Cold rain pattered steadily outside, tapping rhythmically against the lattice windows of the study in the main courtyard.
At the center of the study, an enormous military map of the Northern Frontier lay spread across a long table. Baishui Pass, Duanyun Fortress, Yanqi Crossing, and the vast stretches of borderland now controlled by the Northern Di were all circled in heavy vermilion ink, their marks glaring and oppressive.
Xiao Yuan stood before the map, with Pei Yi, Xia Lanshi, Su Muchen, and Xiao lined up beside him.
Standing to one side of the group was Qin Feng, the garrison commander of Hanchuan, who had arrived in Linbei City that very day.
Not long ago, Qin Feng had still been in Hanchuan.
After receiving a secret order from the Prince Su’s residence, he had not waited for the usual transfer directive. Instead, he had immediately sent back a confidential letter:
The Northern Frontier’s lost territories remain unrecovered. This subordinate is willing to proceed to the front lines and await Your Highness’s orders.
At the time, Xiao Yuan had replied with just one word.
Approved.
Upon receiving the reply, Qin Feng had not hesitated for a moment. He immediately handed Hanchuan’s routine defense duties to his deputy, then personally led his own guards north through the night.
Now, as he stood in the military council chamber, his broad shoulders still bore the dust of the road and traces of cold rain that had yet to dry. Yet there was not the slightest hint of fatigue in his bright, piercing eyes.
Xiao Yuan withdrew his gaze from the map and spoke in a low voice.
“Everyone is here.”
Xia Lanshi stepped forward and placed a thick military register on the table.
His tone was measured but incisive. “Your Highness nominally commands thirty thousand troops in the Northern Frontier. But those thirty thousand have never been an army that can be gathered into a single, clenched fist.”
He tapped the register lightly with his fingertip and broke down the numbers one by one.
“Three thousand personal guards of Prince Su, four thousand defenders of Linbei City, six thousand Hanchuan Guards, four thousand Linzhou Guards, two thousand Heguan Guards, three thousand scattered soldiers from the smaller garrisons, and another eight thousand soldiers from the Capital Army personally assigned by His Majesty. Different garrisons, different commanders, different orders, different weapons and equipment—and, perhaps, even different masters to whom they owe their loyalty.”
The atmosphere in the study immediately grew heavy.
Qin Feng spoke in a deep voice. “Soldiers who don’t know their commanders, commanders who don’t know their soldiers. This has been an entrenched problem with the Northern Frontier garrisons for decades.”
“Precisely.”
Xia Lanshi smiled faintly.
“But in the past, we couldn’t touch it. If Your Highness had begun dismantling the old structure and reorganizing the troops on a large scale immediately upon arriving in the Northern Frontier, how would the man in the capital have interpreted that?”
Pei Yi gave a cold snort. “He would have concluded that Your Highness was consolidating military power and plotting to establish an independent regime.”
“Not merely suspected it. He would have treated it as an established crime.” Xia Lanshi turned to Xiao Yuan.
“So, until now, we could only let each garrison manage its own affairs and maintain the status quo on the surface. That was sufficient for handling border skirmishes, but the battles ahead cannot be fought this way.”
Xiao Yuan spoke calmly, his finger tracing several defensive lines on the map.
“Things are different now. The emperor himself has issued an edict, giving this prince three months to recover the three lost territories.”
He raised his eyes, his gaze sharp.
“Since we are going to war, reorganizing the military structure during wartime is an entirely legitimate duty of the commander-in-chief.”
The corners of Xia Lanshi’s mouth lifted slightly, his tone carrying a deeper meaning.
“His Majesty wants the lost territories recovered. As long as our paperwork stands up to scrutiny, how we deploy troops and restructure the army during wartime falls within the commander-in-chief’s authority. These three months are a Shangfang Sword that His Majesty has personally placed in Your Highness’s hands. He simply may not yet realize that once this sword comes down, it might not be possible to take it back.”
As he spoke, he picked up a vermilion brush and wrote a line in bold, forceful strokes at the top of another blank military order.
—Wartime Military Reorganization of the Northern Frontier.
As the brush fell, the entire chamber fell silent.
Looking at those words, Su Muchen understood immediately.
Previously, Xiao Yuan’s troops had been scattered among the various garrisons and the Capital Army, like steel blades strewn across the ground.
Now, the death sentence personally handed down by the emperor had instead become the perfect shield behind which Xiao Yuan could gather those scattered blades and forge them anew into a single, formidable weapon.
Xia Lanshi opened a structural plan he had prepared in advance and moved on to the first step.
“First, we need to establish exactly what assets we have in hand.”
