"How much profit can one make from farming?"
"If the fields are tended with care, the weather is favorable, the seasons are not missed, and the market is right, you can earn tenfold within a few years."
"And from running a shop, trading goods?"
"With sharp judgment, seizing opportunities, buying low and selling high, and monopolizing rare goods, you could earn a hundredfold within a few years."
"Then what about controlling the military and political power of an entire nation? How much profit could that yield?"
"This…"
Hirata Kōzaburō was momentarily at a loss for words. He wasn't entirely surprised by Jinghang's line of thinking; after all, he too had entertained thoughts of replacing the Mid-Mountain Green Palace's master. But that was just idle fantasy. The difficulty was simply too great. Domestic issues, international concerns, the ninja class, the samurai class, the civilian population—any one of these could spiral into disaster. Why bother with such a convoluted plan when he could simply enjoy his wealth in peace?
"Dear brother, while you have soldiers and I have money, rebellion is the greatest trouble of all. It involves every facet of domestic and international politics, and pulling on one thread could unravel the entire fabric.
"Moreover, disrupting the current political balance of the ninja world would undoubtedly alarm the Daimyōs of the other four great nations, triggering a powerful backlash. We would become the target of all, besieged from every side. No matter how skilled you are, even a tiger cannot withstand a pack of wolves. My advice: let this idea go and never bring it up again."
Jinghang smirked playfully, picked up a slice of lamb, swirled it in the hotpot, and placed it into Kōzaburō's dipping sauce.
"When did I ever say I wanted to rebel? That old cushion in the main hall of the Mid-Mountain Green Palace looks uncomfortable to sit on. I have no interest in it."
He picked up another slice of lamb and began cooking it.
"Oh, then I'm relieved. Hmm, this is quite good!"
Kōzaburō chewed on the lamb, his eyes lighting up as he followed Jinghang's lead, eagerly dipping more slices into the bubbling broth.
"What I'm interested in is the power that cushion represents."
"Ah—hot! Hot! Sss! Isn't that… the same thing?" Kōzaburō exclaimed, his mouth burning from the scalding food.
"No, no, not entirely the same," Jinghang said, shaking his head emphatically.
"How so?" Kōzaburō asked, puzzled.
"Tell me, where does the Daimyō's power originate? What is its foundation?"
"Why, from the land, of course," Kōzaburō replied without hesitation. As the saying goes, With land comes people, with land comes grain, with land comes wealth. With people, grain, and wealth, there is the Daimyō, and thus the Daimyō's power.
"And if the Daimyō had no land?" Jinghang asked, a devilish smile creeping across his face.
"Then he'd just be a figurehead. But how could he lose his land? Are you planning to send your ninja to seize it? Wouldn't that still be rebellion?"
"Haha, but what if he carelessly gave it away himself?" Jinghang chuckled, though his tone carried a hint of seriousness.
Clatter.
Kōzaburō's chopsticks fell onto the table in shock. But as a man who had navigated the treacherous waters of commerce for nearly thirty years, he quickly pieced together the implications and exclaimed excitedly, "You mean… Yuexi Peninsula!?"
"Hahaha, sharp as ever, old brother. You catch on quickly," Jinghang said, clearly pleased.
Kōzaburō's adrenaline surged as the sheer audacity of the idea dawned on him. His mind raced, rapidly filling in the gaps of this bold plan. Jinghang, unfazed by Kōzaburō's reaction, continued:
"I've already arranged with Tsuchikage Onoki and Hokage Hiruzen Sarutobi to reconvene the Five Kage Summit at Yuexi Peninsula in a year. I'm confident the Raikage and Mizukage won't refuse either; envoys have already been dispatched.
"Now, such an important meeting—don't you think the Daimyōs of the Five Great Nations would feel out of place staying home?"
"Of course, they would."
"Shouldn't they gather at a high-end venue to discuss matters of state?"
"Absolutely."
"And after their discussions, wouldn't it make sense for them to unwind at an upscale entertainment venue?"
"No doubt about it."
"So, what's the most entertaining activity Yuexi Peninsula has to offer?"
"Gambling, of course!"
"Hahaha!"
"Hahaha!"
The two men locked eyes and burst into uproarious laughter.
At that moment, Jinghang couldn't help but recall a character from a movie he'd seen in his previous life, A City Called Macau. The character, Kevin, had risen from a penniless student with a bag of pancakes to become a billionaire real estate tycoon, exuding charm and brilliance.
But once Kevin succumbed to gambling, he lost everything—his dignity, his charisma, his very identity—becoming a pathetic, lying shell of a man.
If someone as formidable as Kevin could be undone by the beast of gambling, what chance did a mere provincial Daimyō have? Once he was ensnared, escape would be impossible.
"As the saying goes, 'Fortune favors the bold.' Old brother, do you dare join me in this gamble?" Jinghang declared, slamming his palm on the table with authority.
"Your audacity is boundless, and your mind is wicked. To even conceive of such a plan—this is treason on a grand scale!" Kōzaburō said, picking up his chopsticks.
"Thieves are punished, kings are crowned! What's the matter? Are you scared?" Jinghang taunted.
"Scared?! Don't be ridiculous. Go ask around in Dragonfly Castle—I, Hirata Kōzaburō, am no coward! Did I not marry the infamous Black Widow who buried three husbands? And look at me now—alive and well!
"With such immense wealth and unimaginable benefits at stake, why wouldn't I take the risk? Let's do it! At worst, I'll lose this hundred-something pounds of flesh."
Kōzaburō's wine-fueled bravado was palpable as he even brought up his notorious marital history.
Jinghang waved his hand dismissively and said, "Relax, old brother. We don't need your hundred-something pounds. All we need is his land, his people, and his power. The Daimyō title can remain his. We'll establish a shogunate—I'll handle military and political affairs, while you manage civil administration.
"The Daimyō? Let him stay at the Wind Temple, tending to his ancestors' memorial tablets. Every year, we'll toss him a few scraps of silver. This way, we change the substance but not the form, old wine in a new bottle. It'll satisfy both domestic and foreign audiences. The other four Daimyōs won't have grounds to object, and who knows? Their ninja villages might even follow our example."
"Brilliant, dear brother, absolutely brilliant! If you weren't a ninja or the Kazekage, I'd insist on making you my guildmaster."
There it was again. Why did this business mogul insist on using terminology that made him sound like a gang leader?
"This is a grand scheme that will take time, resources, and manpower. We must plan meticulously, accounting for every detail and potential contingency. After we finish this meal, let's find a place to draft the preliminary framework," Jinghang said, his tone now calm and analytical.
"Understood. My family's team of actuaries is highly skilled at calculating probabilities. Whether in business or politics, the principles are the same. I'll write to them immediately and have them join us. Whatever resources or funds you need, just say the word," Kōzaburō said with a sweeping gesture, exuding confidence.
And so, in the steamy private room of a hotpot restaurant, a covert plan to usurp the power of the Wind Daimyō began to take shape.
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