When Liang Qiang received the news at the wounded soldiers’ camp and rushed over, he didn’t even catch a glimpse of Chu Zhao’s retreating figure.

He stood outside the military camp in a daze.

“Commander Liang.” A passing soldier greeted him.

As the sole survivor of the Left Wing Vanguard Battalion who had refused to surrender at the brink of death and nearly had his left arm severed, Liang Qiang’s story had spread throughout the camp. The military most respected brave warriors, and now almost everyone knew of Liang Qiang.

“Commander Liang, is there something you need?” Another soldier actively inquired. “Do you need my help?”

Liang Qiang snapped back to attention and shook his head, smiling at the soldier: “I’m just bored from recuperating, always wanting to return to the military.”

The soldiers looked at him with even more admiration.

“Commander, rest well and recover, then come back.” “Don’t rush, when you appear, the Xi Liang soldiers will flee at the sight of you.”

Everyone spoke and joked to comfort him.

Liang Qiang exchanged smiles with them for a moment, took his leave, and as soon as he turned around, the smile disappeared from his face. He mounted his horse and rode to the wounded soldiers’ camp.

“Commander Liang.” The guard called out. “Your father came to see you.”

Father! A smile appeared on Liang Qiang’s gloomy face as he quickened his pace and rushed inside. Since the incident occurred, his father hadn’t come once—after all, with the complete annihilation of the Vanguard Battalion, the Left Wing Army bore responsibility for dereliction of duty and had been under investigation.

Liang Ji sat inside the tent, examining a tactical sand table. Hearing the commotion, he looked up and saw his son running in. He quickly stood up, his gaze first falling on Liang Qiang’s arm.

“Father, I’m fine.” Liang Qiang smiled.

Liang Ji walked over and carefully grasped Liang Qiang’s arm: “I heard about it—the wound was very deep, nearly severed.”

“But it wasn’t severed. After another few months of recovery, it’ll be good as new.” Liang Qiang smiled, then moved his arm. “Even now I can—”

Liang Ji quickly stopped him, scolding: “Don’t show off. That’s not how heroes act.”

Hero… He knew well how he’d become this hero. Liang Qiang’s expression grew somber as he clenched his hand. Perhaps he should tell his father—

Liang Ji noticed the change in his son’s expression, then looked at his son’s young face—even darker, thinner, and more haggard than when working as a laborer, not to mention his former appearance as a young nobleman in the capital—his impression as a father had grown blurred.

Hero—if one could live safely and smoothly, who would want to be a hero?

“A-Qiang.” Liang Ji gently patted his son’s shoulder. “Only by enduring the bitterest hardships can one rise above others. A good life awaits you in the future. Your father is proud of you, and the Liang clan is proud of you.”

His father was proud of him. Liang Qiang swallowed the words he was about to say. How could he disappoint his father? Not just disappoint—it would surely cause him fear and anxiety. He nodded, then shook his head: “Father, this is nothing. One person’s strength makes a hero, but Father is the one who creates heroes. With proper command, one person can create countless heroes.”

What proper command? None of that was his own doing, Liang Ji thought. Initially, he’d had only one personal attendant. Later, after receiving merit rewards and promotions, staff members were assigned to him. The more staff he had, the better his command became, and the higher his official position rose. Then came even more advisors and assistants, with better strategies—in short, the more capable things became, the less it had to do with him. Liang Ji’s eyes dimmed slightly. Perhaps he should tell his son—

“Father, the Liang clan isn’t proud of me, but of you.” Liang Qiang said solemnly, gripping his father’s arm. “Moreover, precisely because Father is here, I feel more at ease in the military.”

Indeed, warfare was dangerous with unpredictable outcomes, with both merit and punishment possible. For instance, this time with the Left Wing Vanguard Army, only his son had survived by chance, while the others who died would also face punishment. Getting recognition for Liang Qiang’s merits this time had been extremely difficult, meeting with doubt and obstruction. It was he—or rather, the staff around him—who had smoothed the relationships to secure the reward.