He wrote several figures on the paper.
“Your Highness, the total strength on paper is thirty thousand. The eight thousand Capital Army soldiers cannot be included in the core combat force. Local defense duties, city garrisons, granaries, passes, armories, and similar facilities require approximately four to five thousand men.”
Xia Lanshi raised his head, his eyes shining.
“However, a considerable portion of the four to five thousand men who previously had to remain behind has now been replaced by grain-escort troops and reserve soldiers gradually transferred from Hanzhou, Linzhou, and other areas. We have been steadily freeing up elite Northern Frontier troops who were previously locked into city defenses and grain routes.”
He clearly listed the figures after the restructuring.
“Therefore, of the thirty thousand troops on paper, after excluding the eight thousand Capital Army soldiers whom we cannot fully trust, approximately twenty-four thousand can genuinely be incorporated into the wartime deployable force. Of those, around twenty thousand can actually leave the rear and be committed to the theater of operations.”
Qin Feng and Pei Yi listened with solemn expressions.
Only by stripping away the layers of inflated figures could they obtain an honest assessment of the situation.
Pei Yi stared at the two figures for a moment before suddenly asking, “Twenty thousand men might look impressive written in a register. But what happens when we actually take them onto the battlefield?”
He raised his head, his expression darkening.
“The Hanchuan Guards, Linzhou Guards, and Heguan Guards all follow their own training methods. When we get to the battlefield, if the Hanchuan Guards lead the left wing today and the Linzhou Guards take over the fighting tomorrow, who will understand whose commands? Who will recognize whose banners?”
Xia Lanshi glanced at him. “Which is precisely why we need to reorganize them.”
Pei Yi did not smile.
“I know that.”
He jabbed a finger hard at the map.
“What I’m asking is something else—are seven days enough?”
The study fell silent.
“Within seven days, we have to make twenty thousand men recognize their banners, understand their orders, and know their commanders. We also have to grind the different training methods of the old garrisons into a unified system. If all we do is move the men into the same place, that isn’t reorganization. It’s just stuffing a bunch of strangers into one military camp.”
Xia Lanshi’s eyes shifted slightly. “Then what does General Pei propose?”
“Organize first, train afterward,” Pei Yi replied.
“We can officially establish the nine divisions today, but for the first three days, there will be no fighting. We’ll drill military commands, banner recognition, changing defensive positions, and assembly. For the next four days, we’ll take them out for field exercises so they learn who is beside them and where they belong.”
“After seven days, we must achieve at least this much—”
He raised his hand and held up two fingers.
“At one command, two armies must be able to move. At two commands, three armies must be able to change positions. Otherwise, these twenty thousand men will be nothing more than twenty thousand people who know how to wield a blade.”
Qin Feng nodded upon hearing this.
That was one of the reasons he had hurried here. Many soldiers who had once fought alongside him were now stationed in this region. With a major Northern Frontier war imminent, he could not remain in the rear.
“Then that brings us to the second matter.”
Xia Lanshi turned to the structural plan he had prepared.
“Establish nine wartime divisions without altering the original garrison registers.”
Qin Feng raised his eyebrows. “Nine divisions established separately?”
“The military registers remain unchanged, and the commanders’ positions remain undisturbed. Only the chain of command during wartime will be reorganized.”
Xia Lanshi pointed to the plan, where the responsibilities were clearly divided.
“In peacetime, each garrison continues defending its own territory and carrying out its existing duties. If the imperial court conducts an inspection, the Northern Frontier Army will still appear exactly as it always has. But during wartime, the entire force will be organized into nine major command formations: the Central Army, Left Army, Right Army, Vanguard, Cavalry Scouts, Logistics, City Defense, Special Operations, and Reserves.”
Pei Yi leaned over the plan.
“You mean the Hanchuan Guards and Linzhou Guards will retain their original military registrations, but their soldiers will be assigned to different divisions according to operational needs?”
“Exactly,” Xia Lanshi said. “The nine divisions are nine wartime command formations. A soldier may still belong to the Hanchuan Guards in peacetime, be assigned to the Right Army during a campaign, and return to the Hanchuan Guards afterward.
“The Central Army coordinates the overall operation. The Left and Right Armies conduct the main fighting. The Vanguard launches assaults. The Cavalry Scouts conduct reconnaissance and harassment. Logistics maintains the supply routes. City Defense secures the rear. Special Operations handles specialized military missions, while the Reserves fill gaps and provide troop rotations.
“This way, we avoid giving the capital grounds to accuse us of altering the military structure, while breaking the deadlock of the old garrisons acting independently.”
