The autumn sky was clear and vast, with wisps of clouds drifting lazily. Beneath the azure expanse, the golden tiles and vermilion walls of the palace stood solemn and imposing.

Within Qingqiong Hall, court officials stood in respectful silence, heads bowed, holding their ceremonial tablets without a word.

“Tap, tap, tap.” On the throne, King Ling Zhun of Qing drummed his fingers, his sharp gaze sweeping over those below. “All of you have heard the plea for aid from the King of Jing. What are your thoughts?”

From both sides of the hall, two figures stepped forward simultaneously, speaking in unison: “This humble servant believes—” “Your Majesty, I propose—”

They exchanged glances, their gazes locking in silent contention. After a moment, the smiling man on the right raised his hand gently, his tone warm and polite. “Prime Minister Dong, please proceed.” The shorter-browed man waved his hand dismissively. “No, no, Prime Minister Rong should speak first.”

The junior official from the Treasury Department stole a glance at the throne. King Ling Zhun’s brows were slightly raised, but he remained silent, watching the exchange with faint amusement. The royal will was inscrutable. Just days ago, the two ministers of the Boxiu Academy had jointly submitted a petition to impeach Left Chancellor Dong Jianlin. Everyone assumed Dong’s political career was over. But then, in an unexpected twist, Luo Yin, the head of the Xingyu Temple responsible for investigating the matter, declared the Left Chancellor innocent, stating that all charges were fabricated. The two officials who had filed the petition were promptly dismissed from their posts. The Right Chancellor’s faction had suffered a humiliating defeat. Though some officials in the Boxiu Academy harbored resentment, none dared to voice it openly, for it was clear that this outcome aligned with the King’s wishes. And then—

“If these two esteemed gentlemen continue their courteous exchange, our colleagues may grow impatient,” remarked a handsome man clad in a purple robe with a wry smile.

Following this, undercurrents surged within the court. Officials of the fourth rank and above coveted the vacant position of Minister in the Boxiu Academy, especially the lucrative post of Minister of Revenue. Yet, just as everyone scrambled and schemed behind the scenes, an imperial edict unexpectedly bestowed the title of Minister of Revenue upon this renowned scholar from Jiangdong—Yu Ning.

“In that case,” Rong Kexun glanced cautiously at the throne and gave a slight bow to Dong Jianlin, “allow me to offer my humble opinion first.”

“Please,” Dong Jianlin stepped back two paces.

“Your Majesty,” Rong Kexun raised his head, “this is a heaven-sent opportunity!”

“Oh?” King Ling Zhun lowered his eyes, smiling faintly. “An opportunity?”

“Yes, the internal strife in Jing is comparable to the great turmoil of You a decade ago. This is an excellent chance for our kingdom to expand its territory!” Rong’s voice carried a hint of excitement. “The Wen clan has monopolized power in Jing for over ten years, inciting both divine wrath and public resentment. The King of Jing has killed Consort Wen in a fit of rage and personally executed the Empress Dowager’s younger brother. In retaliation, the Empress Dowager has rallied her old allies to force the King to abdicate. Lacking real power, the King of Jing now seeks our assistance. If we send troops, it would be under the pretext of aiding Jing in quelling the chaos—a perfectly legitimate cause!”

“Mm.” “Yes,” murmured voices of agreement rippled through the assembly.

The figure on the throne remained impassive, neither surprised nor pleased. He glanced at another official. “What does Lord Dong think?”

“Your Majesty,” Dong Jianlin began, “I believe Lord Rong’s words hold merit.”

“How curious,” the King’s tone rose slightly, tinged with mockery. “Are you two not going to argue today?”

At this remark, Rong and Dong exchanged startled glances, their hearts uneasy as they bowed their heads in silence.

“Your Majesty,” a gaunt man stepped forward, his voice raspy, “I believe this course of action is ill-advised.”

“Ah, Lord He,” the King covered his mouth with a fist, suppressing a cough. His chest heaved slightly, his cheeks flushed red. From the assembly below, a knowing glance shot upward. The King’s brows furrowed briefly, but when he looked again, the gaze had vanished.

