Chapter 276.2: He’s Actually Interested in a Man?

Duan Shi’s expression had already grown somewhat flustered. “Mother knows a little of the former Crown Prince’s old habits… and just now, thinking of it, it seems remarkably fitting!”

For example, the chest she dug up—was it truly just a dream sent by His Highness… or was His Highness actually before her eyes?!

This speculation nearly made Duan Shi faint.

Wei Shuyi still harbored a desire to verify. “Which old habits? Mother, could you speak in detail?”

Duan Shi said resolutely, “I cannot!”

She was already in utter chaos, yet still had to cover the Prince’s secret, and on top of that, her annoying son kept asking questions. Her mind was about to burst!

Faced with her son’s incomprehension, and considering he was family, she said bluntly, “In any case, I say it fits, so just take it as that. Do not inquire further! Some things I cannot tell you plainly because they involve the private affairs of the deceased, and I once swore never to reveal them!”

She added, even more bluntly: “If you do not want your mother struck dead by lightning, tomorrow, while attending to household mourning, do not ask further!”

“…?” Wei Shuyi rarely showed an expression as if he were being punished.

Duan Shi could no longer care about his life or death and began pacing the hall, clutching her handkerchief. “How could this be… could there really be borrowing of a corpse’s soul… those notes… could it actually be true?”

Hearing the words “borrowing a corpse’s soul,” Wei Shuyi could not help but recall some things he had heard when interrogating that abducting couple in Hezhou:

—“It looked as if he had already breathed his last… who knew he suddenly came back to life!”

—“A monster! Surely a monster!”

“….”

Words that had seemed insignificant at the time now caused him to feel an entirely different mood, and a cold sweat broke out.

Wei Shuyi slowly swallowed, lifted his sleeve, and carefully wiped the cold sweat from his forehead.

After an unknown span of time, the hall door creaked open, and the mother and son, both like startled birds, turned pale and looked toward the doorway in shock.

The Marquis of Zheng entered, humming a little tune, and paused, stunned. “…What is going on here?”

Duan Shi said, “You… why did you push the door open like that!”

The Marquis of Zheng looked entirely innocent—after all, it was his courtyard!

He did not argue, but submissively asked, uneasy: “Has something serious happened?”

Why did his wife and normally calm son both look as if they had seen a ghost?

“N…nothing.” Wei Shuyi stood, forcing himself to bow to his father. “Father, Mother, please rest early. Your son takes his leave.”

“This…”

The Marquis of Zheng watched his son stagger away, heart in his throat. Even Zigui is like this, and he says “nothing”?

“Madam…” Though he himself trembled, he still reached out to steady the quivering Duan Shi and guided her to the inner chamber, whispering in a quavering voice, “Madam, tell me truthfully—is it that Zigui… has committed some crime worthy of annihilating a household?”

Though he was a gentleman who only appreciated flowers… fine, he admitted he was a useless one, but even a useless man deserves to know, right?

Duan Shi, unable to express the torrent of emotions within her, pushed him away, staggered toward the bed, buried her head in the soft pillows, and cried quietly.

The Marquis of Zheng froze in place, only two words echoing in his mind—It’s over.

…

Viewed by his father as having “committed a crime worthy of annihilating a household,” Wei Shuyi left Haofeng Courtyard, feeling a chilling sense of foreboding at his back.

“You…” he looked at Chang Ji beside him. “Walk behind me, keep watch.”

Chang Ji instinctively glanced back. His lord wanted him to watch what?

Just as he was about to ask, his lord warned cautiously, “Do not ask anything.”

“…Understood,” said Chang Ji.

Wei Shuyi walked a few steps, then suddenly stopped at a fork in the road.

After a moment, he changed direction.

“…Brother?” Kneeling devoutly before the Buddha statue, Wei Miaoqing was surprised to see him. “Brother, have you come to pray for the Buddha’s heavenly fire?”

“…No.” Wei Shuyi tried to keep a composed face. “I just suddenly felt like offering incense.”

Wei Miaoqing understood, blinking at him and quietly asked, “Brother, you’ve come to pray for Lady Chang’s safety, haven’t you?”

Hearing those three words, Wei Shuyi shivered, nearly dropping the incense in his hand.

Wei Miaoqing teased him silently, though claiming not to like Lady Chang, clearly more anxious than anyone.

All the while, Wei Miaoqing kept a look that said, “Let’s see how long you’ll keep being stubborn,” staring at his brother.

Wei Shuyi, for the first time, paid no attention to the gaze of those around him.

After offering incense and leaving the hall, Wei Shuyi’s mood calmed slightly.

Offering incense really was effective…

He comforted himself thus.

So, appearing as usual, he returned to his residence to bathe and change, handled half an hour of official business, and only then returned to his room, dressed, and lay down to rest.

He only instructed his servant: “Do not extinguish the lights; I still have use for them…”

He added: “Have men take turns guarding the outer room. Do not leave.”

The servant did not dare ask further, but felt alert. With his lord giving such instructions, could it be that he foresaw assassins during the night?

The servant did not dare be negligent and immediately arranged for the strongest guards to watch.

Wei Shuyi lay on the bed, tossing and turning until late at night. Just as he closed his eyes, he suddenly opened them and sat up.

Something’s wrong…!

If she was possessed by the former Crown Prince…

Of course, such an extraordinary occurrence was extremely unlikely. Zi Bu Yu does not speak of the supernatural; he was only saying, in case, in case it…

In case it were true, then she… the “she” inside, contained the soul of a man?!

A man!

He… could feel attraction toward a man…?

Wei Shuyi sat frozen for a long time, his expression changing as if struck by lightning.

Immediately, he felt he could not bear this utterly helpless sensation alone, so he considered involving another person—Cui Ling’an. Did he know of this?

He even thought of writing a letter to Cui Ling’an, 800 li urgent delivery!

…

The spring examination was divided into three sessions, each lasting three days, totaling nine days.

Before the spring examination ended, Cui Ling’an, far away at the Anbei Protectorate, indeed received an urgent secret letter sent from the capital.

Strictly speaking, it was a secret imperial decree.

…

On that day, Cui Jing secretly left the northern borders, leading light cavalry to the Hedong Circuit, riding south.

“By the way… how did Grand General Cui anticipate the urgent decree that would call him away from the northern borders?” After Cui Jing left, Protector Qin asked Cui Jing’s attendant in puzzlement.

Grand General Cui left so suddenly, without a single instruction.

But Cui Jing’s attendant soon arrived, and thus Protector Qin learned that the Grand General had already arranged every matter after leaving the north, instructing the attendant to convey the orders.

The attendant shook his head.

Indeed, how could the Grand General foresee the future?

From a thousand li away, could he still anticipate the imperial will? Or… had he long prepared to assist that Lady Chang?

…

However, only five days after Cui Jing’s departure, a loyal light cavalryman in his entourage was injured and forced to return. Struggling, he barely made it to the outskirts of the Anbei Protectorate and fell from his horse.

Hearing the news, Protector Qin hurried to the front courtyard and saw the injured cavalryman being supported inside.

Seeing this, Protector Qin’s face tightened, and he hurried to support the man.

“Protector Qin…” The cavalryman, gravely wounded, struggled to speak upon seeing Protector Qin. “We… encountered an ambush.”

Protector Qin’s expression changed drastically. “How could… Grand General Cui at this time…”

“Grand General… trouble…”

Having said this, the cavalryman completely fainted.

Protector Qin’s face went pale, body stiffened.

Something serious was about to happen!

 Chapter 276.1: He’s Actually Interested in a Man?

Haofeng Courtyard was the residence of the Marquis of Zheng and his wife.

After supper, Marquis Wei Qin went for a stroll in the garden. Ever since the second month began, the flowers he cherished most had begun to bloom one after another. These days, apart from eating and sleeping, he spent nearly all his time amidst the blossoms.

Thus, when Wei Shuyi entered Haofeng Courtyard, only his mother, Duan Shi, was seated in the main hall.