Qin Feng studied the plan carefully. Admiration appeared in his eyes, and he clasped his fists in acknowledgment.
“This subordinate understands.”
“But we cannot commit all twenty thousand combat troops at once.”
Xiao Yuan settled the matter in a cold, decisive tone.
“After the wartime reorganization, the truly important thing is to divide these twenty thousand men into successive echelons.”
Xiao, who had remained silent beside the map until now, finally spoke.
“This arrangement will work.”
Everyone turned toward him.
Xiao’s finger stopped between the Vanguard and the Cavalry Scouts.
“But there’s one thing we should decide now.”
Xiao Yuan looked at him. “Go on.”
“Don’t let the nine divisions recognize only their own banners.”
Xiao’s tone was even.
“When the battlefield descends into chaos, banners can fall, drums can become confused, and messengers can be killed. When that happens, if each division knows only where it should go but has no idea what the troops beside it are doing, then the nine divisions will still be nothing more than nine separate groups of men.”
Pei Yi’s brow moved slightly.
Xiao continued.
“At the very least, the commanding officers of each division must understand the basic tactical intentions of the two divisions adjacent to them.”
“When the Vanguard should retreat, when the Left Army should take over, and under what circumstances the Cavalry Scouts may bypass the chain of command to raise an alarm directly. We shouldn’t make everything wait for one order after another to be relayed from the Central Army.”
Xia Lanshi considered this. “You mean establishing a system of delegated battlefield authority?”
“More or less,” Xiao replied.
“Where orders cannot reach, the men below must know under what circumstances they can make decisions themselves. Otherwise, if the Central Army falls, the entire army falls with it.”
Xiao Yuan watched him for a moment before finally nodding.
“Approved.”
Xiao withdrew his hand and said nothing more.
“On that point, I recommend that we redefine the status categories of the soldiers.”
Su Muchen pulled over his own data briefing and smoothly took over the discussion.
“I don’t recommend continuing to divide the men into just two simple categories: ‘fit for battle’ and ‘unfit for battle.’ After enduring the winter famine and the epidemic, many soldiers are already severely depleted. If we put men who can barely hold out for half a day in the same category as those who could wield a blade again after two weeks of recovery, we’d be wasting an enormous military resource.”
Xia Lanshi translated his point into military terminology.
“So the military registers remain unchanged, but during wartime, each soldier will be assigned one of four statuses: combat-ready, short-duration combat, awaiting recovery, or recuperating.”
“An army isn’t a fixed number.”
Su Muchen drew a fluctuating curve on the paper and slowly traced it with his fingertip.
“What Your Highness truly needs to know isn’t how many men are listed in the register, but how many people will actually be able to wield a blade at dawn tomorrow. What about the day after? What about seven days from now?
“Having twenty thousand men available for battle today doesn’t mean we’ll still have twenty thousand in seven days. If we don’t control injuries, illness, exhaustion, infection, and blood loss, our troop strength will drain away like leaking water.”
Su Muchen looked at everyone and precisely divided the twenty thousand combat troops into groups.
“The first echelon will consist of approximately ten thousand men, responsible for the initial engagement. The second echelon will have around six thousand, responsible for rotations. The reserves and mobile forces will number approximately four thousand, ready to fill any gaps.
“In this way, the Northern Di will continue to see a force of around twenty thousand men before them, while the actual combat strength we can sustain will be far more substantial than that figure suggests.”
After Su Muchen finished, everyone fell into thought.
Qin Feng’s expression shifted repeatedly. He drew a deep breath.
The last time, he had heard Physician Su’s voice only from behind a screen. It was not until today that he finally understood what sort of person this “Military Advisor Su,” so deeply trusted by Prince Su, really was.
The way Su Muchen precisely dissected the limits of the human body, military deployment, and seemingly hopeless battlefield situations left the veteran commander, who had endured years of hardship in Hanchuan, profoundly shaken.
Xiao, who had remained silent, suddenly spoke.
“What if the first echelon isn’t scattered, but pierced straight through?”
Su Muchen raised his head and looked at him.
Xiao gazed at the map, his expression unchanged.
“Rotation depends on the assumption that the battle line still exists.”
“If the Northern Di concentrate their cavalry and tear a hole straight through our formation, scattering the first echelon, should the second echelon rush to plug that gap, or secure the two flanks first?”
Pei Yi’s expression sharpened.
Qin Feng immediately turned his attention to the map as well.
Xia Lanshi did not answer.
Xiao had already reached out and drawn a short line across the map.
“That’s why the reserves cannot simply be a force that goes wherever men are needed.”
“We need to establish several contingency plans in advance.”
