After Qu Detao returned from the Northern Border administrative headquarters to his temporary study, he immediately ordered his men to bring him all the files related to Wei Chongwu’s “taking twelve heads.”
He sat upright in the huanghuali wooden chair, his expression giving nothing away, but inwardly he was already sneering repeatedly.
Qu Detao had spent decades navigating the officialdom of the capital. What kind of schemes and political tricks had he not seen?
Prince Su and Pei Yi had played off each other and put on quite a show. In the end, they simply wanted to make an issue out of the matter.
With the army about to set out, Prince Su found this imperial inspector sent by the Emperor too much of a hindrance. Since he kept watching the grain supplies and troop movements every day, Prince Su had deliberately thrown out a case of the “Right Army Commandant falsely claiming military merit” to tie him down.
A mere commandant falsely claiming credit for taking twelve enemy heads.
A case like this, if it were handled by the Three Judicial Offices in the capital, would not even qualify to reach his desk as Censor-in-Chief.
Checking the camp records, verifying the documents for the inspection of the heads, interrogating the people involved—he could complete this entire procedure with his eyes closed. At most, the case would be settled in half a day.
Even if the case were real, even if Wei Chongwu had truly killed civilians and falsely claimed military merit, or bought a few heads to pass off as his own kills, so what?
Did they really think such despicable methods could trap him in a pile of files?
Prince Su was underestimating him far too much.
He would investigate this case down to the very bottom within a single day, then slam the ironclad evidence down in front of Prince Su.
He would make them understand that the Emperor’s censor was not a chess piece they could manipulate however they pleased.
Several ledgers were piled on the desk: the camp departure register, the marching route map, the battle report from that day, the list of participating soldiers, the military merit register, the head verification records, and the Ministry of War documents approving promotions.
Qu Detao opened the files, his initial expression carrying a hint of careless disdain.
All the documents and procedures were complete. The seals were correct. The verification records for the heads clearly stated that they bore the distinctive hairstyles and characteristics of the Beidi people.
Judging from the paperwork alone, this was a flawless military achievement.
“Heh. They certainly made it cleanly.”
Qu Detao gave a cold snort.
But he was, after all, an old censor who had investigated cases his entire life.
Years of experience and an almost instinctive sharpness told him that the more flawless a set of files appeared, the bigger the hole hidden behind them often was.
He picked up the marching route map from that day and compared it with the mission record for the Right Army in the camp departure register.
His gaze remained on the paper for a moment, and his brows slowly furrowed.
…Something was wrong.
The camp departure register recorded that the Right Army of the Western Camp had been ordered to patrol the southern supply line that day, with its marching route and timing clearly documented.
According to this route, they had never entered the battle zone mentioned in the battle report.
More importantly, if Beidi mounted cavalry really had infiltrated the southern grain route, then the other sentry cavalry, beacon towers, and patrol cavalry responsible for guarding the surrounding area should have had records of it as well.
But there were none in the relevant files.
There were no traces of battle, no records of other units providing support, and not even reports of enemy activity from the nearby beacon towers.
The only battle report recording “twelve heads taken” was Wei Chongwu’s.
Yet the seals on the head verification records were correct.
There really were twelve Beidi heads.
So… was there a problem with the source of those twelve heads?
Buying enemy heads was not something that had never happened before.
Qu Detao’s eyes gradually sharpened.
This was not merely a matter of “stealing military credit.”
This was falsifying a battle report.
He immediately pulled out the list of participating soldiers.
If the battle report was fake, then this list absolutely could not withstand scrutiny.
His gaze swept line by line over the thirty-odd names of those who had followed Wei Chongwu into battle and received reward silver.
Relying on the astonishing memory he had developed over the past few days while reviewing the basic rosters of the various camps at the headquarters, his eyes stopped on several names.
“Right Army infantryman, Zhao Tieniu.”
Qu Detao remembered very clearly that when he had reviewed the military physician’s medical records yesterday, this Zhao Tieniu had been suffering from severe diarrhea. During that period, he had been unable even to get out of bed.
How could he possibly have put on armor and gone into battle?
He continued reading downward, until his gaze finally locked onto a name—
“Sun Wang.”
After a moment of silence, he reached out and pulled another register from the pile.
It was the roster of military households whose soldiers had died in battle or from illness.
Relying on his memory, he flipped to the third page.
