Chapter 1033: The Taiping Bank

Chapter 1033: The Taiping Bank

After the founding of the Great Xuan Empire, its first priority was the minting of a new currency.

At that time, private minting ran rampant, and inferior coins flooded the markets, causing severe chaos in circulation and difficulty in conversion. Thus, a reform of the currency system stabilized livelihoods, improved tax collection, and eradicated fire loss. This fire loss referred to the melting loss that occurred when small nuggets of silver were recast

“Fire loss” referred to the melting loss that occurred when small pieces of silver were recast into sycees. Since taxes were collected in silver, the melting process resulted in inevitable deductions. Over time, this practice degenerated into corruption. Officials began overcharging a surplus for fire loss so that they could keep the difference as personal profit.

By the late Wei Dynasty, fire loss had become excessive. In many counties, a 20% to 50% surcharge was taken as fire loss. In remote areas with fewer taxes, fire loss even exceeded the base levy. Though the court had issued bans, they were ineffective. Over time, it was tacitly accepted.

By replacing silver ingots with minted silver coins, the empire could eliminate fire loss entirely.

Emperor Gaozu had accepted the Holy Xuan’s proposal to replace silver nuggets with minted coins, which were called Taiping coins. He chose not to adopt paper currency directly but allowed deposit vouchers.

The key to coinage lay in materials and anti-counterfeiting. At that time, the Taiping Bank was still a private institution, but its minting techniques were unmatched in the world. Moreover, the cash notes that were intended as deposit slips had already begun to be used in commerce. It was even recognized by the Imperial Court. Thus, the Emperor authorized the Taiping Bank to mint and distribute the new Taiping coins.

Thus, the Taiping Bank evolved from a private bank into a colossal financial institution with minting power. It became responsible for setting monetary policy, supervising domestic and overseas banks, overseeing foreign banks operating in the East, and appointing bank administrators in the branches. Its authority eventually surpassed that of both the Ministry of Revenue and the Duzhi Hall.

At present, the Taiping Bank functioned as a Central Bank, jointly administered by the Daoist Order and the Imperial Court. It had seven managers in total—three from the Daoist Order, two from the Confucian School, one from the nobility, and one from the royal family. Each served a five-year term, but most were reappointed indefinitely, barring extraordinary events.

The three Daoist managers were Zhang Wuliang, Li Changsheng, and Yao Yi.

Their last names alone revealed their backgrounds. They represented the top three families of the Daoist Order—the Zhangs, Lis, and Yaos. Zhang Wuliang and Li Changsheng were both elders of their houses, while Yao Yi was Yao Pei’s father, ranking on par with Zhang Jucheng and Li Wugou in status.

Each of the seven managers had distinct duties. The two Confucian managers served as auditors, while the three Daoist and two imperial managers held true financial power. With a three-to-two ratio, the Daoist faction held absolute dominance. During the tenure of the fifth-generation Grand Master, all three Daoist managers had submitted, so the financial command of the entire empire originated from Jade Capital.

It was during the fifth-generation Grand Master’s era that the Taiping Bank expanded its reach across the entire Eastern Continent, encompassing both Fenglin and Poluo.

The manpower required to sustain such a colossal financial institution was unimaginable. Due to its affiliation with both the Daoist Order and the Great Xuan Court, the Taiping Bank had developed into a self-contained system, functioning almost like an independent kingdom of its own.

Branches of the Taiping Bank were spread across many lands, yet its members were forbidden to marry outsiders, as if bound by the same taboo that forbade Immortals from marrying mortals.

Why? Because the bank’s inner circle enjoyed privileges unlike any other posts. In the Daoist Order, a bank manager’s child could transfer into the Daoist ranks without any examinations. Meanwhile, Qi Xuansu had clawed his way up from a common disciple, passing two rounds of grueling examinations with top marks before finally earning the title of a ninth-rank Daoist.

These transfers would even start off as eighth-rank Daoists, far more privileged than the common folk.

Even so, many within the Taiping Bank refused to transfer into the Daoist Order. After all, why would one choose to leave the place that controlled money for less money?

In terms of stipends alone, a Taiping Bank member earned twice the salary of a Daoist priest in the same rank, not to mention the additional allowances and benefits. Across the empire, the bank had built private estates and residences for its members. This was a luxury even Daoist masters could not claim.

The Daoist Order and the Imperial Court’s only true advantage was political authority. But the Taiping Bank was beyond their reach. Its three Daoist managers were not Great Sages, nor were they entirely within the Daoist hierarchy. However, their standing was equal to that of Palace Masters. In other words, even political power could not touch them.

Before one rose to the level of Deputy Mansion Master or Deputy Hall Master, what real power did one truly hold? The Taiping Bank’s ceiling might not be as high as the Daoist Order’s, but how many could reach such heights anyway? For most, life within the Taiping Bank’s system was far more comfortable.

Some even whispered that those from the Taiping Bank looked down upon ordinary Daoist priests.