“What happens if the battle line is breached?”
“Who takes command if a general is killed?”
“Who moves first if the Left and Right Armies lose contact?”
“If the Vanguard retreats in a rout, should the troops behind them catch and regroup them, or seal off the breach immediately?”
He withdrew his hand.
“When the battle actually begins, nobody will have time to convene another military council.”
Xia Lanshi slowly nodded.
“Contingency plans,” he said. “We’ll divide the reserve formations into several predetermined response plans for different battlefield situations.”
Xiao said nothing more. He simply lowered his head and looked at the map.
No one knew that he had already witnessed this kind of battlefield far too many times.
Some people had survived.
Others had not.
And there was one thing he understood better than anyone:
The deadliest thing on a battlefield was never the absence of reserves.
It was having reserves in hand, yet not knowing when to deploy them.
Suddenly, Qin Feng stepped forward and clasped his fists with a solemn expression.
“Your Highness!”
His voice was low and resolute.
“I am willing to accept the full wartime reorganization and deployment of all six thousand Hanchuan Guards! But I ask only that Your Highness understand one thing—the veteran soldiers of Hanchuan must not be casually discarded!”
Everyone turned to look at the hard-nosed veteran who had guarded the frontier for years.
Qin Feng gritted his teeth and continued.
“Some still carry old wounds that have yet to heal. Others have been physically broken by the famine. But every time the Northern Di have invaded south, they have stood at the front. They may be unable to serve on the front line. They may need to recuperate or train other soldiers. But they must never be made to feel that the army has abandoned them!”
His words rang out with weight and conviction, revealing the deep protectiveness and pride a veteran frontier commander felt toward the comrades under his command.
“General Qin, you’ve misunderstood.”
Su Muchen looked at him, his voice gentle but utterly earnest.
“We aren’t pushing them out. We’re allowing them to remain on the battlefield in a different capacity.”
Qin Feng paused slightly. “Military Advisor Su, you mean…”
“These veteran soldiers who have survived mountains of corpses on the Northern Frontier are the most precious assets the entire army possesses.”
Su Muchen pointed to the register.
“They know how to set up camp in wasteland, how to identify Northern Di cavalry by reading the wind, how to recognize wolf tracks and disguised scouts, and how to survive when trapped in desperate circumstances. No new recruit has these experiences.”
A brief, solemn silence settled over the military council chamber.
“I’m currently planning a Northern Frontier Military Hospital,” Su Muchen said gently. “It will be a place where soldiers who need long-term recuperation, or who have been left disabled, can recover in peace, gradually undergo training, and eventually return to the army to take on different duties.”
During his observations over the past period, he had discovered that many of the wounded in the military camp outside the city still needed long-term medical care, while others had become permanently disabled and could not recover sufficiently to return to combat.
These men continued to occupy manpower and beds in the existing wounded soldiers’ camp, leaving fewer resources for the newly injured soldiers arriving from the battlefield.
That was why he was planning to find them a better path forward, with proper space and facilities for recuperation.
He continued explaining.
“Let the veteran soldiers whose health has deteriorated teach the new recruits. What they teach them won’t be how to kill, but how to survive the Northern Frontier and make it back alive.”
Standing to one side, Xiao added in his usual flat tone, “General Qin, they won’t be leaving the battlefield.”
Qin Feng turned to look at him.
Xiao met his gaze calmly.
“They’ll simply be changing where they serve. Of the forty-eight men under my command, half of what they know, they learned from the dead.”
Qin Feng’s expression shook with emotion. Then he let out a hearty, unrestrained laugh and nodded firmly.
“Military Advisor Su and Mr. Liuchu have offered truly brilliant insights. This subordinate was being narrow-minded!”
Xiao Yuan immediately picked up his brush and made a mark beside the map.
“Those fit for battle will fight. Those who are injured or ill will recover. Not a single person is to be wasted.”
After dealing with the veteran soldiers of the Northern Frontier, Xia Lanshi turned to the next page of the register, his expression turning cold.
“One final matter: the eight thousand men of the Capital Army.”
Those eight thousand men were undoubtedly a thorn the emperor had lodged in Xiao Yuan’s throat.
“The eight thousand Capital Army soldiers cannot be entrusted with core military duties, but neither can they be left idle.”
Xia Lanshi calmly laid out a plan to isolate their authority.
“Everyone will continue performing routine duties, but their assignments will depend on how much we trust them. Those who are highly reliable will be assigned to patrols within the city and the outer perimeter of the granaries. Those who are neutral will handle city wall repairs and the transportation of weapons and equipment.