Upon hearing that her elder brother had returned to the residence, Wei Miaoqing came looking for him at once.

“…Well? Has there been any news from Suining? Did Xu Zhengye truly march on Luoyang?”

Duan Shi asked anxiously, “I heard from your second uncle that in court this morning, all the officials were making a fuss about Suining’s proclamation again? Hah! Those scheming fools! Ever since the decree to grant Suining the title of General was issued, they’ve done nothing but find fault! If you ask me, they’ve had it too easy staying in the capital. They ought to be sent to Luoyang—when the rebel blades fall, their sharp tongues might as well serve as shields! But tell me—are you truly letting them slander Suining and General Chang like that? Did you shut their foul mouths or not?”

“…,” Wei Shuyi hadn’t yet answered that barrage of questions when another wave arrived—

“Speaking of Young Miss Chang’s proclamation, people have been gossiping endlessly!” Wei Miaoqing fumed. “That day, Young Master Wu even stood in Dengtai Tower, saying in front of everyone that Young Miss Chang’s proclamation wasn’t orthodox at all—every line full of arrogance and empty boasts! He claimed it was written only to make herself famous, and that it was disgraceful that the literati were spreading it around as if it were sacred! Said it showed how far the literary world had fallen!”

She huffed, “He even wrote one himself—orthodox, indeed! So orthodox it stinks! Open that proclamation, and the sour stench could drift clear to the capital! If you crumpled it and tossed it into a chicken coop, the chickens would cry from the smell and never lay eggs again!”

Wei Shuyi reached for his teacup. “That Young Master Wu is, after all, the elder brother of Miss Wu. If she were to hear you say such venomous things, she might never take you out with her again.”

“This came from Miss Wu herself!”

Wei Shuyi: “…”

“After that boast at Dengtai Tower, Young Master Wu went home drunk and stormed into his sister’s study. In front of all the servants, he tore Young Miss Chang’s chronicle to shreds!” Wei Miaoqing was practically grinding her teeth as she spoke.

Wei Shuyi gave a low hiss. “That’s practically blasphemy.”

“When Miss Wu came home and saw the mess, she waited till he was dead drunk, then had all his sour poems and soppy paintings dragged out into the courtyard and burned to ashes!”

“When he woke and came running out, he cried his heart out and fainted dead away. Old Master Wu had his acupoint pressed to revive him—only to throw him into the ancestral hall to kneel!”

Watching the ashes scatter, Old Master Wu turned to praise his granddaughter, Wu Chunbai—“Well burned! I’ve wanted to do that for years.”

Setting down his teacup, Wei Shuyi sighed. “A man of true principle.”

Duan Shi frowned at her son’s calmness and slapped the table twice. “What are we talking about this nonsense for? I asked you something earlier—answer me!”

Wei Shuyi felt a headache coming on. Still, out of filial respect, he patiently went through her questions one by one—though truly, few men alive could have remembered all she’d said in one breath.

At last, he concluded, “Let us hope Bianzhou can hold a while longer. If it delays Xu Zhengye’s army, once Xuanzhe’s troops arrive, Luoyang might yet be saved.”

“If Luoyang holds, does that mean they won’t charge Young Miss Chang and General Chang with any crimes?” Wei Miaoqing asked anxiously.

“One can only say that if Luoyang remains unharmed, they won’t face severe punishment,” said Wei Shuyi. “But if it’s Xuanzhe’s army that saves the city, the credit belongs to the court. Then, even if Luoyang narrowly escapes, they might still accuse her of ‘poor military judgment leading to peril.’”

Not only would the court censure her—those who hailed her as a heaven-sent star would also turn around and condemn her, brandishing her proclamation as proof.

Wei Miaoqing panicked. “Then what must she do to clear her name?”

“There’s only one way,” Wei Shuyi said. “She must do exactly as she wrote—personally behead Xu Zhengye.”

“If Xu Zhengye dies, his army will crumble. Then she’ll not only be blameless but a hero, and the court will have nothing left to accuse her of.”

A boast fulfilled is no longer a boast—it becomes a feat.

Wei Miaoqing frowned tightly. “…Do you think she could truly kill Xu Zhengye?”

“Judging from what we know…” Wei Shuyi shook his head. “It’s impossible.”

Xu Zhengye had already crossed Xuzhou, while she was still pursuing from behind. Catching up alone would be difficult—slaying him amid thousands of soldiers, impossible.

Xu Zhengye would never give her such a chance.

Indeed, the Xu army needn’t even breach Luoyang—merely taking Bianzhou would suffice. The defenders would die holding the line, and once the casualties became severe, her guilt would be sealed.

“…How could that child be so reckless? Why must she play the hero and write such a proclamation, handing others a weapon to use against her!” Duan Shi fretted. “They say Xu Zhengye marched on Luoyang because of her words—so even if it isn’t her fault, it’s still her fault!”

Wei Shuyi pondered. Did she truly fail to foresee this outcome?

“Then what are we to do?” Wei Miaoqing was nearly in tears, blurting out, “…Heaven should strike Xu Zhengye down! Let lightning stop him, so that Young Miss Chang can catch up and cut him down with one stroke!”

Wei Shuyi rubbed his brow. “…Perhaps you should pray to the Buddha?”

Wei Miaoqing’s eyes lit up. “Yes! I’ll burn incense right now!”

Watching her rush off in all seriousness, Wei Shuyi massaged his temples.

If his sister truly became the Crown Princess one day—or worse, the Mother of the Nation—he couldn’t imagine what a sight that would be.

In palace intrigues, she’d probably choose foolishness over cunning; when faced with traps, she’d choose embarrassment over intrigue.

Even Duan Shi fell silent at that thought.

Wei Shuyi gestured for Chang Ji to close the hall doors.

Startled by her son’s sudden gravity, Duan Shi was about to speak when Wei Shuyi said quietly, “It’s not entirely impossible that Young Miss Chang could slay Xu Zhengye.”

“After all, no one believed she could personally kill Ge Zong and Li Yi either,” he continued. “Yet what others deemed impossible, she somehow achieved.”

“Has Mother ever wondered why?”

Duan Shi blinked. “Everyone says it’s because she’s a born general, gifted beyond compare?”

“But to me,” Wei Shuyi said slowly, “true genius reveals itself in childhood—not suddenly after sixteen years. I believe her so-called ‘gift’ comes from something no ordinary person could imagine.”

Duan Shi frowned. “And what could that be?”

Wei Shuyi shook his head. “Something beyond imagination. Even I cannot yet grasp it.”

“…Could it be, as she wrote in her proclamation, that she was guided by a divine immortal?”

As absurd as that sounded, Wei Shuyi’s eyes narrowed slightly. “An immortal…?”

“Mother once served as reading companion to Princess Chongyue and thus knew the late Crown Prince well… In your eyes, does Young Miss Chang resemble the Princess more, or the Crown Prince?”

The question came so abruptly that Duan Shi’s eyes trembled. “Why do you ask that all of a sudden?”

Wei Shuyi noted her reaction. “I once heard General Ah Dian say that Young Miss Chang resembles the late Crown Prince—strikingly so.”

For a moment, Duan Shi’s breath stopped. A rush of fragmented memories flooded her mind—moments she’d once dismissed as coincidence now aligning toward a single, startling possibility.

“Has Mother thought of something?”

“I…” Duan Shi faltered, unable to explain without revealing the Crown Prince’s secret. So, skipping over countless clues, she could only mutter a vague, superstitious line: “Could it be that she’s possessed by the Crown Prince’s spirit?”

No wonder she thought so—she’d always been a devout believer in the unseen!

That absurd notion made even Wei Shuyi’s breath hitch.

People often said he was nothing like his mother—but in this, they were identical.

They both feared ghosts.

And fear begins with belief.

Belief that such things might truly exist.

The ever-composed Minister Wei forced his expression into calm and asked, “Mother, on what grounds do you make such a guess?”

He had clearly seen, just moments ago, that his usually scatterbrained mother’s mind was now racing at full speed.