He Yan, the Censor of the Imperial Surveillance Office, straightened his back and scanned the room with a steady gaze. “Have all of you forgotten the lesson of You?”

Among the ranks of officials, Han Yuesha stiffened slightly, unconsciously tightening his grip on his white tablet.

“Back then, Jing and Yong conspired to lure You into a hasty military campaign. And what was the result? The battle of Qianzhou decimated You’s forces and set it directly on the path to ruin.” He Yan’s face was angular, reflecting his upright and unyielding nature. “Neither chancellor should let the allure of short-term gains blind them to the dangers ahead.”

A flicker of embarrassment crossed Rong Kexun’s face as he stole a glance at the throne. The King’s expression remained neutral, unreadable. Until the monarch spoke, it was best to observe and wait.

“Oh? Does Lord He fear history repeating itself?” Dong Jianlin raised his short brows.

“Yes!” He Yan responded clearly.

“In truth, the person most qualified to speak on this matter is not Lord He.” Dong Jianlin moved to the front of the assembly and bowed slightly toward a red-robed official. “Isn’t that right, Lord Luo?”

Tsk. Rong Kexun sneered inwardly. Ever since Luo Yin had been brought under the Seventh Prince’s wing, this old fool had not only forgotten Luo’s past act of saving his life but had repeatedly alluded to his status as a former defector to curry favor with the native hardliners in court. Truly ungrateful.

Luo Yin slowly raised his head and offered a faint, indifferent smile. “Lord Dong flatters me too much.”

“Alas, Lord Luo personally experienced that national humiliation,” Dong Jianlin smiled warmly. “As someone who has lived through it, surely you can enlighten us with your insights. Please, do not hold back.”

The warm autumn sunlight filtered into Qingqiong Hall, casting motes of dust that swirled in the light, lending the air an eerie quality.

The assembled officials stood in tense silence, their breathing barely audible.

“Lord Luo,” the deep voice of King Ling Zhun echoed through the vast hall. “You have my permission to speak freely.”

Luo Yin’s heart stirred slightly as he bowed deeply. “Thank you for your grace, Your Majesty.” When he raised his head, his eyes gleamed with wisdom. “There are three reasons why You fell into the trap. First, Jing and Yong meticulously orchestrated their scheme, employing ruthless tactics. Second, King Qin Chu of You was arrogant and suspicious of capable generals. And third—” he composed himself gravely—”the court harbored corrupt ministers, and the royal chambers concealed treacherous consorts. Such a state was doomed to collapse.”

He lifted his gaze, his eyes clear and his tone resolute. “In my view, none of these conditions apply today.”

“Oh?” King Ling Zhun sat up straight, his interest piqued.

“Today, after studying the laws of Jing, I have concluded that its internal chaos was inevitable—it was only a matter of time. Laws are the backbone of a nation. If this backbone is skewed from the start, the nation’s downfall is inevitable.” His resonant voice reverberated through the hall, striking a chord in every heart. “Though the King of Jing is by nature weak, his actions—killing his wife and executing his uncle—are irreversible. It is common for nations at war to seek aid from a third party. However, for a nation to request foreign intervention in its internal affairs is extraordinary. This act alone indicates that the King of Jing is in dire straits. Thus, if we offer military support, he may, in desperation, cede territory to secure peace.”

At these words, admiration flickered in the King’s eyes.

“If Your Majesty hesitates, this advantage may fall into Yong’s hands.” Luo Yin inclined his head slightly. “To ensure safety, the King of Jing will undoubtedly seek aid from other nations. Liang and Yi may hesitate, mindful of You’s past experience. But Yong—a land of wolves and tigers—will undoubtedly seize the opportunity.”

The assembled officials nodded in agreement, their expressions tinged with urgency. Only Yu Ning, the Minister of Revenue, appeared delighted. He gazed at Luo Yin, whose stance seemed unsteady, with a look of deep respect and camaraderie.