If Liang Qiang learned that he actually wasn’t talented or skilled in command, and was even controlled by others, he would surely become fearful and anxious. Forget being brave—he’d be distracted on the battlefield, which would be too dangerous.

Then both father and son would be finished.

“Let’s not speak of this anymore.” Liang Ji swallowed what he was about to say. “You and I, father and son, must work together with one heart and redouble our efforts. Besides, the current situation is very bad.”

He changed the subject, glancing around before speaking in a low voice.

“Prince Zhongshan’s troops have already surrounded the capital. The court and Prince Zhongshan have started fighting.”

“I see.” Liang Qiang blurted out. “No wonder she left—”

Liang Ji paused: “Who?”

“I mean there’s been troop movement in the military.” Liang Qiang said vaguely.

Liang Ji said: “The border army here won’t mobilize too many troops. The Xi Liang King hasn’t been dealt with yet.”

So this was Prince Zhongshan’s opportunity.

Da Xia truly faced troubles both internal and external this time.

Watching his father’s furrowed brow, Liang Qiang smiled: “Father needn’t worry. Whatever the outcome of victory or defeat, it has nothing to do with us. We kill enemies and protect Da Xia—no matter who becomes emperor, they must respect us and cannot do without us.”

Therefore, he must be a hero, must become superior to others, must grasp power and authority, must not end up like his uncle—cast aside like worn shoes.

Liang Ji had come to the commander’s main camp on official business to see Liang Qiang. With official matters pressing, he couldn’t stay long. After exchanging a few more words, he left.

Liang Qiang stood outside watching his father depart. Even after his father’s figure disappeared from view, he remained motionless for a long time, until a voice called from behind.

“Commander Liang.”

Liang Qiang turned around to see a soldier approaching with medicine.

“Time for your medicine.” He said.

This was the military physician specially assigned to care for him. Liang Qiang looked at him without speaking or accepting the medicine bowl.

The physician was puzzled by his stare: “Commander, what’s wrong?” He quickly added, “This medicine was specially prepared for you, Commander, to nourish blood and qi for faster recovery. If you don’t trust it, I’ll taste it first.”

He raised the bowl to drink. Liang Qiang smiled and raised his hand to stop him.

“I trust you—all of you.” He said, taking the medicine bowl and drinking it in one gulp.

The physician nodded: “Commander, rest well.” With that, he turned to leave.

Liang Qiang called him back.

The physician turned around, waiting for his instructions. Liang Qiang slowly approached.

“Tell your master,” he said, “that I, Liang Qiang, keeping my arm doesn’t affect our transaction, does it? Or does your master only dare to deal with one-armed heroes?”

These words seemed disconnected and cryptic, but the physician, looking at him, showed neither panic nor confusion. He lowered his eyes and said: “Commander, please wait. Let me request instructions.”

With that, he turned and left.

This time Liang Qiang didn’t call him back. Watching the physician’s retreating figure, his feelings were complicated. He had known—he couldn’t escape this net.

Once the net was cast, how could a bird fly out?

This earthly world was one great net. Then he would be the bird that flew highest within it.

…

…

After New Year’s passed and cold winds blew for several days, green buds suddenly sprouted on the willow trees by the roadside, and flocks of birds gathered on the branches, chirping and clamoring that spring had come.

But just as everyone had forgotten the New Year festivities, no one noticed the signs of spring either.

On the seemingly bustling and lively streets, people no longer walked leisurely but hurried along. Those sitting in teahouses and taverns no longer focused on savoring fine wine and delicacies, but whispered to one another.

“What do you plan to do?”

“Leaving isn’t an option—we have so many family members.”

“Can’t leave anyway, we’re surrounded on all sides. The capital is actually the safest place.”

“That’s true. I’ve seen many families bringing their relatives from the countryside into the city.”

“Who would have thought it would really come to this? Will they really fight?”

“How could we not have expected it? We’ve been expecting it since the Late Emperor’s incident, waiting until today.”