The Nanyang Branch Headquarters of the Taiping Bank was located in Lion City, a thriving port city. Its location made it the heart of commerce in Nanyang.

After the welcome banquet, Qi Xuansu requested access to inspect the Nanyang Branch Treasury. However, his request was politely refused, citing reasons that they would need to seek higher approval.

This was Qi Xuansu’s first setback since arriving in Nanyang.

The Taiping Bank had always maintained that no audit could be conducted without the joint approval of at least four managers, unless it was a direct decree of the Grand Master or the Emperor.

Thus, Qi Xuansu had deliberately avoided using the word “audit” and merely asked to “take a look at the vault” to test their reaction. Clearly, he had hit a wall in this.

This was not a whim nor an unauthorized act. He had obtained explicit permission from Sage Donghua beforehand.

The reason for this was that he needed hard evidence to bring down Wang Jiaohe, and the most straightforward way was to find a flaw in the Mansion Master’s trail of money.

Local powers entrenched for decades did not survive on loyalty or honor, but on webs of profit and collusion. Where there was interest, there was always money, and where there was money, one could not avoid the Taiping Bank.

Most of Poluo Daoist Mansion’s trade flowed through the Taiping Bank’s Nanyang Branch Headquarters.

Qi Xuansu’s first thought was how arrogant the Taiping Bank was. But on second thought, this just proved how deep and intricate things were in the Poluo Daoist Mansion.

If he truly wished to bring down Wang Jiaohe, the number of people implicated might exceed both major Jiangnan cases combined. This would not end with the death of a single Sage.

That afternoon, Spirit Guard Jia Yin arrived at Lion City. He was a frequent visitor, coming several times each month. But this time, he had come specifically for Qi Xuansu.

Under Protector Lin’s arrangement, the two had a private conversation.

While Spirit Guard Ding Chou served closely under Great Sage Lan, she was mostly stationed at Thanglong Prefecture, so she did not know much about the affairs in the Jawa Kingdom.

On the other hand, Spirit Guard Jia Yin was a battle-hardened general who had been posted at the Port Pacification Commission Office, a neighbor of Lion City. He knew the region’s inner workings like the back of his hand.

After exchanging brief pleasantries, Qi Xuansu went straight to the point. “I want to know if there have been any anomalies in maritime trade.”

Spirit Guard Jia Yin removed his helmet, revealing his hair that was half-white and a professional smile that did not reach his eyes. “I’m a soldier, not a merchant. I fight for the Daoist Order, so I’m proficient in war, not trade. Second Deputy Qi, what you just asked me is akin to asking the blind for directions.”

Qi Xuansu remained composed. “Then please tell me what you do know, General.”

A Spirit Guard was neither a Daoist priest nor a Black Robes, but their role was similar to a military officer. Thus, in private, most often addressed first-rank Spirit Guards as “Generals,” a title of respectful flattery.

A first-rank Spirit Guard equaled a Second-Rank Taiyi Daoist, while Qi Xuansu was only a third-rank Youyi Daoist. Thus, Qi Xuansu could refer to him as General, whereas Great Sage Lan would probably just call him Jia Yin.

“I don’t deserve such a title.” Jia Yin dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “But I can tell you this. The seas have grown violent lately. Last year alone, 11 large merchant ships sank, nearly one per month.”

Qi Xuansu nodded slightly.

These sunken vessels were not flying ships. They were cargo ships in sea trade, so a few wrecks from storms would be expected losses. Under normal circumstances, the Jade Capital would not bother or question it. But eleven in a year was excessive and perhaps suspicious.

Qi Xuansu murmured, “So there’s something fishy here.”

Spirit Guard Jia Yin chuckled. “I only report what I’ve seen. The analysis is yours to make, Second Deputy Qi.”

Qi Xuansu then asked, “Were their accounts handled through the Taiping Bank’s Nanyang Branch Headquarters?”

Spirit Guard Jia Yin hesitated for a moment before nodding.

Qi Xuansu pressed on, “Has the Nanyang Branch Headquarters been withholding funds in any way? Just tell me what you know or suspect, General. I’ll make the judgment myself.”

Since the Taiping Bank was not part of the Daoist Mansion, Spirit Guard Jia Yin spoke with less restraint. “As far as I know, Manager Hu of the Nanyang Branch is a man who thinks of the bigger picture. He’s been forced by circumstances and connections to process accounts for all sides, but he’s not pocketing profits himself.”

Qi Xuansu asked, “Are these accounts personally managed by Manager Hu?”

Spirit Guard Jia Yin paused again before replying, “Manager Hu is a clever man. Since he doesn’t profit directly, he won’t dirty his hands either. Naturally, he’s set up a buffer to shield himself. From what I’ve heard, all the accounts are managed by his deputy.”

Qi Xuansu narrowed his eyes. “Deputy?”

“His name is Zhou Yonghe,” Spirit Guard Jia Yin replied. “Oh, and he’s from the Wanxiang Daoist Palace as well. He might even have been your classmate, Second Deputy Qi.”