And saw—
【Sun Wang. Right Army archer and crossbowman. Died of illness.】
Qu Detao’s finger stopped on that line.
Only after a long while did he say in a low voice, “…Even the dead can receive military merit?”
A few days ago, while checking the list of soldiers who had died in battle or from illness for purposes of compensation, he had already seen the name “Sun Wang,” which was why he remembered it.
This man had died in the camp three months ago after contracting a severe cold.
A man who had been dead for three months had not only come back to life, but had also accompanied Wei Chongwu out of camp to patrol the supply route—and had even received a share of the reward silver for taking Beidi heads?!
The study fell into deathly silence.
Sitting behind the desk, Qu Detao felt a chill slowly crawl from his spine to the back of his head.
Following it came that long-lost excitement and fury unique to a censor investigating a case—the kind of excitement that could seal a person’s throat with a single drop of blood.
His fingers tapped twice against the desk.
He had thought this was merely some boring little case Prince Su had thrown at him to tie him down.
He had never expected to accidentally uncover another case hidden within the case.
This… could it be a coincidence?
But the mind he had honed through years of investigations could not help but continue thinking:
If a dead man was still alive on the list of participating soldiers, then… was this dead man also still alive on the military registers of the Imperial Army?
If he was still alive on the military register, then who was collecting his monthly military pay?
Qu Detao slowly closed the files, a terrifying gleam flashing in his eyes.
At first, he had thought this was merely the surface of a commandant greedily and falsely claiming military merit.
But now, he had torn open a corner of that surface, and what was exposed beneath it was shocking, rotten flesh.
He hesitated.
Should he continue investigating?
Or should he stop?
Qu Detao remained silent for a long time.
Of course, he knew that if he continued investigating this matter, it would absolutely not remain a problem belonging to Wei Chongwu alone.
Military registers, military pay, compensation—if something was wrong in any one of these links, dozens or even hundreds of people in the camp could become implicated.
And if he continued further, he might even touch the commanders of the Western Camp.
He had no idea how many dark and unspeakable monsters within the Imperial Army were entangled in this.
And who stood behind the Western Camp, he knew better than anyone.
But he merely gave a cold laugh.
Since the case had already fallen into his hands, there was no reason to stop halfway.
The deeper he investigated, the more people would hate him.
But if he knew the files were fake and deliberately pretended to be deaf and blind—
Then when something went wrong in the future, he would be the first person held accountable.
He had no way out.
Qu Detao closed the files.
“Someone.”
A voice immediately answered from outside the door.
“Bring me the Western Camp’s military registers, payroll ledgers, death-from-illness registers, and compensation records. Bring all of them. Not a single book is to be missing.”
This time, he did not intend to leave even half a day for himself.
◆◇◆◇◆
The afternoon sunlight passed through the window lattice, falling in mottled patches across the floor of the guest room in the South Courtyard.
When Xiao opened his eyes, his consciousness was sluggish for an instant.
This body was simply far too exhausted. After days of high-intensity infiltration and the final life-and-death escape, even a soul that had experienced countless brushes with death felt a wave of weakness.
But he quickly became completely awake because he smelled a familiar, faint fragrance.
When he turned his head, Xia Lanshi was still lying with his eyes closed, not yet awake.
The feeling of opening his eyes and immediately seeing his lover right beside him made him feel incomparably at ease.
His gaze quietly and affectionately traced the contours of the other man’s face. He could not bear to wake him.
But perhaps his gaze was too unrestrained. Before long, Xia Lanshi woke as well.
“…Awake?”
Xia Lanshi’s voice was somewhat hoarse. He reached out and gently touched Xiao’s forehead, checking whether he had a fever.
“Mm.”
Xiao answered softly. He leaned over and placed a light kiss on Xia Lanshi’s forehead before bracing himself and sitting up.
He walked straight to the cabinet, took out a clean crimson round-collared robe, and put it on. Then he hung the little sachet Xia Lanshi had given him at his waist.
Xia Lanshi watched his movements.
He knew Xiao was using his actions to show that he had recovered.
After tidying himself up, Xiao turned and walked to the bedside.
Seeing Xia Lanshi’s slightly disheveled snow-white hair and somewhat wrinkled clothes, he naturally reached out. His fingertips gently combed through that snow-like long hair, then carefully straightened his appearance.
Xia Lanshi quietly let him do as he pleased.