“As for the second point—” Luo Yan continued earnestly—”having served two dynasties and two sovereigns, I have gained some insight. I am not skilled at flattery or singing praises. However, there is one thing I must say, and it comes from the depths of my heart.” He raised his head, meeting the King’s gaze directly, and bowed deeply. “I am fortunate to serve under a wise ruler!”

King Ling Zhun’s eyes softened slightly, a faint curve appearing at the corner of his lips.

Luo Yin rose slowly, his voice gaining intensity. “As for the third point, at first glance, the three ministries appear to function harmoniously, and the court seems peaceful. But upon closer inspection, hidden concerns remain. Though Your Majesty has welcomed talented individuals, there are still factions within the court that resist progress.” The officials instinctively turned their gaze toward Dong, whose complexion grew slightly awkward. “Your Majesty,” Luo Yan fixed his piercing gaze on the throne, “my greatest wish in life is to witness the day when all lands under heaven belong to the King, and all people along the rivers and seas become the King’s subjects.”

King Ling Zhun gripped the arms of his throne tightly, overcome with emotion, and suppressed a cough.

“Your Majesty,” De Xian presented a silk handkerchief. The King waved him away impatiently, swallowing the metallic tang in his throat, his gaze fixed intently on those below.

Luo Yin surveyed the crowd. “If I may be so bold, this should be the collective aspiration of all my esteemed colleagues here.”

The officials stole glances at the King’s expression and nodded repeatedly in agreement.

“Let me ask: If our sovereign’s dominion stretches from the Eastern Sea to the Western Frontier, from the Northern Lands to the Southern Bay, how could there be any talk of foreign lands?” Luo Yin turned around, his gaze sharp. “Or of subjects serving other states? Lord Dong, what say you?”

Dong Jianlin chuckled awkwardly. “Indeed, very true.”

King Ling Zhun lowered his eyes toward the ranks of princes standing in the middle of the court—his dozen or so sons, each displaying different expressions, making for an amusing sight. The seventh prince, Ling Cheran, still wore a warm smile, though his eyes betrayed unmistakable satisfaction. The third prince, Ling Huiran, looked slightly pale, clearly displeased with Dong’s performance. Hmm? The King straightened slightly, noticing that Ling Moran, the twelfth prince, had furrowed his thick brows: wasn’t this child usually disinterested in court matters? Why was he so attentive today? Could it be that even Moran had joined the factional struggles? How intriguing. The King stroked his chin thoughtfully, only to catch Ling Yiran lazily stifling a yawn. The King observed him with amusement: Little Nine, the one person I can never fully understand.

“Your Majesty,” another official stepped forward from the assembly. “I wholeheartedly agree with Lord Luo’s words. I implore Your Majesty to send troops to aid Jing.”

“I concur.” “As do I.” Dozens of officials stepped forward, holding their tablets, and knelt as one, proclaiming in unison, “We beseech Your Majesty to dispatch the army!”

The King glanced at the ministers bowing before him and smiled faintly. Rather than imposing his will upon them, it was far better to let them weigh the pros and cons and offer their advice willingly. This way, he would earn a reputation for being receptive to counsel and secure the loyalty of his ministers. He swept his gaze over the princes, wondering who among them might grasp this lesson and truly understand the essence of imperial strategy.

“Rise, my loyal ministers,” Ling Zhun gestured with a wave of his hand. “Very well, I have decided to send troops to assist King Jing in quelling the rebellion!”

“Our sovereign is wise!” “Long live the King!” Tremulous voices of excitement echoed from below the throne.

“Han,” the King called softly.

Han Yuesha stepped out from the row of military officers, holding his tablet. “Your servant is here.”

“I command you to lead one hundred thousand elite soldiers and set out in three days.” The King rose to his feet, gazing sternly at those below. “You must ensure that you arrive before the Yong army to relieve King Jing’s plight!”

“I accept the mission!”

“As for the position of military supervisor—” Ling Zhun’s lips curled into a faint, enigmatic smile as he looked down—”I wonder which of my esteemed ministers would be willing to venture to the frontlines?”

