would be useful tonight. Unless someone was very familiar with Yang Yi, they wouldn’t notice anything wrong.

…

One hour later, night fell.

At the Crown Prince’s residence, under the watchful eyes of many, the Zhou envoy “Yang Yi” arrived with gifts.

Meanwhile, at the capital’s dock, ten large cargo ships slowly sailed by.

“Stop… What are you doing?” A Qing soldier stopped the cargo ships for a routine inspection.

Inside the ship, Li Cunxiao held up the token Qianlong had given to Yang Yi, his expression indifferent. The Qing soldier’s face changed, and he quickly stepped back.

“Forgive me, sir!” the soldier said hastily, waving at his men. “Let them pass!”

Moments later, the ten cargo ships, bearing the Qing royal insignia, quietly left the capital.

On the last freighter, Yang Yi, dressed in a black robe, looked at the receding capital with a faint smile on his lips.

“The high-flying bird perishes from greed, the fish in the deep pool dies from the fragrant bait,” he murmured.

“Greed and the love of profit are the roots of national destruction and personal ruin.”