Only when Xiao straightened up did he take out the handkerchief embroidered with Xiao and a Beichang-tailed tit and hand it back to him.
“Return to its rightful owner.”
Xia Lanshi smiled faintly.
Xiao accepted the handkerchief. It still carried Xia Lanshi’s body heat and faint fragrance.
He carefully tucked it into his robe, close against his heart.
“Let’s go.”
Xiao said it softly.
He knew very clearly that what awaited them next was a huge net.
One wrong step could very likely make him lose everything.
Seeing the gravity that inadvertently surfaced in Xiao’s eyes, Xia Lanshi faintly sensed that the situation was even less optimistic than they had anticipated.
Variables were still appearing one after another.
◆◇◆◇◆
In the main courtyard study that afternoon.
The doors and windows were tightly shut. Personal guards and covert guards surrounded the place in layers, so thoroughly that not even a mosquito or fly could get inside.
Inside the study, the atmosphere was so heavy it was difficult to breathe.
Xiao Yuan sat in the seat of honor, his expression solemn.
Su Muchen sat beside him, setting up the printer.
Pei Yi, Chi Banyue, Xia Lanshi, and Xiao took their seats one after another.
They sat upright, their expressions solemn.
The desk in the study had already been cleared.
“Xiao, you can start.”
Su Muchen said it.
Xiao immediately opened the program on his phone and pressed the print button.
“This thing… can directly draw a military map?”
Chi Banyue’s eyes were filled with curiosity as she watched the strange machine making bizarre noises while frantically spitting out sheets of paper.
Even though she had gradually witnessed many wonders of modern technology, seeing the machine print out sheets of colored paper filled with precise lines within only a few seconds still gave her a powerful visual shock.
“More precisely, it prints out the reconnaissance data stored in the phone.”
Xiao stared at the printer without looking away and answered without turning his head.
Chi Banyue fell silent, and a trace of complexity appeared in her gaze toward Xiao.
She had thought that Tingxue Pavilion’s intelligence network was already the best in all of Dasheng.
But in the face of this absolute technological advantage, it appeared somewhat powerless.
Very soon, dozens of A4 sheets had been printed.
Xiao expressionlessly picked up the papers, as though he were playing some ancient puzzle. He swiftly began piecing them together across the empty long table.
His movements were crisp and fast, clearly because he had already burned all these maps into his mind.
In less than a moment, three enormous modern, highly precise military maps, assembled from dozens of sheets of paper, appeared before everyone.
Xiao had deliberately printed three different types of maps to ensure that everyone could understand them.
The first was a military map.
It marked out cities, roads, rivers, villages, camps, granaries, bridges, and suspicious military facilities.
The simplest blocks of color and clear lines were used to mark everything.
The second was an elevation topographic map.
It marked ridgelines, valleys, cliffs, river valleys, mountain passes, slopes, and passable areas.
This map had been synthesized from Xiaoqi’s high-precision radar scans. The direction of the mountain ridges, the depth of the valleys, the steepness of the cliffs, passable river valleys, impassable areas, and natural mountain passes were all immediately apparent.
Pei Yi’s eyes went wide when he saw this map.
As a military commander, he understood far too well what terrain meant.
This map was a hundred times more precise than even the most detailed military map produced by Dasheng’s Ministry of War.
The third—and most important—was the troop strength and logistics flow analysis map.
Different lines and colors represented different types of movement.
Yellow lines represented grain and provisions.
Black lines represented troop movements.
Blue lines represented water transport.
But the most glaring feature was that deep-red line marked by the AI’s analysis as a highly credible anomalous transportation route.
That red line silently and firmly connected Duanyun Fort, Baishui Pass, and Yanqi Ferry.
“This is the kind of map you showed me before?”
Xiao Yuan braced both hands against the edge of the table, staring at this military map filled with a modern industrial quality that was completely different from Dasheng’s old map from twenty-five years ago. His voice was low as he asked.
“Similar. But not exactly the same.”
Su Muchen answered from the side.
Xiao Yuan reached out and slowly pressed his hand against the paper, as though touching the skeleton of that wasteland.
He was not particularly shocked. Instead, with an extreme calmness, he began furiously calculating and comparing everything in his mind.
Pei Yi, Xia Lanshi, and Chi Banyue were seeing a map of this level of precision for the first time.
“…It even shows the direction of the mountain ridges?”