Ah, the role of military supervisor—a coveted assignment indeed. The officials silently mused: If the campaign succeeded, the supervisor would undoubtedly share in the spoils of victory. And if it failed, they could always shift the blame onto the generals and emerge unscathed. But with those two contenders present, such a plum position would never fall to lesser ministers like themselves. At this thought, some glanced surreptitiously at the line of princes.

“Your son—” “Your son—” The third and seventh princes exchanged glances before speaking simultaneously. “I am willing to shoulder this burden for my father.”

“Oh?” Ling Zhun adjusted his yellow robe and slowly sat back down. “Huiran, being the elder, shall yield first. Let Cheran speak.”

“Yes.” Reluctantly, the third prince stepped back into line.

“One cannot claim to be a true man without seeing the battlefield and tasting blood,” Ling Cheran said with a gentle smile. “I humbly request Your Majesty grant me this opportunity to experience the frontier and cultivate my mettle.”

“Hmm,” the King nodded, recalling his own past. “The period when I grew most rapidly in life was during my years guarding the border with my elder brother.” He glanced at the slightly tense form of the third prince. “Huiran, your turn.”

“Thank you, Father.” Crown Prince Ling Huiran straightened his posture and shot a challenging look at Prince Rong, Ling Cheran. “If my younger brother wishes to experience military life, why not follow in Father’s footsteps and guard the borders? To gain insight through warfare—isn’t that rather frivolous?” He smirked and declared boldly, “Father, I have spent time in the Northwestern camps and am familiar with military affairs. I am willing to assist General Han and take on the role of military supervisor.”

“Third Highness,” Rong Kexun bowed slightly, smiling as he addressed Ling Huiran. “Never having led troops does not necessarily mean one is unfit.”

The implication was clear—having led troops did not guarantee competence either. The neutral officials who had yet to “choose sides” sucked in a collective breath. Rong’s words were razor-sharp.

Ling Huiran’s face darkened as he glared fiercely at Rong Kexun, his hawk-like eyes brimming with menace.

“Lord Rong speaks wisely,” a voice chimed in, breaking the tension but leaving the court more bewildered: What had gotten into Dong Jianlin today? Why was he siding with his sworn enemy?

Dong Jianlin raised his short brows and spoke languidly, “However, we must consider the full picture.” The法令纹 near his nose deepened, subtly revealing his age. “If those without military experience are deemed fit for the role of supervisor, surely those with such experience must be even more qualified!”

The King’s eyes narrowed slightly: When had the third prince aligned himself with Dong? Hmph, the two highest-ranking ministers of the cabinet had now each chosen their masters.

“Your Majesty!” Dong Jianlin fixed his gaze earnestly on the throne. “Military affairs are no trifling matter. The role of supervisor must go to the Third Highness!”

“Your Majesty!” Rong Kexun shot a glare at his long-time rival and quickly interjected, “The Seventh Highness is known for his kindness and affability. He will surely cooperate seamlessly with General Han and achieve a decisive victory!”

“So,” Ling Zhun spoke slowly, “what is the opinion of my esteemed ministers?”

“Your Majesty! I believe the Third Highness is more than capable of serving as the military supervisor!” “I am willing to stake my life and fortune to recommend the Seventh Highness!” The court split into two factions, each side hurling arguments, oaths, and curses. Beards bristled, eyes blazed, and tablets were brandished in heated exchanges. The scene was livelier than the busiest market on New Year’s Day.

From the sidelines, Yu Ning coolly observed the warring factions. A fleeting glance caught his attention—a faint, amused smile flitted across the face of the legendary idle prince. Yu Ning focused intently and saw the subtle arch of the Ninth Prince’s brows betraying his interest. Blinking, he looked again, but the prince had already resumed his habitual air of detachment. Back when Yu Ning had lived in seclusion, the Ninth Prince had visited thrice, earnestly inviting him to serve. Now, despite Yu Ning’s rise to prominence, the prince remained impassive, merely nodding and smiling whenever they crossed paths—nothing like the fervent invitations extended by the Third and Seventh Princes. Yu Ning frowned lightly, pondering deeply but unable to fathom the prince’s thoughts. He shook his head slightly and, raising his eyes absentmindedly, caught a faint, almost imperceptible smile on the King’s lips—an expression that bore an uncanny resemblance to… No, perhaps it was the other way around; the Ninth Prince bore an uncanny resemblance to His Majesty.

