Chapter Fifty-Seven: The Dragon-Slaying Art Unleashed

"Journey to the West" consists of one hundred chapters, totaling around 860,000 characters. I plan to break it into four hundred and thirty installments, each about two thousand characters, to serialize it...

"Journey to the West actually has one hundred chapters and 860,000 characters? But if you update five chapters a day, wouldn't it still take over two hundred days to publish the whole book? The risk of stockpiling would be too high—no matter how much readers like the story, if the time span is too long, a large number will be lost."

Liu Lei was no novice; on the contrary, he was quite familiar with the world of book publishing.

"No, you're mistaken! Not five chapters a day, just one, or at most two."

"One chapter? Wouldn't that take more than a year to complete the whole thing?"

Sun Fugui was equally puzzled, but he knew that if his third brother had arranged it so, there must be a reason.

"That's right, a whole year. If I weren't worried about disrupting the story's flow, a thousand characters per installment would be even more ideal..."

After all, papermaking techniques in this era lagged behind, and costs could become rather high.

"Of course, if we print it as a traditional book, we'll definitely face the problem of unsold stock, and the financial strain from cumulative losses is immense. So instead, we must print it on another medium—what I call a newspaper..."

"Newspaper? Is that like the government bulletins?"

Sun Fugui was quick to catch on, and Feng Jingzhe nodded in approval.

"In form, they're similar, but their nature is entirely different. We print the story of 'Journey to the West' onto this newspaper each day and sell it at a very low price. Even after collecting every issue, the total cost will only be slightly higher—perhaps by a tenth or two—than a regular book."

"This really would maximize the story's spread. Even peddlers and laborers could buy it, as long as they can read. But then, where's our profit? If we raise the price, it defeats the purpose of wide circulation."

Liu Lei couldn't fathom the plan's purpose. They were businessmen, after all—surely not in it just for applause.

"That's why I said: don't expect to make a profit in the short term. But if we just add something to this newspaper, the profits will gradually emerge, and one day it could become an unshakable giant..."

"What else could be added? Don't keep us guessing, Brother—tell us quickly!"

"Yes, Brother Feng, what do you mean?"

Feng Jingzhe took a sip of tea and slowly uttered three words: "Authority... and... credibility..."

"Authority? Are you saying we need to involve the government?"

Liu Lei frowned. If that was the case, the venture was far less attractive. Everyone knew that dealing with officials was a bottomless pit.

"You're thinking too narrowly. To give a newspaper authority, there are easier ways than involving the government. For instance, we could publish the government bulletins, or print the daily average prices of rice and vegetables at the East Market, or report who started a fight at which tavern yesterday, or which official took a new concubine. As long as the information is true, over time the newspaper will gain credibility—because everything it says is real..."

At this, the air seemed to freeze. Sun Fugui and Liu Lei even forgot to breathe, their faces turning crimson.

Now, they finally understood why Feng Jingzhe said this venture was fraught with immense risk—so great it defied imagination. If it failed, they would lose money; but if it succeeded, they might lose their very lives!

"Authority? This is more than authority! If this newspaper achieves what you envision, it'll be even more terrifying than an imperial edict! An edict only compels passive obedience, but if this slip of paper gains true authority in people's hearts, it will inspire active belief."

Sweat dripped from Sun Fugui's brow, falling in beads onto the table as his heart pounded furiously.

"Brother, what you've handed us isn't a golden scale for measuring fortune—it's a gleaming dragon-slaying saber!"

It was hard to imagine: if one day he printed "Chang'an is running out of grain," chaos could erupt across the land by the next morning.

Liu Lei had clearly realized this too, but unlike Sun Fugui, he seemed entirely unafraid. Feng Jingzhe recognized the telltale tremble in his hands as a surge of adrenaline.

"Brother Feng—no, Brother, my elder brother! You're a god descended to earth! From now on, I will follow wherever you lead! If you tell me to go east, I will never go west; if you tell me to chase dogs, I won't bother catching chickens..."

This was no melodramatic outpouring, no scene of a protagonist summoning a crowd of followers with a single shout. Rather, it was the dawning realization that, in an age of centralized imperial power, such a scheme might quietly nurture a king without a crown.

Even the likes of Zhang Liang or Zhuge Liang of old might not have devised such a brilliant stratagem. Liu Lei's bow was not just to Feng Jingzhe's charisma, but to his wisdom and vision—so far ahead of his time.

"Get up! Are you insane? Kneeling on the ground like that for no reason?"

With a thud...

On the other side, Sun Fugui had also fallen to his knees, evidently feeling much the same. It wasn't that they wished to crown a new king or push Feng Jingzhe to rebellion and the throne. It was simply an uncontrollable gesture of pure admiration.

"Fatty, have you lost your mind too? Get up! Aren't you worried about being laughed at, here in the middle of the street..."

Feng Jingzhe hauled them both to their feet, now feeling a twinge of regret. His tongue had run away with him; if he wasn't careful, he'd dig his own grave.

"Brother, we'll cover all the costs of this venture, Fatty and I. You take ninety percent of the profits; the two of us will split the rest..."

To Liu Lei's wild proposal, Sun Fugui nodded vigorously. It wasn't magnanimity—they both knew only Feng Jingzhe could lead such an enterprise. Anyone else, if the logic behind the operation were exposed, would lose their heads.

But the Feng family was different. Not only that, but the one before them was soon to marry the daughter of the General Who Guards the West. With the rank of viscount and military power in hand, if one thought further ahead—when the newspaper truly spread throughout the land—one call to arms...

Of course, neither man dared think so far. They just figured, in a crisis, the one with the highest standing would take the fall.

However, at this suggestion, Feng Jingzhe's face darkened as he slammed a few copper coins on the table.

"Li Xiaodao, come settle the bill! These two idiots can pay for themselves..."

He swept his sleeve and strode off.

"Pair of lunatics! Why would I give up a comfortable life to go courting death for treason!"

There was no way he would let himself be dragged into this. All he wanted was to write and earn a little pocket money.

Besides, if only two merchants ran the newspaper, at worst the government would nationalize it. But if Feng Jingzhe got involved, his whole clan could be wiped out.

Did these two even know how his father and two elder brothers had died? Did they really think it was just defeat on the battlefield?

Others might not see it, but with Feng Jingzhe's far-sighted perspective, it was clearly a bloody drama of power and intrigue...