Great Ming: I Teach the Empress the Military Fist, and Old Zhu Goes Ballistic

After transmigrating to the ninth year of the Hongwu reign, Lin Bei slips and slides into Kunning Palace, smashing his phone to bits. Zhu Biao nearly captures him on the spot. Empress Ma asks where he came from, and he honestly replies, "Six hundred and fifty years in the future." When she asks how long the Ming dynasty will last, he blurts out, "Two hundred and seventy-six years. It falls under Chongzhen." Zhu Biao's legs nearly give out. Gripping the armrest, Empress Ma asks through clenched teeth, "How could that happen?" Lin Bei counts it out on his fingers: each prince costs 200,000 taels a year, so twenty brothers cost four million. Then come the commandery princes, the generals who guard the state, and the generals who assist the state, each level adding to the burden. Half the treasury's silver goes to supporting Zhu family descendants, who all end up useless, knowing nothing but how to enjoy themselves.

Zhu Biao nearly faints. After a long silence, Empress Ma slaps the table and says they must revise the ancestral precepts. Lin Bei shakes his head. Cutting stipends only treats the symptoms. When people have nothing to do, no amount of money can fill the crookedness in their hearts. He pulls out an illustrated guide to military calisthenics. "How about having the Crown Prince practice this first?"

Empress Ma takes the book and flips through a couple of pages, frowning as she asks what the pictures are. Lin Bei grins. "Something that'll send your Old Zhu's blood pressure soaring to two hundred."

This novel and its characters are entirely fictional. Any resemblance is purely coincidental. Do not imitate.