“Those with suspicious backgrounds will have no access to military intelligence, core weaponry, grain and provisions records, or frontline communications. They’ll be organized into fixed units and made to keep an eye on one another. All untrustworthy men will be assigned to positions where they cannot influence the overall situation.”
Xiao Yuan gave an almost imperceptible nod.
“Approved. The Capital Army will remain nominally under my command, but it will not be incorporated into the core of the nine wartime divisions. All orders concerning frontline operations will be transmitted according to their levels of authorization. Anyone who makes unauthorized inquiries will be recorded and secretly investigated at once.”
Feeling the fierce fighting spirit burning in everyone’s eyes, Xiao Yuan picked up the finalized wartime military order and surveyed each person before him.
“Pei Yi, you will be appointed commander of the Right Army.”
“Qin Feng, you will be appointed commander of the Left Army.”
“I will personally command the Central Army.”
Xiao Yuan’s voice sounded like ice cracking, carrying an unshakable authority.
“Beginning tomorrow, the entire army will undergo reorganization. The military registers must be reverified within three days, and all nine divisions must be in their assigned positions within seven.”
His tall figure cast an imposing shadow across the candlelight and the darkened map. Every word rang with ironclad resolve.
“From tomorrow onward, whoever commands troops will be responsible for them. Whoever gives an order will bear the consequences.”
“They are no longer pawns handed to me by the emperor.”
“They are soldiers of the Northern Frontier, the blades in my hands.”
“And, above all, they are the people I intend to bring home alive.”
◇◆◇◆◇
Late that night, the imperial study was so quiet that the only sound was the faint crackle of the wick in the lamp on the desk.
Several confidential reports from the Northern Frontier and other regions lay piled upon the imperial desk.
Nearby, Liu Changzhong, the chief eunuch in attendance before the emperor, kept his head lowered and remained silent.
He knew all too well that anything concerning Prince Su was not something one could casually discuss.
Prince Su’s mother had been nothing more than a palace maid. He was the consequence of something the emperor had done while drunk.
Under different circumstances, Xiao Yuan could have been a perfectly safe prince, one without powerful maternal relatives who might threaten the throne.
If Xiao Yuan had been mediocre, the emperor could have forgotten him entirely and settled the matter by granting him the empty title of an idle prince.
But Xiao Yuan had turned out to be far too outstanding.
He was capable in both civil and military affairs, yet never fought or competed for favor.
Worse still, he could command troops, and the soldiers in the army had begun to recognize only him as their master.
When a prince gained the support of civil officials, the emperor could still use factional rivalries to keep him in check.
But the situation was different when a prince won the loyalty of military commanders.
And here was a son of a palace maid who could fight better and command more popular support than princes born to noble consorts.
An eagle without roots was far more dangerous than one with roots.
With a prince who had powerful maternal relatives, at least the emperor could identify where his power came from.
But Xiao Yuan’s power had grown from within himself.
That meant that if Xiao Yuan ever decided to rebel, the emperor would have no leverage with which to restrain him.
The emperor’s brow furrowed slightly as his fingers tapped one of the urgent reports.
He understood this son of his own flesh and blood. Xiao Yuan was absolutely not the sort of person who would sit still and wait for death.
Five times.
That was how many times he had thrown Xiao Yuan into the Northern Frontier.
The first time had been a test.
Under the pretext of giving the prince experience, he had sent Xiao Yuan to the Northern Frontier to see what the young man was capable of.
Xiao Yuan had fallen into an ambush by the Northern Di.
But he had survived.
The second time had been an attempt to suppress him.
When the Northern Di invaded south, the emperor sent Xiao Yuan there under the title of military supervisor. He deliberately made him take over a disastrous situation: insufficient military pay, commanders who refused to obey, and a host of other problems. He wanted Xiao Yuan to understand that he was not qualified to wield military power.
Instead, Xiao Yuan stabilized the situation.
The third time had been an attempt to restrict him.
The emperor realized that Xiao Yuan was growing stronger with every battle, so he deliberately began dismantling his military authority. He withheld sufficient provisions and pay and prohibited him from expanding his forces without permission.
Yet Xiao Yuan continued building his reputation even in adversity.
The fourth time had been an act of exile.
At that time, the Northern Di’s front line had advanced as far as Hanchuan City. The emperor ordered Xiao Yuan to take command there in his capacity as a member of the imperial family.
By then, he had already begun thinking that if the Northern Di killed Xiao Yuan, it would save him the trouble of dealing with his son himself.
Yet Xiao Yuan had not only survived. He had also retaken the Northern Frontier’s foremost military city, which had already been reduced to a deserted ruin.