 Chapter 275.2: The Unacknowledged Friend

Inside the carriage, a pot of warm tea had been prepared. Wei Shuyi held the teacup in one hand and raised his sleeve with the other, taking half a cup to quench his thirst.

As he set the cup down, a faint sigh escaped his lips.

It seemed that even the Holy Emperor had begun to guard against Cui Ling’an.

He recalled the past—how, before the late Crown Prince passed away, he had personally entrusted the command seal of the Xuanzhe Army to Grand General Chang.

Under Grand General Chang’s leadership, the Xuanzhe Army—battered and exhausted from a bitter campaign—spent three years in recovery and training, then struck a decisive victory against the Northern Di, restoring their former glory.

But after that battle, Grand General Chang suffered severe wounds and was later accused of defying imperial edicts. From that moment, command over the Xuanzhe Army fell into other hands.

Everyone wanted to seize this formidable force. At that time, the Holy Emperor had just ascended the throne, her authority yet unstable; every faction vied for power—political and military alike.

In the years that followed, the Xuanzhe Army was torn apart by competing interests. Those who held true influence were no longer seasoned commanders, but young noble scions—sons and nephews of high ministers. The army teetered on the brink of collapse.

The Holy Emperor, unwilling to see the elite force founded by the late Crown Prince fall into ruin, tried repeatedly to entrust it to loyal confidants. Yet the situation was beyond her full control—her chosen men lacked both the prestige and the strength to command the army’s respect, let alone to subdue the factions behind it.

This chaos dragged on for a long time—until Cui Ling’an appeared.

Everyone said then that the ancestral tomb of the Cui family must have been lit with crooked smoke—for it produced a young noble determined to carve his name upon the battlefield.

This young master of the Cui family, already a rising general of some renown, sought out the reclusive Chang Kuo more than once—three times in all. After being beaten on his third visit, he finally succeeded in convincing the old general to “descend from the mountains.” Though they bore no title of master and disciple, they shared its essence.

Most importantly, his surname was Cui.

Behind the young General Cui stood the mighty Cui clan—the foremost of all aristocratic families.

No one dared contend with him for control of the Xuanzhe Army, and even if they did, they would not prevail.

Thus, to preserve the army, the Holy Emperor had no choice but to choose him.

Of course, perhaps there were other reasons—reasons tied to the secrets hidden within the Celestial Maiden Tower, Wei Shuyi thought to himself.

At the beginning, Cui Ling’an relied on his family’s prestige and the aid of Chang Kuo to drive away the circling wolves.

Later, under his command, the Xuanzhe Army regained its former brilliance. Its rebirth made Cui Ling’an the rightful and undisputed Grand General of the Xuanzhe Army.

Today, when speaking of who truly mastered the Xuanzhe Army, none would question the name Cui Ling’an.

Wei Shuyi’s expression darkened.

He had long sensed the Holy Emperor’s intention—to have Ming Luo approach Cui Ling’an.

Cui Ling’an was far too difficult to control. This man seemed to have no weakness.

Born in heights that others could never reach even in a lifetime, he did not seek military glory for fame or advancement. No—his steps moved against the tide, ever downward.

A man of rebellion by nature, unmoved by wealth or power, always keeping a clarity that set him apart from all around him.

He never formed factions. He neither needed to nor cared to.

Since nothing else worked, perhaps beauty might—but even that failed, for he never accepted women bestowed upon him.

Countless officials tried to send beauties his way, none succeeded.

If not for beauty, then perhaps intellect?

Thus came Ming Luo—a female official with the right to participate in state affairs.

Yet, even that proved useless.

Even Wei Shuyi, merely watching from the side, could not help but sigh—truly vexing.

In short, Cui Ling’an was impervious to wealth and rank, unmoved by beauty or love.

—At least, that was what everyone thought until last year’s Hibiscus Banquet, when this man finally revealed a trace of desire. The court then realized: it was not that he disdained beauty; rather, no beauty until then had been enough to make him bow.

What a pity, Wei Shuyi mused. Fate is ever fickle—now that “beauty,” along with her father, had fallen out of imperial favor.

It was understandable that the Holy Emperor sought to balance such a man. But today, her actions seemed not merely wary—they carried the weight of genuine suspicion.

Was appointing Li Xian as Marshal of the Xuanzhe Army truly meant to “represent the throne and awe the realm”?

Or had Li Xian’s return to the capital been planned all along?

Wei Shuyi furrowed his brow.

Perhaps, whether Xu Zhengye truly marched upon Luoyang or not, the Holy Emperor had already resolved to let Li Xian meddle in the Xuanzhe Army’s affairs.

At such a turbulent juncture, the ruler sought to uproot all uncertainties—to hold every thread in her grasp.

But how the result would unfold… even Wei Shuyi could not foresee.

He was a close minister of the throne, raised and trusted by the Holy Emperor.

Yet Cui Ling’an was the man he truly admired—an unspoken friend.

Some things, he could not bear to witness, yet could not prevent.

As these thoughts whirled in his mind, Wei Shuyi lifted a small white jade teacup from the stand beside him.

The cup was delicate, translucent, with a faint blue mark on its base.

It was his favorite. As a child, he had begged his mother for it, scheming and pleading until she finally allowed him to borrow it. Ever since, he took it wherever he went.

He picked it up absentmindedly—but in that instant, his gaze sharpened.

A long-held question returned to him.

When he first met Chang Suining in Hezhou, she had left the Zhou family’s testimony inside his carriage. He had always wondered—how did she confirm his identity?

He had traveled in disguise, alerting no one, using a plain carriage. The only distinct thing aboard was… this set of tea cups.

Could it be—she recognized them?

Yet this set came from Princess Chongyue’s residence, never shown to outsiders. How could she possibly know them?

The more he thought, the more it seemed that between her and the Princess’s household, there lay countless hidden threads.

His curiosity toward her—his constant testing and watchfulness—all stemmed from this very sense of mystery he had sensed long ago.

Ordinarily, as one grew familiar with another, confusion gave way to understanding. But with her, it was the opposite—the closer he drew, the less he understood.

Gazing at the jade teacup in his hand, countless unanswered moments flooded his mind, rising to a peak.

It was late. The carriage did not stop outside the Marquis of Zheng’s residence but entered directly through the side gate wide enough for carriages.

As Wei Shuyi stepped down, a servant who had been waiting bowed and said, “Madam instructed that once Young Master returns, he is to go to Haofeng Courtyard.”

Wei Shuyi nodded.

Just as well—he wished to see his mother too.

 Chapter 275.1: The Unacknowledged Friend

An official instinctively said, “But Grand General Cui is still stationed in the Northern Frontier...”

Wei Shuyi replied, “Luoyang lies in the Central Plains. If Grand General Cui sets out from the Anbei Protectorate, the distance to Luoyang would not differ much from that of Xu Zhengye’s forces marching northward from Yangzhou.”

Yangzhou lay in the south, Anbei in the north, with Luoyang positioned right between the two.

This very fact alone proved Luoyang’s exceptional strategic importance—precisely why the Holy Emperor dared not harbor even a trace of carelessness regarding this battle.

At this moment, upon hearing Wei Shuyi’s proposal, the Holy Emperor lowered her gaze to the map before her. “But Xu Zhengye has already passed Xuzhou...”

“Yet Bianzhou can still serve as a blockade,” Wei Shuyi replied. “In terms of timing, it should still be feasible.”

“But the Northern Frontier must remain heavily guarded,” one minister interjected. “If the Xuanzhe Army withdraws, the Northern Di may seize the chance to invade!”

“There is no need for the Xuanzhe Army to withdraw,” Ma Xingzhou turned to Wei Shuyi. “I take it the Deputy Minister’s meaning is for Grand General Cui to personally ride for Luoyang and join the seventy thousand Xuanzhe troops dispatched from the capital there—”

“Precisely,” Wei Shuyi affirmed. “The Northern Frontier must remain secure. The eighty thousand Xuanzhe soldiers stationed there shall continue fortifying the borders.”