With a snap, Qi Leyun closed the flower window, blocking out the whispered conversations from the side.

“My father says we’ve been waiting until today. Taking advantage of Xi Liang’s military action and border instability to force the palace—Prince Zhongshan is truly shameless.” She said.

The young ladies sat together in the small flower hall, but this time there was no poetry discussion, only furrowed brows.

Although the court’s decree claimed to be summoning Prince Zhongshan to protect the capital, after everyone’s initial confusion and delayed reaction, by now they’d all come to their senses—when a prince maintains private troops and marches on the capital, whether it’s protecting the capital or forcing the palace is written clearly in the history books.

“A-Tang, what does the court plan to do about this?” Qi Leyun asked again.

Chu Tang seemed lost in thought. Only when her name was called did she look over and say helplessly: “I don’t know either. With the Empress absent, I can’t even enter the Imperial City, and no one consults me on court matters.”

That made sense. The young ladies nodded.

“But don’t worry, there’s one thing I do know.” Chu Tang added. “Since the war with Xi Liang began, my uncle has refused any reinforcements. He specifically said to guard against anyone taking advantage of the chaos. When Xi Liang soldiers infiltrated Shangjun, A-Zhao went to provide aid herself precisely to avoid mobilizing any troops from outside the border commanderies. So the court has long had sufficient forces prepared for battle. Everyone can rest assured—the capital will be fine.”

The young ladies’ expressions showed admiration.

“With General Chu and Empress Chu so resolute, the capital will certainly be safe.” Qi Leyun said.

With the tense situation, the young ladies briefly gathered to exchange news before dispersing.

Qi Leyun and Chu Tang rode back together in a carriage. Chu Tang entered the Chu residence while she entered Chu Garden.

Seeing her family packing belongings, Qi Leyun said irritably: “What are you afraid of? We’ll be fine. Just stay here—this is the Empress’s family home, the safest place.”

Master Qi said: “We indeed won’t have anything to worry about. Even if the capital falls, we’ll be fine.” He looked at his daughter with a complex expression. “But living in the Empress’s family home—that’s when we’ll have problems.”

What did that mean? Qi Leyun was stunned and confused.

…

…

“This letter—”

In the Grand Tutor’s hall, Xie Yanfang placed a letter down.

Deng Yi saw Prince Zhongshan’s seal on the envelope, along with Xiao Xun’s name.

“This is a letter the Prince Zhongshan’s heir wrote to the powerful aristocratic families.” Xie Yanfang said with a smile.

Deng Yi didn’t pick up the letter to read it, only asking: “Is he trying to persuade everyone to help him force the palace?”

Xie Yanfang opened the letter and shook his head: “Not exactly. Young Master Xiao is just being candid about his intention to force the palace.”

He looked at the letter’s contents.

“The young master says this is his own matter, and he alone will bear the evil deeds and infamy. But he will guarantee the safety of the aristocratic families. Once weapons clash, he won’t vent his anger on the aristocratic families and powerful clans.”

Deng Yi smiled: “So he can vent his anger on common people? Does he know how many cities and civilians will perish in the flames of war? And he still feels aggrieved, saying he’ll bear the infamy and evil deeds alone.”

“He certainly knows.” Xie Yanfang said. “That’s why he’ll make the court share the burden.”

“They’ve already reached the Capital Garrison’s defense line.” Deng Yi said gravely. “Advancing further constitutes unauthorized military action with treasonous intent—punishable by death without mercy.”

“He captured the three imperial envoys and claims they’re his commanding officers.” Xie Yanfang said. “Unsurprisingly, he’ll soon execute the three envoys, claiming they were tyrannical and disrupted the army. Then he’ll come to the capital to apologize and personally see His Majesty—”

He looked at Deng Yi.

“At that point, who’s right and who’s wrong—the common people won’t be able to tell.”