Pei Yi’s finger pointed toward the continuous mountain range surrounding Baishui Pass on the map, his voice full of disbelief.
As the commander guarding the Northern Border, he knew better than anyone how many scouts’ lives and how much time would be required to draw a military map that marked every single mountain ridge.
For the past few months, they had been feeling their way through the darkness.
And Xiao had illuminated the true skeleton of Beidi in only three days.
“It wasn’t drawn by a person.”
Xiao said indifferently.
“Then who drew it?”
Chi Banyue asked curiously.
“AI.”
Xiao calmly uttered a term they heard from time to time but could not understand.
Chi Banyue silently rolled her eyes inwardly.
She still was not used to Xiao becoming like a weapon with its emotions severed the moment he entered military mode.
It was difficult to associate this person with the one who was attached to Xia Lanshi all day long.
Xia Lanshi slightly raised his eyes. He was deeply interested in this term.
When Xiao spoke with Su Muchen, the word occasionally slipped out, but they had never explained it, as though this thing was as natural a presence to them as breathing.
Seeing their confusion, Su Muchen explained:
“You can think of AI… in other words, artificial intelligence, as an apprentice without flesh and blood.”
Xia Lanshi raised his brows slightly.
Su Muchen continued, “An apprentice who has read tens of thousands of books or more and memorized all the knowledge he can find. But he has never personally seen the things themselves.”
“Then wouldn’t that be an armchair strategist?”
Pei Yi said.
“Exactly.”
Su Muchen nodded. “An apprentice who only memorizes books really would be an armchair strategist. But this apprentice is different—he won’t forget, he won’t get tired, he won’t betray you, and he won’t become confused because he has read too much. In the blink of an eye, he compares and cross-references things and finds connections. You ask him, ‘Where is this mountain located?’ He doesn’t need to flip through a book. He has already compared more than a dozen different records in his mind at the same time and then gives you the most likely answer.”
“Like having several hundred clerks working for him simultaneously inside his mind?”
Xia Lanshi asked.
“More or less.”
Su Muchen said, “The difference is that those clerks don’t get tired and don’t make mistakes—as long as the books they read are correct.”
Xia Lanshi lowered his eyes and thought for a moment.
“Then rather than calling it an apprentice, it would be more accurate to call it… a living archive capable of reading, comparing, and deducing things on its own.”
Su Muchen said, “And that’s not all. It can also learn from the things you have done. The more experience you give it, the better it becomes at guessing what you want next. This is called ‘training,’ just like how you train new recruits.”
“So it is alive?”
Chi Banyue asked.
“It’s not alive.”
Su Muchen shook his head. “It doesn’t have its own emotions, fears, or desires. It simply does what it was designed to do. It processes information faster and more accurately than humans. You call it, and it answers. You don’t call it, and it quietly stays there. Like a lamp that will never extinguish itself.”
Xiao Yuan was silent for a moment before saying quietly, “A lamp, yet it can see places that people cannot.”
“Exactly.”
Su Muchen said, “It takes humanity’s most powerful skills and knowledge, puts them into a machine that cannot die, and allows that machine to complete in an instant work that would take humans years to accomplish.”
“It’s faster than humans, but ultimately it’s only an auxiliary tool.”
Xiao calmly added from the side, “You cannot completely trust or depend on it. AI can also make mistakes. Ultimately, decisions and judgments still have to be made by people themselves. What’s more, there is no internet on the Dasheng side, and the equipment is restricted, so it cannot display its original capabilities.”
Whether it was the Xiaoqi in his hands or the phones and AI developed by the group, countless functions had been locked because of the restrictions imposed by the Gate. Their precision was not as high as that of the equipment used in their original world.
Pei Yi did not continue paying attention to the discussion about artificial intelligence. His gaze had already been firmly locked onto the military details on the map.
He stared at the marked roads, traces of grain carts, river locations, and the new arrangement between the three military strongholds.
His years of experience guarding the Northern Border caused his originally calm state of mind to suddenly feel as though something had struck it with tremendous force.
“Wait.”
Pei Yi suddenly spoke, his voice tense.
He pointed to Duanyun Fort on the map, then to Baishui Pass, and finally to Yanqi Ferry.
He said, “The distance between these three places… they look far too close on the map.”
Everyone instantly fell silent.
Pei Yi was the general with the richest practical combat experience on the Northern Border. At a glance, he saw the truth hidden beneath the modern precision of the map.
