The Unstoppable Tide

The command tent of the newly appointed Viceroy of the Northern Territories was in a state of controlled panic. Maps of the frontier were spread across every table, but now they were being marked with angry red circles that grew in number with every new dispatch. The circles traced the path of the Selenga River and its tributaries, a creeping stain of death spreading across the plains. A senior Qing medical officer, his face pale and glistening with sweat, stood before General Yuan Shikai, his report trembling in his hand.

"Viceroy," the officer said, his voice strained, "it is catastrophic. Far worse than we initially believed. Our field tests confirm it is a highly virulent, weaponized form of anthrax. The spores are spreading down the river systems at an alarming rate. The mortality rate in livestock is approaching one hundred percent. We have begun to see cases in humans as well—settlers who handled the animal carcasses, even a few of our own soldiers. We have no vaccine. We have no cure. All we can do is burn the bodies and the soil they fall on, but it's like trying to stop the tide with a broom."

Yuan Shikai listened to the grim report, but his expression was not one of fear or even concern. It was a look of cold, calculating, and profound ambition. He saw past the horror of the plague to the golden political opportunity it presented. This was not a disaster; it was a gift.

"A plague, you say?" he asked, his voice deceptively calm. "Originating in the remote territories still sympathetic to the rebels? Spread by the filthy, unhygienic habits of the nomads?"

The medical officer, a man of science, hesitated. "Well, Viceroy, its origin appears to be a single point source on the upper tributary. The dispersal pattern is more consistent with deliberate contamination than a natural outbreak…"

"Its origin," Yuan Shikai cut him off, his voice hardening into a tone of absolute command, "is the Mongol rebels. It is a desperate, cowardly act of biological warfare against the Empire and its loyal subjects. That is the official narrative. That is what will be in every report sent to Beijing and to the foreign legations. Is that understood, Doctor?"

The medical officer, understanding instantly, nodded numbly. "Yes, Viceroy."

Yuan turned to his staff, his mind already racing, formulating the new strategy. "This changes everything," he declared, his eyes gleaming with a predatory light. "Issue General Order 119. We are declaring a state of absolute quarantine over the entire northern frontier, effective immediately. No person, no animal, no goods shall move in or out. Authorize the army to enforce this quarantine with lethal force. This is no longer a census; it is a purification. We will use this plague as the ultimate justification to systematically depopulate the remaining Mongol territories for their own 'safety'."

He stabbed a finger at the map. "We will establish a cordon sanitaire, a dead zone. We will burn every yurt, slaughter every remaining animal whether it is sick or not, and move every man, woman, and child to secure relocation camps in the south. We will tell the world, and the Emperor, that we are saving them from the plague. In truth, we will be using the plague to solve our Mongol problem, once and for all. When this is over, the grasslands will be empty, cleansed, and ready for Han settlement. The very culture of the horse lords will be extinguished from this land."

Meanwhile, at the Baoding Military Academy:

Admiral Meng Tian stood before his class of naval cadets, but his mind was far away. The reports from the north had reached him. He looked at the plague maps sent by his own intelligence contacts, his stomach churning. He saw the path of the disease, a black finger of death tracing the waterways. He saw the reports of Yuan's brutal quarantine. He understood instantly that this was a foe his tactics, his honor, his very way of war, could not defeat. His patient, intelligent hunt for Altan was now a meaningless sideshow in the face of a biological holocaust. He had let her go, believing he was choosing a path of honor, but that choice had, through a chain of unforeseen events, led to this. The weight of that decision settled on him, heavier than any armor.

The Forbidden City, Beijing:

Qin Shi Huang stood before a massive map of his empire in his private study. The polished floor reflected the flickering candlelight, making it seem as though he were standing on a sea of fire. The frantic reports of the plague were laid out on the table before him. Li Hongzhang and his other senior ministers stood nearby, their faces etched with a fear that bordered on panic. This was a new kind of crisis, one that did not respond to armies or edicts.

"Majesty, this is a disaster beyond our control!" Li Hongzhang said, his usual composure shattered. "Viceroy Yuan's quarantine will not stop it. Our own scientists confirm it. The plague spores can travel on the wind, in the soil, in the very wool of the dead sheep. It threatens to spread south, towards the heartland. It could cripple our agriculture, our entire economy. It could starve the nation."

QSH's face was a grim, unreadable mask. He listened to the panicked reports, but his mind was cold and clear. For the first time since his rebirth, he was facing a crisis that could not be outmaneuvered with brilliant diplomacy, out-produced by his burgeoning industry, or out-fought by his invincible armies. He could not command a microbe. He could not intimidate a virus into submission.

Li Si's internal voice was stark and practical. ("In the old times, Your Majesty, there was only one solution to such a threat. We would have built a wall around the entire northern province. We would have declared it a dead land and let everyone and everything within it perish. It is the only way to be certain the plague does not spread. A limb must be sacrificed to save the body.")

"To do so would be to sacrifice the entire northern territory," QSH countered in his mind. "It would be to admit defeat to an unseen enemy. It would show a weakness that my rivals—Roosevelt in America, Salisbury in Britain, and the Tsar who is likely behind this—would immediately exploit. No. A wall is not the answer. It is a declaration of failure."

He thought of his own unique power. He could feel the stress in metal, command the fire in a forge, sense the movement of armies. But could he fight something so small, so insidious? Could his will command the cells of a living body, order them to fight off an invasion of bacteria? He did not know. He had never tried. It was a potential, terrifying limit to his power that he had never had to confront.

"This was not a random occurrence," he said aloud, his voice low and cold with a fury he had not felt since the beginning of the Japanese war. "This was an attack. The Russians. They grew desperate after our victories and unleashed a weapon they cannot control, thinking it would only harm us."

He turned away from the map, his mind shifting from reaction to action. He made a decision, not of military force or grand diplomacy, but one born of a new, desperate necessity.

"Summon every biologist, every physician, every scholar of medicine in the Empire," he commanded, his voice ringing with renewed purpose. "Bring them to Beijing. Spare no expense. They will work in the Imperial medical college around the clock. They will have unlimited resources. And," he paused, "send for Old Wu."

Li Hongzhang's eyes widened in shock. "Old Wu, Majesty? The poison master from the Empress Dowager Cixi's court? The one you sentenced to the medical college as a living specimen?"

"The very same," QSH confirmed. "He is a master of poisons, toxins, plagues, and their antidotes. His knowledge is unorthodox, heretical even, but it may be invaluable now. Bring him to me. And…" he looked towards his private chambers, "…prepare my personal laboratory. I will be joining them in their work. If our modern science cannot find a cure in time, perhaps mine can."

QSH was being forced onto a new and terrifying battlefield—a microscopic one. The episode ended with him, the master of empires and armies, confronting the potential limits of his own divine power and being forced to engage in a desperate scientific race against time to stop a plague that threatened to consume his empire from within.