Deng Yi said mildly: “The common people aren’t that stupid. Do you think they truly don’t understand what’s happening? They’re just—”

“Just deceiving themselves, escaping reality, comforting themselves, whitewashing the peace.” Xie Yanfang finished his sentence. “But to avoid danger, the common people can twist right and wrong. And these aristocratic families—”

Xie Yanfang placed the letter on the table and tapped it with his finger.

“This letter appears not to be persuading them. Xiao Xun isn’t asking them to do anything. But at this moment, when the powerful aristocratic families do nothing, that itself means they’ve sided with Prince Zhongshan!”

Deng Yi looked down at the letter on the table and asked: “Is Lord Xie’s meaning that we should confirm Prince Zhongshan’s treasonous intent?”

“Only this way can the world know there’s no retreat, no escape.” Xie Yanfang said. “Stop thinking about self-deception. And these aristocratic families—if they do nothing, if they receive Xiao Xun’s letter but don’t report it, don’t express indignation or outrage, they share the guilt. Only this way, when this battle begins, will it be righteous, without concerns about the rear, and will make all under heaven submit. A-Yu’s position as emperor will never again be questioned by anyone.”

Deng Yi looked up and asked: “Then how do we confirm Prince Zhongshan’s treasonous intent?”

Xie Yanfang looked at him and asked: “What did Xiao Xun write in his letter to the Grand Tutor?”

…

…

“After all this talk, Lord Xie actually wants me to confirm Prince Zhongshan’s treasonous intent.” Deng Yi smiled and leaned back in his chair. Looking at Xie Yanfang, he reached into his sleeve and pulled out a letter. “I think what Lord Xie actually wants to ask isn’t what Young Master Xiao wrote to me now, but what he wrote to me earlier, during the capital’s military rebellion. No—perhaps even earlier than that, such as letters showing how I colluded with Prince Zhongshan, correct?”

Deng Yi wasn’t a fool. Of course, the biggest problem now was who would expose the father and son’s wolfish ambitions.

Have him, Deng Yi, expose it?

If Prince Zhongshan and his son had long colluded with Deng Yi, and Prince Zhongshan harbored treasonous intentions, then what were his, Deng Yi’s, intentions?

“Third Young Master, whether it’s a righteous army or whether the cause is just—the Emperor cares, but I don’t.” Deng Yi said. “I, Deng Yi, can even not care whether this battle is won or lost.”

These words were truly disgraceful. As Grand Tutor of the dynasty, he actually said he didn’t care about the court’s victory or defeat in this battle.

“That’s right, I, Deng Yi, am exactly this kind of petty person.” Deng Yi said coldly. “I don’t care about propriety, righteousness, integrity, or shame. Since I’ve sat in this position, don’t think you can bind or manipulate me with reputation.”

He looked at Xie Yanfang and smiled again.

“Third Young Master, you’re not doing this to give the court a just cause—you’re just using this opportunity to threaten me.”

“If you truly wanted a just cause, you should seek out your nephew’s wife.”

“You know I have history with Prince Zhongshan. Don’t you know why Empress Chu left the Chu family with the Young Emperor?”

Back then, when Chu Zhao protected Xiao Yu and fought their way into the Imperial City to see the Emperor, she was subsequently given to the Crown Prince by the Late Emperor, who then ascended the throne. Everyone knew Xiao Yu was entrusted to the Chu family because Chu Ling, deeply trusted by the Emperor, had hidden a private army. No one inquired further into other matters.

For instance, if the Chu clan with their hidden private army was so reliable, why did Chu Zhao have to leave the Chu family with Xiao Yu?

And she had to fight her way out.

Why had Chu Lan been confined to the family estate with illness ever since? Why, as the imperial maternal family, did only the young girl Chu Tang appear in public among the Chu clan?

That young lady had never told him, and he didn’t press to ask, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know.

Xie Yanfang certainly knew.

Xie Yanfang’s expression remained gentle as he said: “Because to prevent the Chu family’s affairs from implicating the Empress, we must drag Grand Tutor down with them as well.”