What they needed at this moment was a commander capable of leading the Xuanzhe Army.

“I concur,” another minister declared. “With seventy thousand Xuanzhe troops from the capital, if joined by Grand General Cui, Luoyang’s safety will be assured!”

This was not blind reverence but confidence built upon countless victories over the years.

The ministers began calculating the time required for the armies’ movements and Grand General Cui’s route from the Northern Frontier to Luoyang.

“The Grand General,” one concluded, “if he leads a light cavalry and rides south through Hedong, should be able to rendezvous with the seventy thousand troops in time!”

Though the capital was geographically closer to Luoyang, the marching of a full army would take longer. A light cavalry could move far swifter by spur and steel.

Hence, Wei Shuyi’s strategy was indeed feasible in terms of timing.

Yet, as the Holy Emperor remained silent, seeming to hesitate in her deliberation, Ma Xingzhou spoke:

“Your Majesty, if Grand General Cui commands this battle, not only will Luoyang be secured—”

“When Grand General Cui leads the Xuanzhe Army in Luoyang, while General Xiao and General Chang strike from behind, if the two forces act in concert, Xu Zhengye’s advance and retreat will both be cut off. His rebel army could thus be annihilated in one decisive stroke, ending all troubles once and for all, and serving as a warning to all who would rebel.”

The Holy Emperor’s gaze shifted slowly from the map.

A solution that promised to end all strife at once—indeed, it was tempting.

If Xu Zhengye’s faction could be eradicated entirely, that would be ideal.

There were others capable of leading the army, yet, as the ministers said, only Cui Jing could maximize the odds of victory.

The finest army must be matched with the finest commander; otherwise, its strength would be squandered.

When Xu Zhengye first raised his troops, the Holy Emperor had been furious but not alarmed. Yet after Li Yi’s repeated defeats and the fall of Jiangning...

Now that this traitorous usurper dared covet Luoyang itself—she could not afford the slightest misstep. To ensure perfection, she must send Cui Jing.

But if Cui Jing were to command the Xuanzhe Army at Luoyang, there were other matters that stirred unease within her heart.

One was the current commander of the Xuanzhe Army.

The other—the true former master of that army.

And as misfortune would have it, the former had once, before all at the Hibiscus Banquet last year, publicly declared his vow to marry none but her.

Moreover, after the incident involving the Changsun family, the restive ambitions of the Cui clan...

Each matter, buried deep within her heart, was like a hidden thorn—unsettled and dangerous, liable to pierce the throne’s peace at any time.

After weighing it carefully, the Holy Emperor’s gaze once again rested upon Luoyang on the map. At last she spoke:

“What my beloved ministers say is sound. None but Lord Cui can command this battle.”

“However,” she continued, “since Lord Cui will ride swiftly to Luoyang, for the sake of his safety, his movements must remain secret. He shall depart under imperial seal, yet none must know of his journey.”

Ma Xingzhou and the others bowed. “Your Majesty’s foresight is beyond compare—it should indeed be so.”

The Holy Emperor added, “To prevent suspicion among the prefectures, an official commander shall still be appointed in name, leading the seventy thousand Xuanzhe troops from the capital. I shall personally explain the matter to him; once they reach Luoyang, he will hand command to Lord Cui.”

The ministers discussed the proposal among themselves.

Although the appointed commander would be a mere decoy, the choice still required caution—every move in such times demanded precision.

Wei Shuyi, suspecting her intent, ventured carefully, “Then perhaps, Your Majesty, a general may be selected from within the Xuanzhe Army itself to serve as acting commander?”

The Holy Emperor considered this, then replied, “The officers currently stationed in the Xuanzhe Camp are all below the Fourth Rank—insufficient to command respect, nor to demonstrate My resolve in defending Luoyang.”

Wei Shuyi bowed slightly. “Yes, Your Majesty.” He did not press further.

Other officials offered names in turn, yet before the Holy Emperor even spoke, others had already voiced their disapproval. Truly, none seemed suitable.

A sigh rippled through the ranks.

Among the grand imperial court, there were scarcely any generals of true merit left. He Wei might have been one, but now…

Had there been a few more capable commanders, they would not have needed to recall Cui Jing from the frontier.

And then there was that so-called “rising star”—if Xu Zhengye were to seize Luoyang, such a title would become a mockery before the empire.

At length, the Holy Emperor said slowly, “I have thought of one who may bear the post.”

The court stilled.

“Li Xian will arrive in the capital tomorrow.”

A murmur spread among the officials.

The Marquis of Han was returning to court?

—

Li Xian’s original surname was He, not Li. The imperial surname was bestowed upon him.

He was, however, the Holy Emperor’s own nephew.

Before ascending the throne, the Holy Emperor had an elder sister who married a military officer surnamed He—He Fu, who was of the same clan as General He Wei.

Upon her enthronement, the Holy Emperor granted He Fu the title Marquis of Han, while his wife, Ming Shi, became the Marquisate of Han.

The Marquisate passed away early. Three years ago, when the Southern Barbarians rose in rebellion, the Marquis of Han and his eldest son, Li Xian, led troops to suppress the unrest. The aged Marquis, already weakened by southern miasma, died in the field a year later.

The Southern Barbarians grew bolder still, until the Holy Emperor dispatched Cui Jing and Chang Kuo with the Xuanzhe Army to subdue them.

Two years later, the southern lands were pacified. Last spring, Cui Jing and Chang Kuo returned triumphant, while Li Xian—who had inherited the title of Marquis of Han—remained to stabilize the southern borders.

Only recently had he been summoned back to the capital by imperial decree.

—

By the time Wei Shuyi and the others left the palace, night had fallen.

Outside the palace gates, after exchanging farewells with his colleagues, Wei Shuyi stepped into his sedan, his thoughts weighed by the evening’s decisions.

 Chapter 274.2: A Game of Soldiers and Pieces

Not long after the morning court session, the Holy Emperor summoned her senior ministers to the Ganlu Hall for a private council.

The combined forces stationed in Luoyang and Bianzhou alone were insufficient to repel Xu Zhengye’s rebellious army.

As for the surrounding prefectures near Luoyang—she did not dare place her trust in them either.

Thus, she needed to dispatch additional reinforcements to Luoyang.

“...Luoyang is not like any other place—there must not be the slightest mishap. If we are to send reinforcements, we must send only the finest of troops,” said Prime Minister Ma Xingzhou. “Your Majesty, there are still seventy thousand elite soldiers within the capital who can be mobilized.”

Everyone present knew exactly which troops he was referring to.

They were Da Sheng’s most elite army—founded by the late Crown Prince—known as the Xuanzhe Army.

The Xuanzhe Command currently commanded a total of one hundred and fifty thousand men. Earlier, when Commander Cui Jing had departed for the northern frontier, he had taken eighty thousand with him, leaving seventy thousand still stationed in the capital’s Xuanzhe Camp.

At this, an official hesitated and spoke up, “Lord Ma… these seventy thousand soldiers of the Xuanzhe Army bear the vital duty of guarding the capital’s heartlands—how can they be easily moved?”

Indeed, while the capital was not defended by these seventy thousand alone, their presence formed an unshakable wall of protection, ensuring true stability within the imperial city.

In ordinary times, such cautious restraint might not have been necessary—but now, uprisings were breaking out across the realm.

Ma Xingzhou understood this as well. Yet he merely sighed. “The most urgent task now is to hold Luoyang.”

A few ministers echoed the sigh.

There was no perfect plan—every choice came with its gains and losses. And the final decision could only rest upon the emperor’s will.

The Holy Emperor fell into deep contemplation. She summoned the officials of the Ministry of War and several military officers to reexamine every detail of the situation and reassess the capital’s security.

In the end, she made her decision.

“Convey my command—order the seventy thousand soldiers of the Xuanzhe Army to march and defend Luoyang. The Xuanzhe Command must begin preparations for deployment at once!”