A single baited hook had drawn out not only several large fish but also those who usually lurked unseen at the bottom of the pond. The King’s fingertips idly caressed the jade pendant at his waist: Now I see it—all of it. Only one remains… He fixed his gaze steadily below the throne, then turned slightly and signaled to De Xian.

“Hmm!” A sharp clearing of the throat rang out from the throne.

The officials, who moments ago had been arguing red-faced, fell silent as if their throats had been seized. They clutched their white tablets and stole glances upward. The King’s gaze was heavy, his expression dark. Trembling, the ministers scurried back to their places, heads bowed anxiously. The hall grew deathly quiet, save for the faint rustle of the wind.

It was only when sweat began to bead on the foreheads of the ministers and their breaths grew labored that the King finally spoke in a low voice: “Yiran.”

The Ninth Prince’s eyebrows twitched slightly as he stepped forward. “Your son is here.”

“I appoint you as the military supervisor for this northern expedition to aid Jing.” The moment these words left his lips, the entire court stared in disbelief: What?!

“Your Majesty!” Both Dong and Rong exclaimed in unison.

The King’s piercing gaze silenced them instantly, causing their wrists to tremble and their tablets to quiver.

“Do my two esteemed ministers have objections?” Ling Zhun’s tone rose slightly, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he fixed his gaze on the fiery gazes of the third and seventh princes. “Or do Cheran and Huiran harbor grievances against my decision?”

“We dare not.” “Your son dares not.” The four men retreated, falling silent.

“This expedition to Jing will pass through the former lands of You, where Yiran has lived for three years and is intimately familiar with the terrain and customs.” Ling Zhun’s voice was clipped, brooking no argument. “Yiran, Lord Han.”

“I am here.”

“Your son is here.”

“To aid Jing with our troops, failure is not an option.” The King’s voice grew slightly stern. “After the court session, come to the Imperial Study, and I will discuss the details further with you.”

“(Your) servant obeys your command.” Han Yuesha turned his head slightly and gave a slight nod to the Ninth Prince. Ling Yiran responded indifferently, his demeanor distant and formal.

“As for the role of envoy,” the King surveyed those below him, “which of my esteemed ministers would be willing to serve as my voice and secure a sweet reward from the King of Jing?”

The officials glanced left and right, hesitating to step forward. Negotiation was no easy task—success was expected, but failure could lead to punishment upon return, or worse, losing one’s head in a foreign land.

“I volunteer!” A clear voice broke through the stifling atmosphere, drawing smug glances from the crowd toward the speaker.

Yu Ning, with sharp brows and bright eyes, declared confidently, “I wish to serve as envoy and pave the way for General Han and the Ninth Prince.”

“Excellent!” The King nodded approvingly. “I grant Minister Yu a fine carriage, a golden tablet, and a thousand imperial guards for protection. You may proceed to Jing with peace of mind, and I await your triumphant news.”

“Thank you for your grace, Your Majesty. I obey your command.”

As the sun climbed high above the horizon, outside Qingqiong Hall, officials strolled in small groups, quietly discussing the earlier court session.

Crown Prince Ling Huiran and Prince Rong Ling Cheran exited the hall one after the other, exchanging a cold glance before simultaneously turning their backs and walking in opposite directions.

“Seventh Highness,” Rong Kexun quickened his pace to catch up with the retreating figure heading south. “Slow down, Highness! This old man cannot keep up!”

Ling Cheran halted but did not turn around, exuding an unmistakable aura of suppressed fury. Rong Kexun approached, holding his tablet low, and whispered, “Highness, you should be pleased.”