On Dasheng’s old, weathered maps, these three locations appeared scattered across the Beidi wasteland, requiring several days of travel between them.
But after the AI reconstructed the terrain, roads, wagon tracks, and river routes, Pei Yi suddenly discovered that according to Beidi’s current network of highways and waterways, there was no such thing as these three places being “isolated.”
“Pincer formation.”
Xia Lanshi immediately spoke. He had seen it too, and his voice was frighteningly cold.
“It proves our earlier speculation was not far off. The three lost territories are absolutely not three independent strongholds. Once these military maps are pieced together, the three military strongholds have already formed a mutually supporting pincer formation.”
His fingertip traced a triangle across the map.
“On the surface, they stand separately. In reality, they function as one. Duanyun Fort stores grain, Baishui Pass controls the route, and Yanqi Ferry transports troops. They support one another, advancing and retreating as one.”
The study fell into a brief dead silence.
Xiao Yuan stared at the map, the darkness in his eyes growing increasingly deep.
After everyone had somewhat digested the impact brought by these maps, Xiao finally stood and walked to the map, beginning to explain one by one the specific intelligence gathered during those three days of reconnaissance.
Xiao pointed to the location of Duanyun Fort.
“The heart.”
His voice calmly shattered everyone’s assumptions.
“The previous intelligence was correct. This is the supply center. But there is one enormous discrepancy… Beidi has newly built a second enormous granary here.”
“A second granary?”
Pei Yi abruptly raised his head.
“The intelligence made no mention of it at all.”
“There is also a secret passage.”
Xiao’s fingertip traced a deep valley behind Duanyun Fort and pointed toward the direction leading straight to the front lines.
“A large number of heavily loaded wagons do not enter through the main gate of Duanyun Fort. Instead, they quietly circle forward along this secret route concealed by vegetation.”
Xia Lanshi’s expression darkened.
If there was a supply center capable of storing half a year’s worth of military provisions and possessing a secret transportation route, then if they launched a frontal assault on Duanyun Fort, they would be slowly exhausted beneath the city walls.
Xiao then turned toward Baishui Pass.
“The shield.”
“The barbican is real. The newly added arrow towers are real. The terrain is real.”
Xiao’s tone contained not the slightest emotion.
“The rumored ‘new mountain road’ is real as well.”
Chi Banyue’s expression relaxed slightly.
At least this showed that their intelligence network was not completely useless.
“But it isn’t the main troop route.”
Xiao pointed at the line and said, “That plank road is extremely narrow.”
“Packhorses can’t pass through it. A large army absolutely cannot travel through it, and transporting supplies is even more impossible. But people can. As long as it is an elite squad that has received specialized training, they may be able to follow this route and reach the side or rear of Baishui Pass.”
Xiao Yuan immediately realized what this meant.
This was not transportation infrastructure.
This was a tactical facility.
It might be a tactical breakthrough point capable of turning the tide of the war.
Finally, Xiao turned toward Yanqi Ferry.
“The pulse.”
“There is no third permanent pontoon bridge.”
He corrected the intelligence.
Chi Banyue frowned.
“Was the intelligence I collected wrong?”
“Not completely.”
Xiao pointed toward the seemingly ordinary assembly area on the riverbank.
“The third one isn’t a bridge. It’s the ability to build a bridge.”
He took out his phone, opened the screenshots from earlier, and displayed the images Xiaoqi had captured: enormous piles of pre-cut wooden planks, iron cables, and spare boats and rafts stacked like mountains.
“They have stockpiled a large amount of temporary bridge material that can be assembled within a short period of time. Beidi can immediately construct a third, or even fourth, transportation route anywhere along the river according to the direction of Dasheng’s attack.”
The atmosphere in the study became so heavy it seemed ready to solidify.
Just then, Xiao delivered the final hammer blow without changing expression.
He pointed toward the third—and final—map.
Everyone fell silent.
Because there was a red transportation line on it.
A crimson-red line, like a highly poisonous snake, had silently emerged.
Xia Lanshi asked, “What is this?”
He stared at the crimson snake-like marking, his gaze as deep as a frozen pool.
“This is the result of integrating the reconnaissance data from the past three days. After the AI repeatedly overlaid and recalculated all the anomalies it found, it determined that there is a highly suspected underground and semi-underground military transportation route.”