No matter what, she could not allow Luoyang to fall.

If the city were to be seized by Xu Zhengye today, imperial authority would be lost. And once imperial authority crumbled, the realm would change hands in an instant.

The Holy Emperor ordered Yu Zeng to personally deliver the imperial decree to the Xuanzhe Command.

Yu Zeng obeyed and immediately departed from the Ganlu Hall.

Leaving the Inner Palace, he entered his sedan chair with a retinue of palace attendants hurrying alongside.

Inside the sedan, Yu Zeng held the sacred decree in his hands. His long phoenix-like eyes lowered, concealing the expression within them.

As they passed by the Secretariat and moved toward the Six Ministries, Grand Tutor Zhu was just emerging from the Ministry of Rites, accompanied by several officials and Imperial Guards carrying blades.

The first session of the Spring Imperial Examination would begin tomorrow. They were personally escorting the sealed test papers to the examination hall—roads had been cleared, and no one was permitted near.

The solemn atmosphere did not stop Grand Tutor Zhu from voicing his discontent. Glancing toward the hastening eunuchs, he muttered, “Running about in such a rush… how unbecoming.”

The other officials dared not respond—each stared straight ahead, as if fearing their own breath might betray them.

They knew better than to speak carelessly; even a single misplaced word could be twisted into a charge of “leaking examination secrets,” a crime punishable by death.

Grand Tutor Zhu, elderly as he was, sat within his sedan under imperial exemption. With a sigh of satisfaction, he lifted the cup of health tea prepared for him and took a leisurely sip.

He had, of course, already heard of Xu Zhengye’s change of route toward Luoyang—but the old tutor remained utterly unruffled.

After all, his student was still there. What was there to worry about?

From what he had quietly observed in recent days, Grand Tutor Zhu suspected that the Holy Emperor herself might have already guessed something about that student of his.

If she knew, yet still acted in such haste—did it not mean she did not trust her?

He let out a soft, mocking laugh, setting the teacup down with a quiet clack.

“People… the higher they stand, the more they fear. And the more they fear, the less they see clearly.”

His voice sank into a sigh that was half mockery, half lament. “Pitiful. Truly pitiful.”

But the most pitiful of all—was still that unlucky student of his.

When that student first appeared before him, she had been no more than a small pawn.

A foolish little pawn who thought she had fooled the one upon the Dragon Throne—believing herself to be the deceiver, not the deceived.

The old tutor chuckled bitterly.

“None of them are any good,” he muttered, setting the cup down hard upon the small pearwood table beside him.

From the start, that was why he had paid her particular attention—curious to see what kind of fool she would grow into.

But later, he realized—she was not a fool at all.

The little pawn had grown into a large one.

“This time,” he murmured inwardly, “let her be clever enough not to be played again.”

Otherwise, he thought grimly, she would shame her teacher.

—

After the Holy Emperor decreed the Xuanzhe Army’s deployment, discussion turned to the question of who would lead the troops.

This choice was crucial. Even the sharpest blade, when placed in the wrong hands, became no better than a broken one.

Furthermore—

An official spoke up cautiously, “The Xuanzhe Army has always been… set apart from others. If the commander is not chosen wisely, it may arouse resistance among the ranks.”

Realizing how his words might sound, he quickly bowed and fell silent.

Wei Shuyi frowned slightly.

Was that man implying that the Xuanzhe Army was difficult to command?

He spoke, his tone calm yet firm. “The Xuanzhe Army follows the will of the late Crown Prince and remains loyal to the Da Sheng Dynasty. Its discipline is strict, and it is precisely this proud and unyielding spirit that has kept it undefeated and steadfast in defending our borders.”

“If an army were filled only with those who echo others’ words, then under a commander like Li Yi, it would easily become a blade in a rebel’s hand,” Wei Shuyi continued. “I daresay—if Li Yi had once commanded the Xuanzhe Army, not one of its soldiers would have been deceived by him.”

The official immediately nodded. “Indeed, Lord Wei speaks truly.”

Wei Shuyi gave a faint smile. “However, Lord Fang’s concern is not without merit. To make full use of the Xuanzhe Army’s strength, we must appoint a commander who truly deserves such a fine blade.”

Then he turned toward the Holy Emperor and bowed.

“Your Majesty, in such a time of crisis, none could be more fitting than Grand General Cui to command the expedition. Only thus can we ensure victory beyond doubt.”

 Chapter 274.1: A Game of Soldiers and Pieces

“The talk about the ‘thirteenth day’—now that is truly absurd! If this continues, the fall of the dynasty may not be far off!”

“Lord Qu, that statement is mistaken,” Wei Shuyi replied, unbothered by the other’s darkened expression. “She is not some nameless girl of no standing—” he corrected, “—she is the General of Ningyuan.”

He then turned toward the Holy Emperor above and cupped his hands. “The very same General of Ningyuan who has rendered countless military merits and was personally ennobled by Your Majesty.”

The civil official surnamed Qu looked faintly disdainful. “So, because she once showed valor in battle, she must now be beyond reproach? If right and wrong are blurred in such a manner, would that not upend the natural order of precedence?”

Wei Shuyi’s expression remained calm. “When the peril of Luoyang lies before us and no strategy yet devised, why are Your Excellencies so eager to condemn a general currently pursuing the rebel army? Would that not be the true inversion of priorities?”

The older official, more than a decade Wei Shuyi’s senior, flushed red. “Then tell me, Lord Wei—who bears the blame for Xu Zhengye’s march toward Luoyang?”

Wei Shuyi’s gaze steadied, his mildness withdrawing. He spoke solemnly: “Naturally, the blame lies with the rebel. It lies with Xu Zhengye.”

“And,” he continued, “if we fail to respond effectively—if we cannot devise a sound countermeasure in time and thereby allow Luoyang to fall—then the fault will be mine, Lord Qu’s, and that of the entire court.”

A hush fell over the hall.

Then the young minister spoke again: “The battle’s outcome remains uncertain. Why rush to pronounce judgment? If Grand General Chang and General of Ningyuan indeed cause the fall of Luoyang through grave error, the Holy Emperor will surely deliver justice afterward—none shall be shielded. But now, before the battle has even reached its end, to condemn them by a single proclamation—does this not chill the hearts of the one hundred seventy thousand soldiers still fighting the rebels? Shall this war be fought or not? Shall the rebels be pursued or abandoned?”

Qu Pingsheng’s expression flickered.

Even the few officials of the Cui clan standing behind him fell silent.

The Holy Emperor watched them all, her gaze deep and unreadable.

Voices of dissent and argument within the court were not inherently a bad thing. Yet, regrettably, such voices were seldom pure—they often hid ulterior motives and self-serving aims, far from the lofty righteousness they pretended to espouse.

At such moments, she needed men like Wei Shuyi—to quell these hidden agendas.

“Lord Wei speaks reason,” the Holy Emperor said at last. “To fix blame now is far too early and detrimental to morale. Though General of Ningyuan is young, Grand General Chang stands beside her. We, seated here in the capital, cannot fully grasp the situation in Jiangdu. Perhaps Grand General Chang has his own strategy to turn the tide.”

These words were meant for the court. The murmurs of disapproval that followed were not unexpected.

Was she truly without doubts herself?

Of course not.

Listening to the reports and analyses predicting that Chang Kuo and his forces would fail to intercept Xu Zhengye, the Holy Emperor’s heart grew heavy.

Yet her thoughts extended further than those of her officials.

What she had just said was, in truth, her genuine belief—only those on the front lines could truly comprehend the situation in Jiangdu.

Especially Ah Shang.

Ah Shang possessed a deep and seasoned grasp of warfare, along with an uncanny instinct for anticipating the flow of battle.

She was her daughter. And she knew her well.

Ah Shang acted with deliberate precision, as though every move were part of a long-laid game of chess. Impulsiveness was foreign to her. Every possible consequence of her proclamation—she must have foreseen them all.

So… it was understandable that others failed to predict Xu Zhengye’s sudden turn toward Luoyang. But Ah Shang—Ah Shang could not have failed to foresee it. Could she?