Ling Cheran furrowed his brow, looking at him with confusion. Rong Kexun smiled faintly, his eyes gleaming sharply. “Today’s court session brought two surprises.” The Right Chancellor raised two fingers. “First, that old fox Dong Jianlin finally dropped his pretense and openly sided with his master. I discreetly observed His Majesty’s expression—there was a flicker of unease. His Majesty detests secret factionalism. The relationship between you and this old man as uncle and nephew is well-known across the court. When His Majesty chose to protect the Dong faction, it was because they had not yet entangled themselves in the succession struggle, intending to use them as a counterbalance against me. But now, that old fox has allied himself with the Third Highness. Hmph, His Majesty must surely regret his earlier leniency. In this light, Dong Jianlin is digging his own grave.”

Ling Cheran nodded slightly. “And the second surprise?”

“Highness already knows that, by seniority, the position of military supervisor was virtually guaranteed to the Third Highness.” Rong Kexun tapped his white tablet lightly against his palm. “To have the prize snatched away like this—surely, at this moment, the Third Highness must be seething with rage, wishing he could vomit blood.” Ling Cheran’s lips curled into a satisfied smirk. “Ever since the Ninth Prince returned from You, both the Empress and I have kept a close watch on him, detecting no unusual movements. Moreover, the Ninth Prince’s maternal family consists merely of wealthy local gentry, with no support within the court. Among all the princes, he is arguably the least threatening. After much deliberation, I believe His Majesty assigned the role of military supervisor to the Ninth Prince, who has no vested interests, to balance the factions. In this calculation, we still come out ahead.”

“But,” Ling Cheran’s smile faltered slightly, “without being able to accompany the army, how can we win over General Han? He is known for his unbending integrity, and his sister is equally unyielding. This complicates matters.”

“Even if we fail to win him over, we must ensure that Han Yuesha does not fall under someone else’s influence!” Rong Kexun narrowed his aged eyes, his expression fierce. “Highness, do not forget—the Han family of Jiaocheng breeds warriors!”

Ling Cheran gazed up at the blue sky and sighed softly. “It is regrettable indeed.”

In the Imperial Study, the King sat upright at his desk, staring intently at the map on the wall. “Minister Yu,” he murmured, “what kind of gift do you think the King of Jing must offer to repay this kingdom for our full assistance?”

His gaze shifted momentarily to Yu Ning, the Minister of Revenue standing farthest to the left, who was also the designated envoy for this campaign.

Yu Ning bowed slightly and replied clearly, “In my opinion, the King of Jing must cede the three provinces of Pei, Qi, and Feng to demonstrate sincerity.”

“Pei, Qi, and Feng?” The King appeared slightly surprised, as did Ling Yiran and Han Yuesha beside him.

“Yes.” Yu Ning stepped toward the Shen Kun map and gave a slight bow. “Negotiation is essentially about compromise within the boundaries of each side’s limits. I surmise that the King of Jing’s limit lies approximately here.” His finger traced along the border, extending about the width of a finger into Jing territory. “If we exceed this range, the King of Jing may seek aid elsewhere.”

The King pondered thoughtfully and nodded. “Mm.”

“Among these five provinces,” Yu Ning pointed to the westernmost land, “though Tong Province holds iron mines and Gong Province is rich in gold, both border Yong. Possessing them could pose a threat. It would be wiser to leave these two provinces under Jing control as a buffer zone between our kingdom and Yong. Within three years, conflict will inevitably arise there. When these two nations clash, Your Majesty will hold the advantage—supporting either side ensures victory.”

King Ling Zhun nodded repeatedly. “You are truly farsighted, my dear minister.”

“Thank you for your praise, Your Majesty.” Yu Ning remained composed, pointing to the other three provinces. “Pei Province lies at the confluence of Le Shui and Lei River. Securing this region would revitalize the former lands of You.”

“Revitalize?” Han Yuesha murmured.

“Yes, revitalize.” Yu Ning gestured toward the southeastern provinces of Qing. “Though the four provinces of Lian, Rong, Mang, and Mu are abundant in grain, the lifeline of agriculture remains under Yong’s control. During the division of You, Yong secured the upper hand, taking the southwestern provinces along the middle reaches of Lei River, while we obtained the southeastern provinces downstream. In wartime, if the Yong King cuts off Lei River, even our granaries will become barren wastelands. By securing Pei Province upstream, not only can we relieve the siege on Lian, Rong, Mang, and Mu, but we can also chokehold Yong. For Lei River’s source is also the source of Le Shui, which is Yong’s lifeblood!”