Xiao placed his hand on the red line.
“This route makes use of natural cracks in the mountains, ancient mine shafts, and several underground river channels that have already dried up but are still large enough for wagons to pass through. They have been modified into a transportation route. It winds through the mountains and underground, connecting Duanyun Fort, Baishui Pass, and Yanqi Ferry.”
Xiao Yuan looked at the red line, his eyes cold.
He asked, “How accurate is this route?”
He was not doubting Xiao. It was because Xiao himself had said that artificial intelligence could make mistakes.
“The probability is extremely high.”
Xiao explained calmly.
“The AI cross-referenced the wagon tracks that repeatedly appeared over the three days, traces of artificial modification on the mountain fissures, abnormal wear around the entrances to ancient mine shafts, the flow of supplies in various locations, and unusual heat signatures near some underground exits.”
“It didn’t see underground.”
Xiao lightly tapped the red line with his fingertip.
“It merely discovered that every trace on the surface is telling us—there should be something underground.”
His finger lightly touched the map.
“This route doesn’t fit the logic of an ordinary trade road. Ordinary trade roads wouldn’t bypass city gates, avoid the main roads, or repeatedly show wagon tracks at mountain fissures.”
He raised his eyes and looked at Xiao Yuan.
“But armies would.”
This was the most important data Xiao had recovered despite being grazed several times by stray arrows during his escape, abandoning Huiye with his own hands, and taking the risk of jumping from his horse.
This system was different from every version he remembered.
It was the thirty-eighth possibility.
“This route has never existed in any of Dasheng’s military reports or maps.”
Xiao’s voice carried a low heaviness that made even the soul tremble.
“If Beidi transports supplies along this route…”
Xiao raised his head and looked at Xiao Yuan.
“Within one day, grain from Duanyun Fort can reach Baishui Pass directly. The main mounted cavalry force from Yanqi Ferry can appear at the flank or rear of any one of these three locations. The forces at the three locations don’t need any centralized command at all. They are already one.”
The study was utterly silent.
This time, even Xiao Yuan forgot to breathe.
Within one day.
That meant absolute tactical impossibility.
If Dasheng attacked any one of the strongholds, it would simultaneously have to face immediate reinforcements and grain supplies from the other two.
“These things couldn’t have been built within just one or two years.”
Xia Lanshi suddenly spoke. His voice remained cold, but everyone could hear the trace of reason he was desperately forcing himself to maintain.
“The AI estimates that some of the facilities have existed for at least ten years.”
Xiao looked at him, his eyes carrying a hint of cruel clarity.
“The barbican at Baishui Pass—several years. The second granary—built in recent years. The temporary bridge-material assembly area and new troop assembly point at Yanqi Ferry are far too large to have been established temporarily. As for that transportation route… it has existed for a very long time.”
Pei Yi murmured, “More than ten years…”
Xia Lanshi slowly said, “If Beidi began doing all this after taking these three lost territories twenty-five years ago…”
Xiao Yuan’s gaze scraped inch by inch across the three strongholds and that crimson transportation route on the military map like a blade, filled with unparalleled decisiveness.
“Then we thought we were reclaiming lost territory. In reality, we are crashing into a war fortress that has been built up for twenty-five years.”
Once war began, how these three cities communicated with one another, and who coordinated them from the center… this had originally been the first step of their military council.
And now, the answer was clearly laid before them.
They did not need coordination.
They were already one.
Pei Yi also held his breath as he looked at the repaired military map.
The cruel military reality lay before everyone.
They were vastly outnumbered, with scarce resources.
To capture three interconnected military strongholds within three months—strongholds capable of mutually reinforcing one another and assembling all their main forces within a single day—was even more impossible.
Just as everyone fell into deep thought, Chi Banyue, who had been quietly listening all this time, finally spoke.
“Something’s wrong.”
As the Pavilion Master of Tingxue Pavilion and the core of Xiao Yuan’s intelligence network, Chi Banyue had sharply caught a detail that made her shudder.
Beidi taking these three lost territories twenty-five years ago and then developing them, even preparing for war, was normal because they had already intended to attack Dasheng.
Xiao Yuan looked at her, his voice low.
“What?”
“Beidi began unusually purchasing grain, iron materials, arrow shafts, and horse feed more than a month ago. This means they began purchasing large quantities of military supplies at least a month and a half ago.”