The emperor began to grow wary.
Xiao Yuan was not being worn down by the Northern Frontier. Instead, he was growing stronger there, again and again.
And this fifth time…
He had wanted to discover whether Xiao Yuan truly harbored the rebellious ambitions he suspected.
The result was that the foremost military city of the Northern Frontier, once reduced to a deserted ruin, had been brought back to life as Linbei City under Xiao Yuan’s command.
He knew that the wolf had truly grown up. It could no longer be allowed to live.
He had personally issued an edict giving Prince Su three months to recover the three Northern Frontier territories that had been occupied for twenty-five years.
This time, it was a genuine death trap.
And for the first time, he had truly decided to have this son die in the Northern Frontier.
The emperor had never genuinely believed Xiao Yuan could accomplish the task.
The three strategic military strongholds had been under Northern Di control for a full twenty-five years. Xiao Yuan had only a small force at his disposal. To take three natural fortresses in three months with so few men was no different from throwing an egg against a rock.
The emperor had originally expected Xiao Yuan to lead his troops to their deaths, or to be driven into such desperation that he would submit a memorial begging forgiveness—or even openly defy the imperial edict.
Liu Changzhong held his breath slightly at the emperor’s side.
He had served the emperor for decades and understood very well that when His Majesty truly hated someone, he never lost his temper.
The calmer he became, the more it meant that the person in question had already been placed in the most dangerous position on the chessboard.
Time passed.
The three-month deadline continued to count down.
Yet the military reports arriving from the Northern Frontier remained strangely calm.
There were reports of troop reorganization, drills, weapons and equipment being reassigned, and grain and provisions being sorted out.
But there was no sign of a large-scale military advance.
There was no movement toward a direct assault on Baishui Pass, no urgent call for reinforcements, and no memorial from Xiao Yuan requesting assistance or begging forgiveness.
Xiao Yuan had not shown the slightest panic at being driven into a desperate corner by the death sentence imposed upon him. Instead, he seemed to have sheathed his blade completely.
Xiao Yuan was not waiting to die.
At least, it did not look that way.
What exactly was he doing?
Reorganizing the army, sorting out grain supplies, auditing accounts, replacing commanders, arranging care for the wounded…
This was not what a man who had received a death order and was about to be driven into a hopeless situation would do.
A deep note of suspicion and unease passed through the emperor’s eyes.
The son he had repeatedly pushed to the brink of death seemed once again to have exceeded his expectations.
He gave a cold snort and reached for another stack of intelligence reports from the Shadow Guards.
The glaring ink recorded rumors quietly spreading through the capital and the Northern Frontier. Some even described, in vivid detail, the secret edict he had issued to Prince Su ordering him to recover the lost territories within three months.
“I issued only one secret edict, and the entire capital already knows about it?”
The emperor spoke under his breath, a murderous glint passing through his eyes.
This leak suggested that someone in the capital had already set their sights on Xiao Yuan and was even fanning the flames, deliberately pushing the current military situation into the open.
The emperor’s gaze remained fixed on the Shadow Guards’ report for a long time.
After a while, he suddenly remembered something else.
“By the way.”
Liu Changzhong raised his eyes slightly.
“I heard that Prince Yi fell into the river?”
The question caught Liu Changzhong off guard for a moment.
Prince Yi, Xiao Ying—the Eighth Prince.
The emperor had many sons, and Prince Yi was neither particularly favored nor particularly neglected.
His maternal family possessed only modest influence, and his temperament was unassuming. He had neither earned any distinguished military achievements nor caused any major disasters. He was the sort of person the emperor would scarcely think to remember.
Liu Changzhong replied in a low voice.
“Reporting to Your Majesty, Prince Yi… did indeed fall into the river last night while cruising on the Xinghan River with a male courtesan.”
He had not been certain whether he ought to mention that detail, but he did not dare conceal anything from the emperor.
The emperor’s fingers stopped tapping the desk.
“How did he fall in?”
He did not ask about the male courtesan. Prince Yi had a long history of reckless behavior, and the emperor had no interest in it.
“According to the report, he was rescued in time by his personal guards and the male courtesan accompanying him. His life is not in danger, but the spring river water was cold at night, and Prince Yi has caught a chill. He is recuperating at his residence. His Highness has not yet reported the incident to the court, but last night he had his guards conduct a preliminary inquiry and record the details.”
“So it wasn’t an accident?”
If he had merely fallen into the river by accident, there would have been no need for an inquiry.
Prince Yi could have avoided making a spectacle of the embarrassing fact that he had fallen into the water while cruising with a male courtesan and then caught a cold.
