The longer it dragged on, the greater the army’s losses and casualties. Xiao Rong looked at Mijing again, understanding what he meant. As a disciple of the Buddha, Mijing hoped for a quick end to the war. As a man, so did Xiao Rong.

He opened his mouth but could only say something more comforting than convincing. “I’ll think of more strategies. Everyone will. With collective wisdom, maybe we’ll come up with something.”

Mijing smiled, his gaze drifting back to the blank letter paper in front of him.

 

*

 

Three days later, the letter sent to the young Emperor arrived on the other side of the Han River. The courier station that had been hastily set up at the time—Xiao Rong no longer intended to dismantle it after the war. The Yanmen Commandery was the place where the Northern Army had risen to power, and Xiao Rong had even started to plan the scale of the imperial mausoleum. Since the future imperial tomb would be built there, it was certain there would be no shortage of manpower.

In addition, Shengle was also a good place. It was close to Shuofang and Pingcheng, backed by the Yellow River—very suitable to develop into a transit hub. The Yanmen Commandery was still too small, and its terrain too complex to support large-scale stationing of troops or farming. Once they seized Shengle, it could become the Northern Army’s new base and also facilitate future northern expansion.

That way, the courier stations would still be useful in the future—and for a very long time.

 

…

In three days, the Buddhist Disciple’s letter had already arrived in the territory of Southern Yong, but by the time it actually reached the young Emperor’s hands, another day and a half had passed.

Even though the letter was written by the Buddhist Son, Sun Renluan still had to inspect it first—especially at such a critical juncture. Sun Renluan had even considered not giving the letter to the Emperor at all.

However, he was a product of the aristocratic clans and carried a natural pride and integrity. He would imprison the young Emperor, influence him—but he wouldn’t lie to him, nor would he mistreat his food, clothing, or daily needs.

Hmm. In Sun Renluan’s view, corresponding with a monk was just a personal hobby.

…

 

With a wave of his hand, he ordered the eunuch to take the letter away, then rose and went to the front hall. Ever since news of the Northern King’s serious injury had come through, the already noisy court had become even more chaotic.

 

…

 

Even before Qu Yunmie had been injured, Southern Yong had already considered taking the opportunity to seize back all the territory north of the Han River while he was away. The problem was, at that time, Qu Yunmie’s capital was still far away in the Yanmen Commandery. The Southern Yong court’s idea was to first reclaim Jizhou, Yuzhou, Liangzhou, Ningzhou, and half of Yangzhou and Yanzhou. These places were prosperous and closer to them. They could occupy the southern bank of the Yellow River and use the river as a natural barrier instead of the Huai.

As for the northern bank of the Yellow River, they would take their time.

No one could’ve expected that Qu Yunmie, without any warning or sign, suddenly moved his capital to Chenliu. That meant that any action they took would inevitably pit them against the 100,000 troops of the Northern Army guarding the capital. Whether their 150,000 men could defeat those 100,000 wasn’t even the real issue—the bigger question was whether Qu Yunmie, upon learning that his homeland was under attack, would abandon the Xianbei and immediately return to defend it.

Humans… those who dared, survived, while cowards starved. There was no shortage of either fools or madmen in the world. Even when Qu Yunmie had just set out on his campaign, there were already officials in court who suggested they try seizing Chenliu, leaving the King of the North and his army without a home. Everyone knew Qu Yunmie was a man of passion who acted without regard when angered. If they seized Chenliu, they could use that to their advantage—for example, capture his clan and threaten him to come alone, then ambush and kill him.

Sun Renluan: “…”

Good men were all the same, bad men each had their own brand of evil. Of course, from Southern Yong’s standpoint, one couldn’t call this person “bad”—just “insidious” and also very stupid.

Clan members were certainly important, but were they really important enough to make the King of the North surrender? Especially given Qu Yunmie’s personality—he wasn’t the kind of man to be threatened. He would only rage, lead a charge, and cut every last enemy in the city into pieces.

If his clan died during the process, he would only grow more furious and grieved—but he wouldn’t stop. He would take revenge—relentless revenge—and when it was all over, he would gather their remains and honor them with the blood of their enemies.

Sun Renluan had at least met Qu Yunmie. Even as a teenager, he had openly shown disdain for nobles and lords—that was his true nature, and a person’s nature never changed.

Sun Renluan believed that to truly threaten Qu Yunmie, clan members weren’t enough. They needed something more. He remembered that Qu Yunmie seemed to have a niece—the posthumous daughter of his elder brother, and the only surviving bloodline of the Qu family’s next generation.

Perhaps using this niece could actually threaten him—but Sun Renluan wasn’t sure. After all, he didn’t fully understand Qu Yunmie. Besides, using a girl to threaten someone…. Sun Renluan shook his head. That was too disgraceful. He could never do such a thing.

He didn’t agree with that method—but someone else did. That person was Yang Zangyi.

Failing to kill Xiao Rong had instead handed the Northern Army a huge handle against them. The error Yang Zangyi made ended up being paid for by the entire court. Now, Yang Zangyi’s reputation was far from what it once was. His disciples distanced themselves from him, his friends pretended not to know him, and court officials mocked him openly. Yang Zangyi had shown some initial anger—but then he calmly accepted everything. He smiled gently at those who mocked him, never avoiding their gaze. He even showed up more frequently than before.

Gradually, the court’s sentiment began to shift. Those who had mocked him lost steam, and his secret supporters began speaking out.