During this period, she had been busy outside tracking intelligence and had barely returned to the headquarters.
Through the trade routes of Tingxue Pavilion, Northern Border merchants, herders, grain merchants, and other channels, she had discovered some abnormalities.
Pei Yi could not help frowning when he heard this.
He had guarded the Northern Border for many years and knew Beidi’s normal flow of supplies.
“If they were merely preparing for spring herding, they wouldn’t need this much iron. Much less would they need to increase grain and horse feed at the same time.”
“The intelligence also mentioned that Beidi’s patrol cavalry had suddenly increased recently.”
A cold gleam flashed in Chi Banyue’s eyes.
“And it started three days ago.”
Xiao’s eyelids lifted slightly as he looked toward Chi Banyue.
He told them what he had actually observed during his infiltration into enemy territory this time.
“It’s true. I personally saw that Beidi’s patrol cavalry had increased.”
He spoke as indifferently as though he were describing someone else’s affairs.
“On the second day after I set out, when I passed through ‘First-Line Heaven,’ there was originally only one patrol cavalry unit that would pass through around noon. But at dawn, I encountered two squads of heavily armored Beidi patrol cavalry. They appeared extremely alert, as though they were searching for ‘something.’”
When this information came from Xiao’s mouth, everyone could not help feeling a cold sweat for him.
Xiao had gone deep into enemy territory alone. If he had been discovered by two squads of heavily armored Beidi patrol cavalry, he would have been certain to die.
And when Xia Lanshi heard this, another possibility arose in his heart.
Pei Yi keenly caught a trace of something unusual.
How had Xiao known the patrol schedule of the Beidi cavalry at First-Line Heaven?
Under normal circumstances, an ordinary scout might not even obtain much useful intelligence after three days, let alone after Beidi had strengthened its patrols.
But no one present seemed to have any doubts about Mr. Liuchu, so he clearly understood that this was not something he should ask about.
Xiao then pointed at the map and continued.
“The troops at Yanqi Ferry are gathering at the eastern bend of the river.”
“The heavily armored patrol cavalry at Baishui Pass patrols at dawn.”
“The secret transportation route at Duanyun Fort is unusually active.”
“These three things all happened during the same period when the Emperor issued the decree to ‘reclaim the lost territories within three months’ and His Highness mobilized troops to move secretly north.”
Xia Lanshi’s voice was cold enough to freeze.
“If they were merely making normal preparations for war, the timing would not be this perfect.”
He looked toward Xiao Yuan.
“They began purchasing large quantities of military supplies more than a month ago… and Qu Detao also left the capital around that same time.”
Qu Detao had deliberately concealed his movements when he came to Linbei City, arriving quietly and discreetly.
They had only obtained this timing information later, after Qu Detao had already arrived.
Chi Banyue nodded.
“The difference is less than a few days.”
“It’s not a coincidence.”
Xia Lanshi said, “But it still cannot prove that the confidential imperial decree itself was leaked.”
“Then at the very least, it proves one thing.”
Chi Banyue raised her eyes to look at everyone.
“Before we officially sent out our troops, Beidi already knew that Dasheng was going to mobilize its forces.”
The words caused the study to fall instantly silent.
Su Muchen was stunned as well.
Everything was moving in a direction unfavorable to them.
A thought flashed through his mind.
Could it be that even Xiao, who had experienced multiple “lifetimes,” had failed this time? How many times had he perhaps fallen in this very war?
If that were really the case… did they truly have a way to get through it this time?
He knew very clearly that some things could not simply be “started over” again and again.
If they failed again, he himself would not develop psychological trauma or pressure because he had no memories.
But Xiao was different.
Xiao Yuan’s hand braced against the edge of the desk, his knuckles turning slightly white from the force.
Dark killing intent churned in his eyes, deep as night, but it quickly condensed into absolute calm.
For a long time, he stared at those newly explored areas on the map, where the killing intent of tens of thousands of enemy soldiers was concealed.
The butterfly’s wings had already, on this most critical strategic defensive line, stirred up a completely overturned future of death.
After a long while, he slowly straightened up.
His gaze swept across everyone, his voice cold and clear.
“So, how much of the confidential decree has actually been leaked?”
Today’s meeting had already changed from “verifying intelligence”
to “the war has already been rewritten in advance.”
Everyone realized that the enemy might be waiting for them to enter the trap.
