I, Am a Living Yama, Empress Advises Me to Stay Calm-Chapter 229

Chapter 229

The old man paused, bending down to inspect the spot where the rice seedlings had collapsed. He studied the area carefully, a thoughtful look on his face.

“Why is there a hole here? Could it be a snake?”

Beside him, the younger man scratched his head.

“We’ve seen plenty of snakes, but I’ve never seen one dig such a big hole and knock down the seedlings.”

Smacking his lips, the old man muttered, “Let’s dig it up and see.”

He grabbed a shovel and began digging into the loose soil. As soon as the earth gave way, a horde of strange creatures burst out—hard-shelled and waving pincers. Startled, the father and son jumped back in alarm.

“What was that just now?”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t see clearly.”

“Could it be poisonous? It looked a little like a scorpion.”

They exchanged uneasy glances.

Another month passed.

By then, the drop in rice yields had become more noticeable. Farmers across the region grew anxious. The weather had been fine—clear skies and regular rainfall—so why were their fields producing less?

Two months later, within the heart of the Ming Dynasty, inside Fengtian Hall, the mood was tense.

Zhu Biao stood before his father, brow furrowed.

“Father, news has come from the lands surrounding Yingtian Prefecture. They say yields are down this year. Farmers are struggling. Seedlings are being destroyed mysteriously, and no one knows the cause.”

Zhu Yuanzhang’s sharp gaze darkened with confusion.

“What’s going on? Is someone behind this? Sabotage?”

Zhu Biao shook his head. “The farmers have been guarding their fields day and night. It’s not likely anyone tampered with them.”

He paused, then added, “Besides, the affected fields aren’t connected. They’re in different areas and grow different crops. The only thing they share in common is their proximity to the same water system—just at different points along it, upstream to downstream.”

Zhu Yuanzhang rubbed his temples, frustration tightening his brow. It made no sense. He stared down at the memorial in his hands. In all the years of Ming rule, never had they seen a yield drop so suddenly and without explanation.

After a long silence, he said, “Reduce the taxes in those areas.”

Zhu Biao nodded. His father’s voice cut through again before he could speak.

“By the way, the rains have been relentless this past month. The Yangtze’s water levels are surging. Keep a close watch on the dikes. Some of them look worn.”

“I had the Ministry of Revenue allocate funds for repairs a few years back,” he continued. “But with the rain this fierce, we must remain vigilant. Especially at the West Water Gate. If you can, go inspect it yourself.”

“I understand, Father,” Zhu Biao replied.

A few days later, under a sky blanketed by black storm clouds, the streets of Yingtian Prefecture were lashed by sheets of rain. Thunder rolled across the heavens. Bright flashes of lightning split the sky, throwing the landscape into harsh relief.

At the edge of the West Water Gate, Zhu Biao stood beneath the downpour. His raincoat clung to his shoulders as he faced the flood-swollen river. An official held an umbrella over himself and tried to dissuade him.

“Your Highness, the water level is rising fast. Please, you shouldn’t risk yourself by going any further.”

Zhu Biao shook his head. “I need to see it with my own eyes. I have an uneasy feeling. The rainfall these past few days has been too intense.”

The official forced a smile. “We can go in your place. There’s no need for you to go personally.”

But Zhu Biao offered a faint smile of his own, his features set in resolute lines. “This is about the people’s lives and livelihoods. Since I’ve come all this way, I must go.”

The official had no response to that. He simply nodded.

Half an hour later, they arrived at the West Water Gate.

Rain poured down in torrents, flooding the area and turning everything into a sea of water. Waves surged and slapped against the stone structures.

Zhu Biao stood still, the downpour cutting across his face like needles. Rain stung his skin, numbing his cheeks. He gritted his teeth and turned to the supervising official nearby.

“What’s the current water level?”

The man answered quickly, “Your Highness, the river has risen nearly a foot past the warning mark, and it’s still climbing. If this rain continues for a few more days, we might not be able to hold it back.”

Zhu Biao stepped up to higher ground and looked out over the swollen gate below, his expression darkening.

The Yangtze churned like a beast ready to break loose. The waves surged, battering against the defenses of the West Water Gate. Though the structure held firm for now, each blow from the river felt like a warning: collapse was not far off.

Rainwater soaked through his robes. The cold bit deep, and his face felt numb, nearly frozen. He wiped at the water running down his cheeks and narrowed his eyes.

“No matter what, we must hold this line. If the West Water Gate fails, the water will pour into the city. There’ll be immense loss of life.”

He turned sharply. “Send word to mobilize the soldiers. Get those flood-control sandbags in place.”

“Be ready for anything, in case—”

A thunderous roar tore through the air, cutting him off.

Before their eyes, a section of the dike at the West Water Gate slowly gave way. It crumbled and sank, separating from the rest of the structure. All around, the officials stood frozen in disbelief as the river began its inevitable surge inward.