Chapter 82: Worrying Is Useless, Better to Drink

It had been days. Given He Chunhua’s focus on his official career, how could he possibly pass up such a prime opportunity to report his accomplishments and claim credit?

"If Father's memorial had arrived first, it might have been suppressed after review. But once rumors spread, a resubmitted memorial would confirm everything, and the royal court's denial would be useless."

"Why would it be suppressed?" He Lingchuan's thoughts raced, and he suddenly understood. "Ah—are you saying the royal court is wary of the situation and wants to keep it under wraps? That's not good; wouldn't our achievements be swallowed up?"

The royal court was currently sending troops to attack the Grand Marshal, and the battle at Woling Pass had only recently ended. The vast empire was besieged by troubles on all sides, and the royal court was exhausted trying to contain them. At this moment, it likely didn't want to provoke the Governor of Xunzhou into rebellion, thus creating another powerful enemy for itself.

Therefore, it was highly probable that the court would suppress what happened in the Panlong Desert, keeping it a secret. This would allow both the capital and the Governor of Xunzhou to breathe a sigh of relief.

But if that happened, the military achievements He Chunhua had so dearly wished for would likely vanish.

Having taken such a great risk and paid such a high price, how could he possibly accept that?

So, He Chunhua's strategy was to send people into the capital to spread the news and stir up public interest. Once the rumors spread, even if the Governor of Xunzhou didn't want to rebel, he would be forced to!

The mutual suspicion between him and the royal court was already separated by only the thinnest of barriers. It seemed He Chunhua had decided to tear through it himself.

Having figured all this out, He Lingchuan couldn't help but clap his hands. "Dad's amazing! He's still got it!"

He Yue lowered his head. "Once the rumors spread, our accomplishments will be validated. But war will reignite in the Yuanbei region, and who knows how many lives it will consume. Or Nian Zanli might even defect directly to the Northern Demon Kingdom, causing Great Yuan to immediately lose a province. None of this bodes well for Great Yuan."

"So, the royal court suppressing our achievements would be a good thing, then?"

"Perhaps the royal court intends to deal with the Grand Marshal first, and then address the Xunzhou issue, tackling them one by one."

He Lingchuan laughed. "Nian Zanli isn't some straw puppet, foolishly standing there waiting for an attack. Since he has rebellious intentions, he's like a powder keg. It's better for him to explode sooner rather than later; fewer people might get hurt that way." Saying this, he patted his younger brother's head. "Sometimes, good intentions can lead to bad outcomes."

He Yue sighed. "I'll tell you something else, but you must not repeat it."

He Lingchuan made a zipping-mouth gesture. "Don't worry; no pillow talk can get secrets out of me yet."

He was also a little surprised; this younger brother was usually self-important and independent, not really getting along with him. So how had He Yue become so close after returning from the Panlong Desert trip?

Could it be because he had helped He Yue against Nian Songyu?

He Yue instinctively glanced left and right. "A few days ago, at dinner, Father asked me what I thought about the Grand Marshal's rebellion. I said it was a grave act of treason."

He Lingchuan slurped a large mouthful of almond tofu. "What's wrong with that?"

"That was just to humor Father," He Yue whispered. "Actually, if I put myself in his shoes, I find the Grand Marshal's actions excusable. The King treats state affairs rather frivolously. Take his stance on the Northern Demon Kingdom, for instance; I agree more with the Grand Marshal."

"Oh?" He Lingchuan was a little surprised. "You don't approve of defending our territory?"

"Who doesn't approve?" He Yue countered. "But national policy should be based on reality, not just reckless bravery. Look at Panlong City; it was remarkable, holding out for thirty-two years after becoming an enclave. But its motherland was weak. No matter how much Zhong Shengguang fought, the Xiluo Kingdom merely lost the Panlong Wasteland again, and a few years later, it ceased to exist itself."

"The strong can speak passionately, declaring that those who offend them will be punished, no matter how distant. But the weak must know how to weigh trade-offs," He Yue said earnestly. "Our motherland is no longer the prosperous and powerful Great Yuan it once was. Only if the Grand Marshal strives to appease the Northern Kingdom can Great Yuan free up its hands to quell internal unrest."

He Lingchuan smiled. "You're saying, 'to defeat external threats, one must first stabilize internal affairs'?"

He Yue nodded.

"So, what if the internal chaos cannot be resolved for a long time?" He Lingchuan continued. "Warlordism, floods, famine, rebels, border unrest—in the past ten years, we seem to have only managed disaster relief, and even that wasn't always successful. Qiansong Commandery is peaceful now because Father is there, but seven or eight years ago, it wasn't like this."

He Lingchuan continued, "The Grand Marshal didn't just gain power today. He's been assisting the King with these troubles for a long time, and they still haven't been properly resolved."

He Yue hesitated, on the verge of speaking, then sighed.

He Lingchuan patted his shoulder. "It's fine to worry idly, but you can't speak so carelessly. Not a single word of what we've said today must leave this room, lest you implicate Father and me!"

He Yue retorted grumpily, "Of course not, I'm not stupid."

"Liu Baobao is hosting a banquet at the Acacia Pavilion tonight. Are you going?"

"I can't drink alcohol."

Oh, right. Madam Ying was very strict with her youngest son. He was fourteen, old enough for marriage talks, yet he couldn't touch alcohol. Hmph!

He Lingchuan was about to say more, but his eyes darted. He grabbed another date cake and said, "I'm going to bathe; we'll talk later."

Without waiting for He Yue's reply, he jumped out the window and left.

"Huh?" He Lingchuan had slipped away too quickly, and He Yue had a bad feeling.

Just a few moments later, several figures entered through the doorway, led by none other than Madam Ying.

The moment she saw the table, she froze. "These are the refreshments for the tea party; they're supposed to be sent out now! Yue'er, if you wanted something to eat, why didn't you say so? I would have had someone prepare them and bring them over."

There were only a few pieces left of the pastries meant for ten people. When had her son become such a big eater?!

He Yue was speechless.

***

Back in his own courtyard, He Lingchuan patted his stomach, feeling comfortably full and pleased.

He had someone prepare fresh water, took a comfortable bath, and drank a cup of hot milk. Just as he was about to lie down for a nap, his gaze suddenly fell upon the broken knife on the table.

Normally, this knife was kept in the study, but today he had unconsciously brought it along.

He casually drew the broken knife and gently caressed it. Since leaving the illusion, the knife no longer seemed so menacingly cold; its keen edge, which felt as though it could cut one's eyes, had no effect on him.

Of course, this applied only to him. He Yue had merely lightly touched the blade, not even the edge, and had cut his finger.

He Lingchuan raised his finger, touched the edge, and immediately pulled back.

He was very careful with his body.

His finger was fine, perfectly intact.

He Lingchuan grew bolder and lightly pressed his finger onto the blade.

Still no blood.

He pressed down hard, his fingertip forming an indentation, yet his skin remained unbroken.

It was so sharp, yet it felt as if it had no edge.

He Lingchuan was overjoyed and brandished the knife several times.

*Snap!* A sandalwood table several feet away instantly snapped in half.

This knife was different only for him!

He Lingchuan couldn't put it down.

His lone soul had arrived in this foreign world. Although he lived a life of luxury, attended by many, everything he had was inherited from the original body, which always gave him a sense of unreality.

Only this knife truly belonged to him alone; others couldn't even touch it.

What a pity, he didn't know its name. A treasure knife should have a name. Why hadn't Zhong Shengguang engraved its true name on the scabbard?