“Brilliant, brilliant!” The King clapped his hands and laughed heartily.

“As for Qi and Feng Provinces, the reason for demanding these territories is solely due to Fan City. Located at the border of these two provinces, Fan City is the former capital cherished by the remnants of You—a symbol. Though the King of Jing claimed this land, he failed to govern it properly, causing resentment among the people of the former You.”

Upon hearing this, Han Yuesha clenched his fists tightly, unconsciously straightening his posture.

“If Your Majesty restores Fan City to its former glory, you will win the hearts of the former citizens of You. Moreover, Fan City is a sacred site for Buddhism, holding a unique place in the hearts of Buddhists. Renovating Fan City and welcoming visitors from all directions will spread Your Majesty’s wisdom far and wide. In times of chaos, winning the hearts of the people brings twice the results with half the effort.”

“Excellent!” The King stood abruptly, excitement causing him to suppress a cough. “Minister Yu, with such intelligence, why did you not emerge earlier to assist me? I have waited five long years!”

Yu Ning inclined his body slightly. “In the past, I was bound by ancestral teachings, wasting years in vain. Fortunately, a wise friend enlightened me, and I finally came to my senses.”

Suppressing his cough, the King drained his teacup in one gulp and quickly asked, “A wise friend? Surely someone of extraordinary talent. Can you introduce them to me?”

Yu Ning’s face clouded with sorrow. “That friend surpasses me in wisdom, but alas, we met only once. Since then, despite my efforts to find them, they have vanished without a trace.”

“What a pity.” The King slowly sat back down and sighed. “Minister Yu, you must arrive in Jing ahead of the army. Depart tomorrow. I will not detain you today. Upon your triumphant return, I will host a grand banquet and converse with you through the night.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. I obey your command.” Yu Ning bowed deeply to Ling Zhun, then turned to the other two. “Ninth Prince, General Han, I shall take my leave first.”

“My lord, take care.” Han Yuesha gave a respectful bow.

Prince Yiran smiled faintly. “This humble servant awaits Minister Yu’s good news on the frontlines.”

“Tap, tap, tap.” After Yu Ning departed, the King reclined on the long chair, silent save for the habitual tapping of his fingers. “Tap, tap, tap.”

Only when the tea in the cup had grown cold did Ling Zhun finally speak in a low tone. “Minister Han.”

“Your servant is here.” Han Yuesha bowed deeply.

“Honestly, what are the chances of success for this campaign?”

“Six out of ten.”

“Six?” The King stopped tapping and narrowed his eyes, his gaze darkening.

De Xian stood silently by, inwardly anxious: Alas, can’t even speak well, General Han!

Han Yuesha straightened his chest, his deep eyes filled with earnestness. “Though this campaign is at the request of the King of Jing, in the eyes of the Jing people, our army remains invaders, and resistance is inevitable. However, for the sake of Your Majesty’s reputation and the long-term plan, I cannot bring myself to harm unarmed civilians of Jing.”

The King frowned, nodding intermittently. “Mm.”

“There is one thing I did not have time to say during the court session.” Han Yuesha bowed deeply.

“Oh?” The King leaned forward with interest. “Speak, my dear minister.”

“All my colleagues assumed that Yong might race us to aid Jing. However, based on my understanding of Ming Wang of Yong, I privately believe that Yong’s forces are more likely to ally with the Jing royal family’s external relatives.”

Ling Zhun’s eyes widened slightly in shock, and he abruptly stood, pacing back and forth in the vast study. How could I have overlooked this possibility? Frustrated, he stopped after a moment and asked gravely, “Does your estimate of six out of ten account for this?”

Han Yuesha lifted his head, his gaze unwavering. “Yes.”

“Mm, good, good.” Ling Zhun slowly sank back into the chair, his piercing eyes fixed on his silent son. “Yiran, as the military supervisor, what strategies do you propose?”