Moreover, she had previously devoted all her forces to fortification, forcing Xu Zhengye to “see the difficulty and change his route”…

Then she had chosen to defend without attacking, allowing Xu Zhengye to rally his troops…

And soon after, that very proclamation appeared, thrusting Xu Zhengye into a whirlpool of self-justification.

Piece by piece, these events aligned in the Holy Emperor’s mind—like chess pieces falling into formation, revealing a greater design.

She could almost see it now—A Shang had been setting her pieces in motion ever since pacifying Li Yi and taking command in the army.

Thus, Xu Zhengye’s turn toward Luoyang, seemingly unexpected, was in truth a step deliberately lured by A Shang’s design.

The Holy Emperor’s fingers tightened on the gold-threaded sleeve embroidered with dragons.

Xu Zhengye had entered the game. But was this game truly aimed at him?

Or rather—

Was Ah Shang leading Xu Zhengye into the Central Plains, to seize Luoyang and stand in defiance against her—the Holy Emperor herself?

Was she using Xu Zhengye… to strike back at her?

That was her daughter.

She did not wish to doubt her own child—what mother would?

But that child had refused to acknowledge her, fled from her at every turn, and denied her even the chance to speak.

Indeed, the Ah Shang she remembered was the one from before the marriage alliance to the Northern Di…

In those three years among the Northern Di, Ah Shang had endured torment beyond imagination. Such suffering… might well have bred hatred toward her own mother.

That thought plunged the Holy Emperor into a cold abyss.

She had longed for Ah Shang’s return, envisioned countless possibilities—yet never this one. Perhaps her understanding of Ah Shang had frozen at the moment she departed for the Northern Di.

The Ah Shang she remembered had eyes only for the Da Sheng Dynasty, its people, her soldiers… and her family—her mother and her brother, Ah Xiao.

But the Ah Shang who had returned… was no longer that same girl.

Was this estrangement merely temporary defiance—or would it harden into lasting hatred?

The Holy Emperor had wanted to speak with her, even once. Though that wish had gone unfulfilled, she had at least granted her the freedom to remain in the army, bestowing upon her a general’s title—a mother’s gesture of goodwill. Yet her daughter seemed blind to it.

A mother should not harbor suspicion toward her own child—least of all one burdened by guilt.

But she was not only a mother.

She lifted her gaze toward the gathered officials.

She was also an emperor.

A mother could afford unreasoned trust. An emperor could not.

What’s more—her daughter bore the surname Li. She, too, was a Li.

And as a ruler of another surname—an “outsider sovereign”—the Holy Emperor could not allow even the faintest complacency to endanger her fragile reign.

Thus, while she did not question the young general’s ability, she questioned her intent.

And she could not—must not—allow Luoyang to fall.

That day, the Holy Emperor issued a series of urgent decrees to Luoyang, commanding full fortifications and defensive readiness against Xu Zhengye’s rebel forces.

Some officials proposed sending reinforcements from nearby prefectures.

But the Holy Emperor denied it.

“Do my beloved ministers still recall Prefect Wei Jun of Chuzhou?”

At once, silence fell across the grand hall.

That same Prefect Wei Jun had secretly defected to Xu Zhengye, unnoticed by all—until Chang Kuo and his troops crossed into Chuzhou, and Wei Jun laid his ambush under the guise of a banquet.

The Luoyang region, too, was webbed with powerful noble clans. The Changsun family had originated there; even in decline, their influence lingered.

If the nearby prefectures—many of whose officials were tied to these clans—were dispatched to aid Luoyang, and another “Wei Jun” emerged among them… then they might well deliver Luoyang into Xu Zhengye’s hands.

With such bitter lessons behind her, the increasingly suspicious Holy Emperor dared not take that risk.

 Chapter 273.2: Has the Time Not Yet Come?

So… those thirty thousand soldiers were sent to their deaths for nothing?

Ge Zhiqing still thought that he had been favored by his lord, granted the honor of leading the vanguard, believing that soon the main force would follow to jointly attack Huainan Prefecture…

Little did he know that from the moment he took the command token, he had already become a discarded pawn—he and those thirty thousand soldiers together, nothing more than sacrifices in Xu Zhengye’s ruse of striking east while feinting west.

Looking at the calm expression on Xu Zhengye’s face before him, Luo Guanlin felt a chill rise from the depths of his heart—one steeped in sorrow and despair.

Sensing his unease, Xu Zhengye sighed lightly. “Guanlin, on the road to great ambition, mercy is a fatal weakness.”

Luo Guanlin lowered his gaze, answering only after a long silence, “Yes.”

Then Xu Zhengye’s voice sounded again. “Preparations for our journey to Luoyang have begun. Guanlin, will you accompany me?”

The words made Luo Guanlin feel as though he had been brought back to their first meeting.

That night, beneath the moonlight upon a painted barge, the man had invited him: ‘I seek to overthrow the usurping demon empress, restore the rightful Li dynasty, and save the realm from fire and water. Would you, worthy brother, walk this path with me?’

At that time, Luo Guanlin had been deeply stirred, readily pledging to follow him—believing he had finally met a kindred spirit, that the path ahead would not be lonely.

Yet as they journeyed thus far, he had only grown more disillusioned.

He raised his hand in salute and said quietly, “I am no man of the sword, and should I go to Luoyang, I fear I would only hinder my lord. I therefore wish to remain in Jiangdu.”

Xu Zhengye regarded him deeply, then nodded. “Very well. The journey will be perilous. If you remain here, I will be more at ease.”

He patted Luo Guanlin’s shoulder. “Jiangdu is of great importance. I leave it in your care for now. Once I have secured Luoyang, I will send for you to join me there.”

Luo Guanlin remained silent, bowing once more.

Soon after, someone came requesting an audience, and Xu Zhengye departed.

Luo Guanlin stood motionless for a long time before finally taking a step.

The next day, a friend sought him out. “How could you volunteer to stay in Jiangdu? Once the Grand General departs, this will be the most dangerous place! How could you possibly hold it?”

Then he sighed. “Even if you’re angry with the Grand General, you shouldn’t gamble your life out of spite…”

Luo Guanlin’s expression changed. “That’s not it!”

What foolish talk of anger or spite?

He was no petty, jealous woman!

At least this time—truly, he was not.

He simply could not, and dared not, go any farther. The road ahead was not the one he had envisioned.

Weary, Luo Guanlin closed his eyes, unmoved by his friend’s persuasion.

He had made a wrong choice in Jiangdu back then. Since it began here, it would end here.

He would guard Jiangdu—live with it if it stood, perish with it if it fell.

To live was his fortune; to die, his fate.

“Report!”

Two scouts galloped back to camp with urgent news.

They had discovered signs of Xu Zhengye’s army on the move—marching toward Shouzhou.

Xiao Min’s eyes flashed sharply, and he turned to Chang Kuo.

It was an instinctive motion, and the very next moment he saw the Grand General looking toward his daughter—the expression on his face just as instinctive.

Xiao Min was used to it by now, though he still didn’t quite understand it—and each time, he was still faintly shocked.

But now was the time for serious matters. Xiao Min turned to Chang Suining. “It seems Xu Zhengye truly intends to strike Huainan Prefecture!”

“He’ll strike, yes—but if he doesn’t, how could he feign an attack to conceal his real move?” Chang Suining said. “The question is only how much of his force he’s willing to sacrifice.”

The scout reported: the enemy numbered about thirty thousand.

Xiao Min was about to speak when the young woman had already risen. She turned to him and said, “Commander Xiao, since Xu Zhengye has moved, to seize the initiative, we must act without delay. Let us proceed according to plan.”

“But…” Faced with a choice that could determine victory or defeat, Xiao Min hesitated. “Is Lady Chang certain that Xu Zhengye intends to march on Luoyang?”

“Yes,” Chang Suining replied solemnly. “My father placed a spy in Xu’s army. I’ve just received a secret report—Xu Zhengye is already preparing to attack Luoyang.”