Yes, the court had to pay—but not everyone treated the treasury as their personal money. Many people didn’t even realize how much compensation had been given to the Northern Army. Even if they did, they didn’t think it was Yang Zangyi’s fault.

Yang Zangyi had tried to kill the strategist of Qu Yunmie—clearly an act of great righteousness. He was the one truly trying to save the court. Meanwhile, Sun Renluan, who suppressed Yang Zangyi and handed over compensation, was seen as degrading himself. So what if the Northern Army attacked? As Southern Yong men, they could lose their lives, but never their dignity!

…

 

Honestly, Yang Zangyi also thought those people were insane—but he still needed them. So he said nothing and let them speak on his behalf.

As Chenliu steadily improved, the other cities began to shift as well. The conflict between Yang Zangyi and Sun Renluan reached a peak. Officials in the court chose sides—but no one really understood what exactly the Chancellor and Grand Marshal were fighting over. Someone who supported Yang Zangyi today might very well flip to Sun Renluan tomorrow.

The court was already a chaotic mess—and then came news that Qu Yunmie was injured.

Injury didn’t mean death—so the court argued even more fiercely. One faction insisted this was the perfect opportunity to take Chenliu. The other urged caution and patience for more information.

It had been like this for days, and today was no exception. Sun Renluan listened to their arguments all day, and his headache only grew worse.

Yang Zangyi seemed calm on the outside, but Sun Renluan knew he was seething inside. He had suffered a huge loss at the hands of Xiao Rong—a young man—and his pride couldn’t take it. So he wanted to make a comeback. His aggressive push to attack Chenliu was fueled by that mindset.

A man who had been wise and composed all his life suddenly turned reckless—likely sealing his own disgrace. Looking at Yang Zangyi, Sun Renluan felt a pang of pity. His lifelong rival had ended up like this. Would he too, one day, become the same?

Sun Renluan felt tired, but he still checked on the young Emperor every day. So before going to rest, he went to find him.

The young Emperor saw how weary he looked and asked after his health. He asked Sun Renluan, “Uncle, what are you worried about?” Sun Renluan paused, then briefly explained the court’s debate.

Sun Renluan had never planned to usurp the throne. He knew he would eventually return imperial power to the young Emperor, so occasionally, he would reveal some truths. When he was in a good mood, he even taught him how to manage subordinates.

The young Emperor was a quick learner. Once Sun Renluan realized that, he stopped teaching. He was still too young. Sun Renluan didn’t want a child emperor fighting him for power. An immature ruler holding absolute authority was a disaster for the entire realm.

The young Emperor would never understand Sun Renluan’s thoughts. As Sun Renluan said, he was still a child and under such contradictory and self-serving protection, he never had a chance to grow.

 

…

 

After hearing Sun Renluan’s answer, the young Emperor fell silent. The last time he shared his opinion, Sun Renluan punished him by making him practice calligraphy for days. That was how his uncle operated—never directly saying “you can’t do this,” but using punishment to make him understand.

Logically, the young Emperor should’ve kept quiet for a long time, but today, he suddenly changed his mind.

The soft voice of a child rang out in the chamber—innocent and sweet. “I think the ministers made sense. This is a good opportunity, but attacking Chenliu is too risky. Why can’t everyone compromise a little? Fight, but don’t hit the places the King of the North cares about.”

Sun Renluan stared at He Fu. The boy grew increasingly nervous under his gaze—but it was just normal nervousness, not guilt.

Sun Renluan smiled slightly and said to the Emperor, “Your Majesty, I’ve noted it. Please rest early.”

He Fu nodded. Under Sun Renluan’s watch, he lay on the bed. A maid came to draw the bed curtains. Only when He Fu was completely hidden did Sun Renluan turn and leave.

That bed curtain was something He Fu had cried and begged for two years ago. At first, Sun Renluan refused, but after a treacherous maid frightened the boy, Sun Renluan relented.

He never imagined that from that night onward, his dear nephew had begun to have secret thoughts. Every night behind those curtains, he would do things Sun Renluan forbade—like think.

 

…

An hour passed. While most children were fast asleep, the young Emperor still had his eyes open. He felt nervous, but not at all regretful.

The letter Xiao Rong sent contained instructions for He Fu, stating clearly: The King of North is recovering—do not act rashly.

Every decision the court made would affect the Emperor’s reign. To survive, the young Emperor was supposed to obey and stop the court’s war-hawk faction. However, Xiao Rong had underestimated him—and forgotten just how ruthless Emperors could be.

When Qu Yunmie had rescued Xiao Rong, He Fu already found it suspicious. Now that Xiao Rong had gone to Shengle, the boy’s doubts grew.

There were explanations, of course—Xiao Rong had to act loyally in enemy territory to gain Qu Yunmie’s trust, but He Fu still couldn’t relax.

He wanted to test him.

He wanted to see how Xiao Rong would react when the King of the North’s city was taken. Would he secretly help the Emperor seize more of Qu Yunmie’s land—or would he help Qu Yunmie take it back?

If it was the latter, then Xiao Rong was just a threat that needed to be removed. If it was the former—then He Fu could trust and use him fully.

As for whether Xiao Rong would be exposed in such a big move, if he couldn’t handle even that, then he was unworthy of the more difficult missions he wrote about in his letter. In that case—his loss wouldn’t be such a pity.

 

Edited by: Antiope

 

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