Chapter Thirty-Four: Li II

In the decades that followed, Chi embarked on a massive campaign of construction, conscripting nearly a third of the nation’s adult male population—whether commoners or slaves, totaling fifty or sixty thousand—to begin building towering city walls outside the capital, walls as lofty and imposing as mountains.

Undeniably, this was a vast and grandiose undertaking.

The entire project commenced in the tenth year of the Li era and, by the fortieth year, still remained unfinished. Nearly half a century of unending construction brought sweeping changes to the country, but it also greatly increased the burden on the people at the bottom of society.

While the upper echelons of society reveled day and night in pleasure and indulgence, life for the common people became a living hell.

Almost every moment, countless figures could be seen collapsing from exhaustion atop those mountainous walls—some tumbling straight down to the base, others entombed alive within the broad foundations. Over time, a massive burial ground formed at the foot of the colossal wall, and within its cracks and seams, one could still glimpse fragments of bone, mixed with black earth.

It was a scene of bitter irony.

The people of Li did not perish from famine, but from being worked to death day and night.

In the nearly fifty years since the founding of Li, there had been no wars, yet the population did not increase—instead, it plummeted by nearly a third.

Where there is tyranny, there must be rebellion.

In the forty-fourth year of Li, the first sparks of insurrection appeared and quickly grew. Within three months, the number of rebels soared to tens of thousands, gathering in the capital, Zhongli. Yet the uprising was swiftly quelled. Within two months, Chi himself, after years away from battle, personally led his troops and crushed the rebels.

That August, tens of thousands of insurgents, regardless of age or gender, were bound hand and foot and cast into the depths of the Li River.

That year, Chi was already over a hundred and twenty. The miraculous longevity granted by the goji elixir was nearing its end. He looked even more haggard, his back no longer as straight as before, but his body remained robust, still worthy of being called a warrior.

After suppressing the rebellion, Chi became even more extravagant, indulging in every excess. The royal nobles, seeing their king so wanton, gave themselves over to debauchery as well. Flatterers vied to please him, devising new forms of entertainment.

Of these, the most infamous was the Pool of Wine and Forest of Meat.

Moreover, Chi constructed an enormous pleasure garden at the Sand Dunes, where he and his courtiers could gather for orgies.

The chronicles record:

"Having abandoned all propriety, Chi steeped himself in lust, amassing beauties in his harem, collecting entertainers, dwarfs, and jesters capable of wondrous feats, gathering them nearby. He invented wild amusements, drinking day and night with Mo Xi and the palace women, never resting. He kept Mo Xi on his lap, heeding her every word. Lost in debauchery, arrogant and extravagant, he created a pool of wine in which boats could sail... Those who drowned in drunkenness amused Mo Xi, who would laugh at their demise."

Though the dynasty of Li had only lasted one reign, it had already sunk into utter decadence.

Yet, even after all this, the little ape who had lost his teeth to a seed in childhood, and who in old age was scorned as a tyrant, still made time each day to personally supervise the construction of the great wall.

At those times, Chi’s face would grow grave and stern. Sometimes he stared into the distant unknown, sometimes he gazed up at the soaring walls, sometimes he tilted his head in deep thought, brows knit tightly, lost in contemplation.

In the years that followed, more than a dozen further uprisings erupted across Li. Though none matched the scale of the first, they were more frequent and numerous.

Chi no longer fought in person; he had grown too old and frail, his best years behind him, lacking the strength to crush rebellions himself. He entrusted command to his most trusted subordinates, spending his days either overseeing the wall or lost in pleasure, never troubling himself with the fate of his people.

In the forty-sixth year of Li, the sixty-seventh year of Chi’s reign, another rebellion broke out, this time much larger than before. Like wildfire, it swept across the nation in a matter of months.

The largest rebel army numbered over two hundred thousand—greater than any before. Most were laborers and slaves who had toiled endlessly on the giant wall. Driven to desperation, these impoverished peasants, led by three warriors—Jiao, Bao, and Liang—rose up in defiance. Because they wore yellow flowers on their heads and proclaimed, "The Li Heaven is dead, the Blue Heaven shall rise," they became known as the Yellow Flower Army, or the Army of Heaven.

They burned countless noble residences, slaughtered entire clans, pillaged everywhere. In just one month, untold numbers of nobles were killed, countless mansions destroyed. Battles erupted nearly everywhere at once. The Yellow Flower Army advanced with unstoppable momentum, shaking the land.

Other uprisings followed, springing up like mushrooms after rain, spreading across the entire nation.

They gathered from all directions, converging, and in the following month marched en masse toward the capital, Zhongli.

When news reached Chi, he flew into a rage and, that May, personally led the elite troops to the battlefield.

Perhaps the fate of Li was not yet sealed.

Before Chi arrived at the front, the rebel leader Jiao was killed by a stray stone in an accident, dying on the spot. The Yellow Flower Army was instantly left leaderless.

In June, Chi finally reached the battlefield. Though advanced in years, his experience remained invaluable. Under his command, the Li forces routed the enemy, killing the remaining leaders, Liang and Bao, along with tens of thousands of rebels, and capturing countless prisoners. As for Jiao, long since dead, his corpse was exhumed and mutilated, then brought back to Zhongli to be hung upon the great wall day and night as a warning to all.

Though the Yellow Flower Rebellion was suppressed, unlike the first uprising, this one was larger, its impact deeper, and the cost of quelling it was far greater, severely undermining the prestige of Li. In many remote areas, the people even changed the name of their state to "Heaven," no longer obeying Li’s decrees.

Yet even so, Chi remained unmoved.

He was still arrogant, convinced that no matter how large the uprising, he could always crush it. To him, the rebels were nothing but petty clowns.

He sent troops to stamp out rebellion with utter ruthlessness, sparing no cost.

The entire country was drenched in blood and slaughter.

One day, in the imperial palace of Zhongli—

A vast hall, crowded with Chi’s offspring, numbering in the hundreds. He had possessed countless women in his life, and, living like a stud, had sired so many children that even he did not know the exact number.

“We cannot defeat our father. Though he is old and frail, he still has the terrifying fangs of the giant beast by his side. We stand no chance—he could kill us before we even approach him.”

After a long silence, Chi’s eldest son, Shuo, spoke at last, glancing around with a hint of fear in his expression.