The emperor’s brow creased almost imperceptibly.
And it had happened at precisely this moment?
He had never cared much about this son of his. At least, that had been the case in the past.
From childhood onward, Xiao Ying had been so inconspicuous that he was almost invisible.
He had no ambition to compete for the throne, showed no signs of forming factions or cultivating private influence, commanded no troops, took no interest in government affairs, and cared only for entertainment.
Someone like that was, in fact, the safest of all.
And that was precisely why this incident stirred an inexplicable unease in the emperor’s heart.
“Has he ever been the target of an assassination attempt?”
“Never.”
“Poisoned?”
“No.”
“Thrown from a horse or fallen into water in some other accident?”
“Neither.”
The emperor slowly leaned back in his chair.
A man who had gone nineteen years without a single accident, and who had scarcely ever attracted anyone’s attention, had suddenly fallen into a river at this critical juncture.
…Coincidence?
He did not believe in coincidences. He believed that every event had a cause.
Why now, of all times?
Had this usually insignificant son been doing something behind his back that the emperor knew nothing about, and had that been what drew someone’s attention to him?
But he did not immediately order a full investigation.
If a prince had fallen into the river by accident, making a great commotion would only alert the people truly hiding in the shadows.
And if it had not been an accident… then whoever had dared to target a prince must already have prepared to cover their tracks.
“Summon the head of the Imperial Medical Academy. Have him take two imperial physicians and go to Prince Yi’s residence immediately to treat him.”
“Your Majesty’s command will be carried out.”
Liu Changzhong understood.
The real purpose of this order was to confirm the extent of Prince Yi’s injuries, determine whether anything was amiss at his residence, and establish whether the fall had been genuine.
The emperor picked up the confidential report again.
But this time, when he looked at the words leak in the capital, the expression in his eyes had changed.
From the moment he issued the edict, one thing had followed another.
First, the secret edict was leaked, and people in the capital began making moves.
Then Prince Yi inexplicably fell into a river.
After that, strange fluctuations appeared along the Northern Frontier’s grain supply routes, and the grain situation at Beiming Port became abnormal.
And when faced with these crises, Xiao Yuan’s first reaction had not been to submit a memorial asking the court for help. Instead, he had issued thunderous orders for all three prefectures of the Northern Frontier to investigate the movement of grain.
The emperor’s fingers tightened slightly.
Xiao Yuan seemed to have sensed something before he had.
And the waters of the capital seemed to run much deeper than he had originally imagined.
What unsettled him most was this:
He did not even know who had made the first move.
Finally, the emperor’s gaze fell upon a separately submitted investigative report.
It concerned the newly appointed military advisor at Prince Su’s residence. Every line was written in the scrupulous yet helpless language of the bureaucracy.
NameName True name unknown. Commonly known as Physician Su.
Householdregistration/officialrecordsHousehold registration / official records None.
Merchantregistration/border−crossingrecordsMerchant registration / border-crossing records None. No record of this individual entering the country could be found in local government offices or at border checkpoints.
OriginsOrigins Publicly claims to be from overseas. Unverifiable.
MedicallineageMedical lineage Claims to belong to the “Guichen Medical School.” A search of all surviving medical texts and regional medical lineage records in Dasheng has yielded no formal mention of it. Suspected to be fabricated.
MedicalpracticesemployedMedical practices employed Some methods have never been encountered before. Previously proposed methods for epidemic control.
MedicinesandequipmentcarriedMedicines and equipment carried The origins of most items cannot be determined. Northern Frontier military physicians have never seen them before.
CurrentstatusCurrent status Appointed military advisor at Prince Su’s residence. Has substantially overhauled the army’s treatment of wounded soldiers, as well as its sanitation and diet.
RelationshipwithPrinceSuRelationship with Prince Su Extremely close.
SecuritylevelSecurity level Extremely high. Personal guards maintain a strict watch, and covert guards are suspected of protecting him. Close-range investigation has been impossible.
NoteNote Usually conceals his appearance behind a white gauze veil hat. His true face cannot be seen clearly.
The emperor read through the repeated words none and unknown, and the furrow between his brows deepened.
He had indeed heard of “Physician Su” before, but at the time he had assumed Xiao Yuan had invented the man as a pawn to stabilize morale among the troops.
Now, however, it had been confirmed that the man truly existed.
And yet he had no household registration, no border-crossing records, and no traceable medical lineage.
This meant that nowhere within the entire territory of Dasheng could anyone find a record of his past.
The phrase “from overseas” could not explain this away.
An individual of unknown origins was not necessarily frightening.
But an individual of unknown origins whom Prince Su had used the highest authority in the entire Northern Frontier to protect—that was frightening.