Chang Kuo: “?”

When had he planted such a spy—and one capable of uncovering such sensitive plans?

Xiao Min looked at him.

Chang Kuo nodded, grave and calm. “Mm…”

Indeed, he had planted such a spy… likely sometime during one of his dreams.

Chang Suining took the short blade from the weapon rack, slid it into her boot, then straightened and accepted the black cloak handed to her by Xi’er.

Chang Kuo stayed behind to command the army, first dispatching Deputy General Jin and Chu Xing to lead the troops against Xu Zhengye’s thirty thousand.

News of Xu Zhengye’s march from Shouzhou to attack Huainan soon reached the capital.

Ten days later, however, a more urgent report arrived—Xu Zhengye had suddenly led one hundred thousand troops out of Jiangdu, not toward Huainan or the capital, but northward—he had already crossed Xuzhou!

The court erupted in shock and fury. That traitor’s supposed assault on Huainan had been a ruse—his true goal was the Eastern Capital, Luoyang!

The Holy Emperor’s expression hardened as she addressed the messenger. “What are Commander Xiao and General Chang doing now?”

“Your Majesty, Commander Xiao has led the army in pursuit!”

“Pursuit…” The Holy Emperor closed her eyes briefly. To pursue meant to have already fallen behind—merely to chase in vain.

“Since Xu Zhengye has crossed Xuzhou, once he takes the Bian River and captures Bianzhou, he can march straight to Luoyang! If we only pursue from behind, it will be too late!” a minister cried. “Your Majesty must dispatch reinforcements to Luoyang at once!”

Luoyang and the capital faced each other east and west—Luoyang must not fall into the traitor’s hands!

As the court debated strategies, some began blaming Chang Kuo and Xiao Min for their failure to foresee this move. Others turned their scorn upon that widely-circulated proclamation.

It had been the perfect time to attack Yangzhou—yet instead of taking any real action, they had written a flashy, useless piece of rhetoric!

The proclamation had accused Xu Zhengye of scheming to crown himself King of Jiangdu, causing his allies to doubt him. Perhaps it was precisely to dispel those doubts that he now turned his ambition toward Luoyang—to prove his loyalty to the Crown Prince!

And to make matters worse, that girl had boldly declared she would take Xu Zhengye’s head within seventy-three days—yet now he was already on his way to Luoyang! What “severing his head” could she possibly speak of now?

That Chang girl’s fame might be small matter—but after this, the army’s credibility would be shattered, and the situation would only worsen.

She had sought glory with her pen, yet brought calamity instead—provoking Xu Zhengye into marching on Luoyang without the ability to clean up the mess!

A mere young woman, with a few scraps of talent and luck, was granted a general’s seal and immediately let it cloud her head—recklessly acting without foresight! And Chang Kuo, too, had failed to restrain her!

Thus, many at court began accusing him of “failing to discipline his daughter.”

“Why be so quick to judge, my lords?” Wei Shuyi finally spoke, his gaze sweeping across them. “The seventy-three days she spoke of—have they yet passed? To condemn now—is that not rather premature?”

 Chapter 273.1: Has the Day Not Yet Come

“It seems this proclamation serves not only to sow discord but also as a deliberate provocation.”

In Yangzhou, within the Command Headquarters of the Restoration Army, General Xu Zhengye gave a cold sneer as he flung several confidential letters across the table. “This is precisely her purpose.”

In recent days, nearly all the bureaucrats and aristocratic clans who had been supporting him—both openly and in secret—had been urging him to resume his offensive against Huainan Prefecture. Some even questioned why he continued to linger in Jiangdu instead of advancing, asking when he would finally bring about the grand plan of enthroning the Crown Prince.

Some went so far as to send “ultimatums,” declaring that if he failed to take Huainan Prefecture within a certain number of days, they would withdraw their financial and military support.

“Are these people fools?” one of Xu Zhengye’s generals fumed. “Can they not see that wretched proclamation was meant to divide us? Lately, even in our own ranks, there are unruly soldiers spreading rumors—clearly stirred up by their agents!”

By “their agents,” he meant the men secretly placed in Xu Zhengye’s army by those same noble families. They provided him with money and manpower—but in doing so, they also sought to keep him under their control.

It was a relationship of mutual exploitation; there was no such thing as a favor freely given.

“They are not fools—they’re far shrewder than anyone else,” Xu Zhengye replied, narrowing his cold eyes. “They’ve doubted me all along. That proclamation merely gave them an excuse to act on their suspicions.”

“In their eyes, since I’ve taken their silver, I ought to deliver them results. Now that I remain here in Jiangdu, they cannot help but believe the slander in that proclamation…”

That document accused him of using the slogan of “restoring the Li dynasty” as a façade—while secretly harboring ambitions to crown himself King of Jiangdu.

To the great clans, this second claim was the true threat. Having spent vast sums of money and lent him their strength, they would never tolerate being used merely to pave the road for Xu Zhengye’s own throne.

The general glanced at the pile of letters, resentment burning in his eyes. “They really think themselves my masters!”

Xu Zhengye, however, had regained his composure. His voice was calm again. “For now—and for what lies ahead—we must still rely on them.”

In other words, the time had not yet come to break with them completely.

His grand design required money, provisions, and manpower—but it also depended on those entrenched powers opening doors for him across the realm. Until then, he could not afford to lose his “Restoration” banner.

And to preserve that name, he could not remain entrenched in Jiangdu, lest he truly appear to be a self-proclaimed monarch.

“She goads me because she knows Jiangdu is easy to defend but hard to attack,” Xu Zhengye said, glancing down at the proclamation. “She dares not assault the city outright, so she plays her trick—pressuring me from all sides to force my hand.”

“This young woman’s words may sound arrogant, but her mind is far from reckless.”

He wondered who had advised her on this—Chang Kuo? Xiao Min? Or perhaps some other strategist altogether?

In his view, the reason that proclamation bore Chang Suining’s name was simply to exploit the mystique of her “reincarnated general star.” It didn’t necessarily mean the plan had been her own idea.

“What does the Grand General intend now?” the general asked through gritted teeth.

Xu Zhengye’s eyes grew darker. “Since she wishes to provoke me into battle, then let us oblige her.”

The general immediately stepped forward, cupping his fists. “Allow me to lead the army! I’ll take the heads of the Chang father and daughter to end these false rumors once and for all!”

That impudent young woman had dared to predict his commander’s death date—spreading panic throughout the ranks. She deserved to die for that alone.

Moreover, the general’s name was Ge Zhìqing, the cousin of Ge Zong, who had fallen beneath Chang Suining’s blade. Though they had not been close, their fates were tied by name and family—one’s glory was the other’s. For him, this was both vengeance and duty.

“Very well.” Xu Zhengye gave him a look of approval. “Then Zhìqing shall lead thirty thousand men to attack Shouzhou first. Probe their defenses.”

Ge Zhìqing’s eyes lit with murderous resolve. “Your command, I obey!”

Standing nearby, Luo Guanlin’s expression shifted, but he said nothing.

Once the strategy was set, Ge Zhìqing departed swiftly, eager to mobilize his troops.

Not long after, Xu Zhengye stepped out from the council hall and descended the stone steps. He paused beside a half-height lotus urn, gazing into its water. “After the Lantern Festival, the weather truly grows warmer by the day…”

A Daoist standing behind him, holding a horsetail whisk, smiled knowingly. “Congratulations, Lord Xu—the east wind has arrived.”

Warm weather meant thawed rivers and clear waters—the season for campaigns had come.

“I hadn’t meant to act in haste,” Xu Zhengye murmured, eyes fixed upon the reflection of the sky, “but someone chose to play clever tricks.”

He had wanted to wait until all his plans were set before moving, but the proclamation had forced his hand.

Thinking of that self-assured young woman, Xu Zhengye laughed softly. “Tell me, Master, do you think this ‘seventy-three days’ prophecy bears any truth?”