Basking in the warm autumn sunlight, Ling Yiran smiled confidently, his brows radiating assurance. “Your humble servant has a plan to increase General Han’s chances by threefold.”

“Threefold?” The King’s voice brimmed with excitement. “Explain.”

“The ruler of Yong is not Ming Wang Chen Shao, but Yong Wang Chen Wei.” Ling Yiran’s eyes gleamed as he turned his gaze toward the map. “The matter of Yangcheng has already caused quite a stir. It was only due to Ming Wang’s protection of the two marquises of You that the situation gradually subsided. However, though the flames may have been extinguished, embers still smolder. Your Majesty could fan those embers by adding more fuel and a breath of air, reigniting the fire. Once internal instability arises in Yong, how can Yong Wang possibly aid Jing or support its external relatives?”

The King’s eyes sparkled with interest as he regarded Ling Yiran, studying him intently: Indeed, indeed.

“As for the people of Jing—” Ling Yiran met the King’s probing gaze without flinching—”they too can be of use to us.”

“Han Yuesha is unworthy,” the general said humbly. “I beg the Prince to enlighten me.”

“What if the forces of the external relatives were to rampage through the land, killing innocents and setting fires?” Ling Yiran smiled lightly.

“But what if the enemy refrains from such actions?” Han Yuesha’s brows twitched slightly as realization dawned. “Your Highness means to—”

“The General is truly perceptive.”

“And the remaining one point?” The King, now calm, picked up his teacup leisurely.

“The final point lies in geographical advantage.” Ling Yiran inclined his body gracefully. “During my time in You, I inadvertently came into possession of a treasure—the Six Kingdoms’ Kunyu Map .”

At these words, the King’s hand slipped, and the teacup clattered to the ground with a crash.

Han Yuesha stood frozen, staring at his master in utter disbelief. The Six Kingdoms’ Kunyu Map was painstakingly crafted by Zhang Guangli, a renowned geographer of Zhen Dynasty, over thirty-six years of traversing mountains and rivers. Its detail and artistry were unparalleled, both unprecedented and unsurpassed, and it held immense military significance. When the King of Jing stormed Fan City, he had sent men to search far and wide for this map, but to no avail. Now it seemed that this priceless artifact had long been in the hands of his own master.

The King’s jaws moved slightly as he drew in a deep breath, then another. After a moment, he gazed intensely at Ling Yiran, his voice trembling slightly. “Little Nine, I have truly underestimated you.”

Ling Yiran bowed his head respectfully, remaining silent.

“You foresaw all of this, didn’t you? And now you’ve finally made your move.” The King shook his head, chuckling ruefully. “Very good, very good.” Leaning back wearily in his chair, he said, “De Xian, bring that edict to Minister Han.”

“Yes.” De Xian retrieved a scroll of yellow silk from the bookshelf and handed it respectfully to Han Yuesha. “General.”

Han Yuesha frowned, accepting it with suspicion, and was about to unroll it when the King’s hoarse voice interrupted: “Read it later. I am tired. You may all withdraw.”

“Yes.”

As the hall emptied, King Ling Zhun slumped before his desk, revealing signs of his advancing age. Nuan’er, it seems I cannot fulfill the promise I made to you. He gazed half-joyful, half-worried at the azure sky: Yunzhi, Yunzhi, your wish was for Yiran to let go of everything, leave the lonely palace, and yield the throne to another. But fate has played an ironic twist. Yunzhi, Yunzhi, unknowingly, I too have fallen into his plans.

The King sighed deeply. “De Xian.”

“Your Majesty.” The eunuch responded softly.

“Am I growing old?” His tone was tinged with sorrow.

De Xian’s eyes widened as he looked toward the throne. Ling Zhun’s graying hair fluttered gently in the breeze, his face etched with the marks of time. The same face, the same man—why did he suddenly seem so aged today? Lowering his head, De Xian lied, “In this servant’s eyes, Your Majesty will forever remain youthful.”

“Hmph, smooth talker.” Ling Zhun rose and walked to the edge of the hall, watching the retreating figure of the young prince, vibrant and full of vigor. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “I am old, truly old.”