Chi Banyue looked at Xiao Yuan, her expression grave.
“At present, there are only three levels of intelligence we can confirm.”
“First level: the Northern Border will send out troops. This may already have been leaked.”
“Second level: the three lost territories are the targets. This has very likely been leaked.”
“Third level: which one His Highness will attack, and when. At present, we cannot confirm that.”
Xia Lanshi added, “At present, we can only know that there must be a Beidi informant in the capital, or perhaps… a traitor who has sold out the country.”
He continued, “The most dangerous thing is not that they know we are going to attack. It is that they do not know where we will attack from, so they are preparing to let us choose for ourselves. The moment we choose the first target…”
His voice was as cold as if it had been tempered in ice.
“They will be able to turn the battlefield into exactly what they want in advance.”
“The moment we choose the first city,” Xiao Yuan picked up his words, “is the moment the enemy truly begins making its move.”
Pei Yi’s brows drew tightly together.
“If it is a confidential imperial decree, apart from His Majesty and Qu Detao, there shouldn’t be many people who know about it.”
“Given Qu Detao’s way of doing things, he would not leak the contents of the confidential decree.”
Xia Lanshi knew what Pei Yi wanted to say, but the leaker did not necessarily have to be Qu Detao.
Moreover, leaking military intelligence was equivalent to treason, an extremely serious crime. Once discovered, it meant certain death.
A single person’s crime could even make their entire family pay a terrible price.
And the Emperor could not possibly let too many people know the contents of the confidential decree.
He wanted Prince Su dead, not Dasheng dead.
They were not completely without clues right now.
What they lacked was time.
If they used the fact that “military intelligence had already been leaked” to ask the Emperor for an extension of the three-month deadline, they would certainly be refused, because that would play directly into the Emperor’s hands.
The Emperor could simply wait until Prince Su was dead, then send people and troops to the Northern Border to take over what came afterward.
After a long silence, Xiao Yuan raised his head, his gaze sweeping across everyone as he delivered his final conclusion:
“Since Beidi already knew that we intended to reclaim the lost territories, then these three military strongholds… are not places where we decide when to attack. Beidi is waiting for us to choose where to attack.”
He turned to Xia Lanshi, his voice low and decisive.
“Chief Secretary Xia, if the confidential decree has already been leaked, how much chance of victory do we have if we launch a frontal assault against this war system Beidi has solidly built up over twenty-five years?”
Xia Lanshi remained silent for a long time before finally giving a pale smile.
“Three choices.”
“First: stop reclaiming the lost territories.”
Xia Lanshi said calmly, “But that is rejected. Because it would mean handing complete initiative to the enemy and once again surrendering Dasheng’s Northern Border.”
Even if they did not take the initiative to attack, judging from the preparations Beidi had already begun making, it was only a matter of time before they directly attacked them.
“Second: launch a frontal assault on Baishui Pass, Duanyun Fort, and Yanqi Ferry.”
“Impossible.”
Pei Yi added his judgment as a military commander.
“Eighteen thousand men wouldn’t even be enough to fill the gaps between their teeth, much less capture three mutually reinforcing military strongholds within three months—strongholds capable of gathering all their main forces within a single day.”
“So, we are left with only the third choice.”
Xia Lanshi raised his hand. That fair hand, untouched by even the slightest stain, now carried an unprecedented decisiveness.
—“Change the objective of the war.”
Xia Lanshi’s fingertip landed on that crimson transportation route.
Without even raising his head, he continued:
“What we originally intended to do was reclaim three military strongholds.”
“Now it is different.”
His tone was cold and certain.
“What we truly need to do is dismantle the war system Beidi has solidly built over the past twenty-five years.”
“The shield, the heart, the pulse…”
Xiao Yuan looked at the military map again, his gaze precisely locking onto that crimson poisonous snake hidden beneath the mountains and underground river channels.
Xia Lanshi also stared at the red line.
“Since the three function as one… then attacking the cities is precisely what they most want us to do.”
Xiao Yuan raised his eyes.
Their gazes met in midair.
There was no longer any hesitation or uncertainty in Xiao Yuan’s eyes, only the purest and most absolute decisiveness.
He raised his head, his gaze sweeping across everyone.
Slowly, the corners of his lips curved upward.
His voice was low and murderous, carrying an unquestionable force:
“Since they are waiting for this prince to attack the city—then this prince will not attack the city.”