“Nothing but bewitching nonsense,” the Daoist replied, stroking his beard. “From what I see, Lord Xu’s destiny is flourishing—your great enterprise is near at hand. You need not trouble yourself over a girl’s empty boasts. If you truly fear she might pose a threat, you may simply remove her later.”

Xu Zhengye’s smile deepened. “I need not lift a hand. She’ll pay for her own arrogance.”

He looked back into the still water, where the blue sky mirrored his calm expression. “Jiangdu is a fine place—rich, defensible, and well-suited for long-term residence…”

But a true dragon cannot remain submerged forever.

His ambition was far greater than that little proclamation suggested. Jiangdu was merely his starting point—not his destiny.

Moreover, the current political climate would not allow him to linger. Should he stay any longer, doubts would fester and loyalty would wane. Everything he had built could unravel.

“Grand General.”

A figure in dark blue appeared at the edge of his vision. Xu Zhengye turned, smiling. “Guanlin—was there something you wished to say?”

He had noticed the hesitation earlier, during the war council.

He dismissed the Daoist with a gesture; soon only the two of them remained.

Facing that gentle smile, Luo Guanlin spoke carefully, the last thread of hope in his voice. “Grand General… you’ve ordered Ge Zhìqing to march on Shouzhou. Does that mean you’ve abandoned the plan to head for Luoyang?”

Luoyang—that had been Xu Zhengye’s secret plan before the Lantern Festival, discussed only among his closest advisors. The generals had yet to hear of it.

Xu Zhengye shook his head. “No—the plan remains. I am merely advancing the timetable.”

He had once intended to strike directly toward the capital. But since his defeat at Hezhou, he knew that road was no longer viable. Thus, he had chosen another path—

—to the eastern capital, Luoyang.

If he could seize and secure Luoyang, he would gain legitimacy and new allies. There, he could build the political foundation he needed.

Luo Guanlin was taken aback. “Then why send Ge Zhìqing to attack Huainan Prefecture?”

Xu Zhengye’s tone was quiet but firm. “Someone must draw Chang Kuo’s army away—and distract the imperial forces.”

Luo Guanlin froze where he stood.

 Chapter 272.2: A Grand Spectacle

Among the throng of refugees, a gaunt little girl with a pale face and clear, wide eyes peered up at the old man beside her and asked.

Children possess not yet a firm grasp of right and wrong, but she knew this much: on the day the marauding troops burst into Jiangning, her fair mother had been taken by those soldiers; her father, trying to rescue her mother, had been hacked down; her grandfather had surrendered everything the household owned, knelt and kowtowed to those men until his head was split open, and only then had they spared her life.

From that moment, her home was gone.

On the road of flight she learned, little by little, that those raiders served a general called Xu Zhengye—but the general of the tale was not the saviour of the storyteller; he was a slayer of men.

She wished that murderous general would die at once.

The old man, hearing this, clapped his hand wildly over the child’s mouth. “...Do not speak nonsense!”

“You’re wrong!” a boy of some ten or twelve stepped forward, clenching his fist and crying aloud, “It’s sixty-five days — not seventy-three. Eight days have already passed!”

No elders stood over him; no one kept him in check, and the other refugees fell into whispering.

They had all heard the proclamation in which the Ningyuan general vowed that within seventy-three days he would take the head of the traitor Xu. That proclamation had been carried far and wide.

Ordinary people would have laughed such words off as drowned stones—no one would heed them. But this Ningyuan general, though born a woman, had repeatedly won extraordinary deeds and carried a fame coated in peculiar wonder.

That which ordinary folk could not accomplish, a wonderworker might yet achieve.

Since the accession of the Holy Emperor, Taoist and Buddhist shrines had sprung up across Da Sheng, and people were wont to propitiate and consult the spirits and mysteries; they were the sort to prefer to believe in such things.

Some declared the matter with conviction, others wavered in doubt, and some scoffed—but none of that prevented them from beginning, in their hearts, to count down the days until that appointed time.

True or false, the answer would emerge in sixty-five days.

At that moment a patched monk in fraying robes passed the refugee column and, with a sigh, intoned “Amitabha.”

“Master,” a little monk trailing him asked, “do you think — that Young Miss Chang truly received guidance from a celestial immortal? Or is she merely speaking boastfully?”

“Perhaps it is to save people.” The old monk walked slowly and answered slowly. “If the villain is thus forewarned, like a sword hanging above him, his strength will be disordered and his path obstructed. For the stricken people, such a dawn gives hope and will to survive — the very seed of life.”

The little monk did not fully understand; his curiosity remained: “But is there truly a celestial immortal?”

“There can be.” The old monk replied. “If she makes her big words come true, then she is a celestial saviour.”

“And if she cannot?”

The old monk shook his head and sighed: “Then it will be a calamity...”

If she fails, she will no longer be a destined military star but a known deceiver; her renown will be shattered, and those who had seen in her a glimmer of hope will be driven by righteous anger to strike back. Her doom will be irreversible.

Hearing this, the little monk suddenly felt concern for that noble lady.

He asked one more thing: “Master, why must it be seventy-three days?”

The old man pondered, then shook his head; the mystery eluded him.

Not only they could not fathom it — Xiao Min, who read that proclamation three times a day, could not make sense of it either; it gnawed at him ceaselessly.

The rest of the manifesto’s purpose he understood; only that time limit vexed him.

One day, under the pretense of discussing military affairs, Xiao Min could not help himself and questioned Chang Suining.

Chang Suining answered softly and honestly: “I wrote it on a whim.”

Xiao Min was stunned. “...Then why an odd number like that?”

“It makes it seem more credible, more striking,” Chang Suining said. “Commander Xiao, you were pondering the same thing, weren’t you?”

Xiao Min was left speechless.

“Suining, is this a lie?” Ah Dian asked in a low voice.

Chang Suining: “When I turn it into fact, it will no longer be a lie.”

Xiao Min: “...”

A strange way to put it.

But just how much confidence did Young Miss Chang truly have in killing Xu Zhengye?

Sixty-odd days — a little over two months — and at present they could not so much as sniff out a trace of Xu Zhengye.

“Hard to say.” Chang Suining fed an intelligence dispatch she had read into the brazier. “Not yet. But I am already killing him.”

She was cutting away at Xu Zhengye’s name.

First kill the name, then the life becomes easier to take.

Watching the flames swallow the paper, Chang Suining’s eyes passed over the roads of Jiangnan filled with those endless lines of refugees, all full of grief and despair. She murmured: “I will have every circuit of Jiangnan, even the whole of Da Sheng, counting down his final days.”

Xiao Min glanced instinctively at Chang Kuo; he feared that such reckless measures would ruin the hard-won renown they had fought for.

Chang Kuo’s face, however, was even more resolute: “So many mouths counting his death — perhaps even the Lord of Death is alarmed. This man is already half dead from the shadow that clings to him; we need hardly lay a hand to finish him off!”

Xiao Min: “...!”

He trusted the general and the young lady, but at times, hearing such talk, he felt helpless alone.

Chang Kuo, noticing his concern, asked: “Commander Xiao, can you still hold the line?”

Xiao Min put on a steady face and lowered his voice: “The court presses repeatedly for the dispatch of troops...”

Chang Kuo, knowing his difficulty, offered a way to absolve him: “Just send word to the capital that everything is my old Chang’s arrangement — complain and groan as much as you please.”

Xiao Min sighed: “But then the court and the Holy One will surely hold you to account...”

“No matter.” Chang Suining said. “Once we have Xu Zhengye’s head, they will all hush themselves.”

Chang Kuo laughed heartily: “Exactly so!”

Who better than he to relish the comfort of a lord who will cover one’s back?

...

At the same moment, far to the north, Cui Jing also read that proclamation.

Before the piece had fully circulated, Yuan Xiang had already sent a swift-mounted courier to the northern territories.

“So... is this a provocation?” Cui Jing murmured, as if to himself; the usual calm between his brows now held a trace of worry.

Good night!