Mythical Three Kingdoms

”Do you know how much money the Government of Mount Tai has?” Chen Xi didn’t answer but instead asked this question, which was the most critical one.

”Based on the current rate of construction, there hasn’t been any shortage of funds. Our merchant association estimates that Zichuan has about ten billion in reserves, an equivalent amount in grain, and even more human resources,” Mi Zhu said helplessly. The merchant association often kept an eye on Chen Xi, estimating whether he might start another novelty project or construction work—that’s where the profits are.

”Hmm, that estimate seems about right. Funds available for allocation exceed ten billion, and the rest is roughly as you said,” Chen Xi said, tugging at the corner of his mouth.

”As expected from Zichuan. This is the first time I realize we’re actually so wealthy,” Xun Yue, who typically had no concept of money, remarked. ”With so much money, why don’t we invest it all at once instead of in batches? Wouldn’t that be more efficient?”

”Indeed, we actually have this much money,” Li Youu agreed and praised. He wasn’t like some noted scholars who felt ashamed to talk about money. With such wealth, it was enough to flourish an entire state. Li Youu truly wondered how Chen Xi managed to accumulate all this.

”You say that as if we have a project that can absorb ten billion coins in one go. Are we supposed to rebuild the Great Wall?” Chen Xi rolled his eyes and retorted sarcastically. ”Knowing how to spend money is also a skill. Using money wisely is more valuable than earning it. It’s an important talent. If you don’t believe me, give me ten billion coins, and I challenge you to spend it in a way that brings immediate return.”

”That’s true—spending money is indeed a skill,” Mi Zhu agreed, resonating deeply with the sentiment. ”But our merchant association folks feel that Zichuan spends money sporadically. Of course, sometimes Zichuan starts something and then leaves it to others to take over.”

Chen Xi opened his mouth as if to speak but looked somewhat troubled. ”Listen carefully to what I’m about to say now, but don’t repeat it outside.”

”Is there some hidden secret in this?” Li Youu immediately asked.

Having dealt with the comprehensive accounts of Mount Tai, Li Youu knew there were large inflows and equally substantial expenditures, leaving no surplus. Yet, there was an undeniable fact: Chen Xi had always been able to finance ongoing construction projects.

Li Youu had never seen Chen Xi entirely out of money for development. At most, he’d claim they had no funds to fend off inconvenient questions, but when it came to his own projects, funds would reappear. According to Li Youu’s judgment, this was more a matter of Chen Xi’s disinterest rather than a true financial shortfall.

Chen Xi cast a sidelong glance at Li Youu, a silent rebuke for his verbosity.

”Don’t share this with anyone—truly, Mount Tai frequently has literally not even one cent. At its worst, I’ve been spending money earmarked for the following year,” Chen Xi shrugged helplessly.

The audience froze, stunned by this revelation. Mi Zhu alone looked contemplative before his expression turned to shock as he stared at Chen Xi.

”That’s how it is,” Chen Xi shrugged again, signaling to Mi Zhu not to spill the beans.

”However, what I’m good at is covering the gap swiftly after spending. There’s always a time lag and circulation factor involved, which allows me to mobilize up to ten billion coins at once,” Chen Xi said with a gentle smile towards Mi Zhu. ”Zizhong, are you starting to understand now?”

Mi Zhu was now sweating profusely, wiping his brow repeatedly. He would never have imagined things working this way, but he found Chen Xi’s explanation logical. Without Chen Xi saying it outright, likely no one would have noticed.

”I’ll strengthen controls on this to ensure no local governments can exploit loopholes,” Mi Zhu said while wiping his sweat.

Mi Zhu clearly felt the staggering gap between himself and Chen Xi—the methods Chen Xi employed were on an entirely different level. No wonder Chen Xi could transform an impoverished Mount Tai into such prosperity.

”If someone tries to manipulate economic strategies that you can’t comprehend, come to me. I’ll personally educate them. Of course, Zizhong, when it comes to merchants, as long as they ensure mutual or even multiple benefits without infringing national interests, even if they step over certain boundaries, just turn a blind eye,” Chen Xi added, advising further. If merchants could adhere to such principles, Chen Xi would gladly lend his support.

”I’ll remember that,” Mi Zhu nodded carefully while sweating. What Chen Xi implemented was far too advanced for him to deal with, and it didn’t seem to exploit any loopholes either.

”I barely understand what you’re talking about,” Li Youu admitted. Having some experience in economics, he could grasp the gist of Chen Xi’s explanation, ”but if you keep drawing money out of the bank, and we’re unable to replenish it quickly enough, wouldn’t that lead to significant problems? It might even disrupt the system you built. This is highly risky.”

”Relax. It won’t happen. Usually, I play this game with a plan. Besides, as long as our credit system remains intact, the entire structure won’t collapse. There’s always a buffer time in such scenarios. Right now, the larger trend is in my favor; no one doubts us. Even if someone raises doubts, they don’t have the capability to challenge this,” Chen Xi shook his head confidently.

To maintain the system’s robustness, Chen Xi had indeed injected vast funds into Mount Tai, though not in cash form. Instead, large volumes of land deeds from Mount Tai of Qing Xu were stored in the Mount Tai Bank as collateral.

Of course, such practices were technically prohibited, but since both the system’s creator and overseer was Mount Tai itself, Chen Xi could run things however he pleased. The fact that he had been this self-disciplined was already commendable. On top of that, Chen Xi wasn’t exploiting anyone—he was merely leveraging fixed assets.

To some extent, this could be considered illegal. However, Mann Chong hadn’t drafted laws for this scenario, making it impossible to classify or address the behavior.

More importantly, the only person capable of identifying and declaring Chen Xi’s actions as illegal was Chen Xi himself. Without his disclosure, others couldn’t even comprehend the operation’s mechanics, let alone recognize any wrongdoing.

Even future laws covering this area could classify Chen Xi’s approach as a form of commercial activity. At the very least, Chen Xi didn’t think someone like Mann Chong, the Chief Justice who rarely engaged with commerce, could identify issues here.

”No one has the capability to disrupt it?” Li Youu felt troubled. It wasn’t that it couldn’t be disrupted, just that nobody currently had the means to do so—this hinted at latent risks.

”Fine. If anyone attempts to challenge this system, I’ll reveal my trump card. Although I’d prefer not to use it, I currently hold collateral equivalent to roughly one trillion coins as guarantees. Of course, it’s not in cash,” Chen Xi said helplessly.

”...” Li Youu vaguely sensed certain insights but refrained from further inquiry. The others seemed equally awestruck, quietly reflecting on Chen Xi’s words and the hidden issues they warranted deeper consideration. (To be continued. If you enjoy this work, feel free to visit Qidian (qidian.com) to vote with recommendations or monthly tickets. Your support is my greatest motivation. Mobile users, please visit m.qidian.com to read.)