The more thoroughly Xiao Yuan concealed and guarded this “Military Advisor Su,” the more it suggested that the man’s value was unfathomable.
Such excessive vigilance only deepened the emperor’s suspicions.
What sort of secret did this man possess that could make Xiao Yuan go to such lengths to conceal his identity?
“From overseas…” the emperor murmured.
Unusual medicines.
Unusual devices.
Medical techniques never seen before.
And a man whose past could not be traced at all, belonging to a medical school that did not appear in any records.
A remarkable individual?
The thought had barely surfaced before he suppressed it himself.
Absurd.
That was nothing more than an old story whose truth could never be established.
A memory sealed away for so long that time had nearly worn it from existence stirred quietly in the depths of his mind.
His father’s voice, heavy with regret, seemed to echo once more through the dark chamber beneath the Imperial Ancestral Temple.
It had happened when he was young, just after being designated crown prince. In that secret chamber beneath the temple, his father had personally passed down a piece of royal knowledge.
It was a secret never recorded in any written history, one transmitted only by word of mouth between successive emperors and their designated heirs.
“In the early days of Dasheng’s founding, our ancestor received the aid of a remarkable individual and obtained a power capable of changing the world. It was a ‘key’ that could open the gates to a golden age.”
His father’s voice had echoed through the dark chamber.
“For the next two hundred years, the imperial family maintained ties with this individual and his descendants, allowing Dasheng’s national strength to grow steadily. Until the Jingtai era…”
The voice of his father back then had been heavy, his eyes filled with bottomless regret.
“The imperial family committed an irreparable mistake.”
“That mistake buried the entire family of the remarkable individual in history. It also caused the imperial family to lose that power forever. Everything came to an abrupt end. From that point onward, no member of the imperial family could open that ‘door’ again.”
His father had fallen silent for a long time before patting him on the shoulder and issuing a grave warning.
“Remember, that was a crime committed by the imperial family. If one day… that door should open again…”
He could no longer remember what his father had said after that. After all, it had been fifty years ago.
At the time, he had regarded it as nothing more than a founding legend tinged with mythology, a prophecy fabricated by successive ancestors to conceal some bloody political upheaval. He had never truly taken it to heart.
But now, the stagnant waters of the Northern Frontier were beginning to ripple. A “Physician Su” had appeared out of nowhere, possessing extraordinary medical skills yet leaving no trace of his past. Xiao Yuan had one trump card after another, and the Northern Frontier Army was recovering at a terrifying pace…
The emperor pressed his knuckles hard against the desk, a deep, cold glint flashing through his eyes.
Xiao Yuan’s unusual caution toward Physician Su.
The many rumors surrounding Physician Su.
The shadow of this man seemed to overlap, faintly but unmistakably, with the “remarkable individual” his father had described.
He thought back carefully.
The Jingtai era had been approximately four hundred years ago.
At that time, there had indeed been an old case that was deliberately downplayed in the official histories.
And that case had been connected to the Northern Frontier—and to a particular surname.
“Su.”
The emperor murmured the name.
It was a common surname, but at this moment, it no longer seemed ordinary.
The case from four hundred years ago.
The Northern Frontier.
And the Physician Su before him, whose origins could not be traced.
Several clues that had seemed completely unrelated suddenly converged, if only faintly, in a way that made him deeply uneasy.
For four hundred years, the imperial family of Dasheng had believed that the matter had been buried forever, an old story carried away by the wind.
But if this Physician Su truly had a connection to the “remarkable individual” from that era…
Then what, exactly, had been buried four hundred years ago? The Su family alone—or the true future of the entire Dasheng imperial family?
He had originally believed that the Northern Frontier was merely a death trap laid for Xiao Yuan.
But now, for the first time, he realized that perhaps it was not just the Northern Frontier that was awakening.
Someone was making moves in the capital. Someone was making moves in the Northern Frontier. Even the princes around him were beginning to exhibit strange behavior.
Who, in the places beyond his knowledge, had started playing this game of chess all over again?
The emperor slowly rose to his feet and stood before the imperial desk with his hands behind his back. His gaze was as deep as a well, and his voice was cold and decisive.
“Send the order. At the hour of Yin tomorrow, open the Secret Archives Pavilion.”
“Retrieve every document from the Jingtai era concerning the Su family, the Northern Frontier, and… anything connected to the Su family.”
“Not a single document is to be left behind. Bring them all out.”
He had to determine whether this was merely a coincidence, or whether the matter from four hundred years ago had truly returned.
He did not believe in mythology.
But he believed in evidence.