In the seventeenth year of the Kaihuang era, I wrote my will in the examination hall.

Yang Yan gently waved his hand: "Keep quiet."

After entering the tent, their gazes swept over the huge sand table, and Qin Qiong and Li Jing's bloodshot eyes finally settled on the densely written book in Li Mi's hand.

A faint, yet extremely satisfied smile appeared on his face.

He saw Li Jing assigning Qin Qiong the crucial "decapitation" task, the two working together seamlessly; he saw Li Mi meticulously recording the key points of the allocation of provisions and equipment; he saw Shen Guang and his team gathered around the sand table, their eyes gleaming with unprecedented excitement and understanding.

The general is the courage of the army, and the commander is the soul of the army.

The framework of this army, which may change the fate of the Sui Dynasty in the future, has been established.

Yang Yan nodded slightly, said nothing, and quietly turned and left.

Trust is sometimes the best command.

Yang Yan returned from the camp outside the city, but instead of going back to the Prince's Palace, he ordered a carriage to go directly to Anrenfang.

This time, he had a thick booklet in his hand.

Bamboo shadows swayed in front of the Yu family's study. The pageboy, recognizing Yang Yan, wore a look of familiar helplessness: "Your Highness, the master…"

"Are you working on old drafts again?" Yang Yan asked with a smile.

The pageboy nodded sheepishly.

As they were talking, Yu Shiji quickly came out to greet them, his apology this time even more sincere: "Your Highness, please forgive me, my younger brother... his old illness has relapsed, and he has a terrible headache, so he really cannot see guests."

Yang Yan stared at Yu Shiji for a moment, then suddenly said, "Lord Yu, I have heard that when Master Boshi was young, he was sorting through tattered scrolls in the old palace of the Chen Dynasty. He once went three days without sleep, which caused him to develop headaches. Is this the same ailment?"

Yu Shiji was taken aback: "Your Highness even knows this?"

"If you're looking for talent, you naturally need to do your homework." Yang Yan took out a small porcelain bottle from his sleeve. "This is 'Qingxin Xingshen San' (a traditional Chinese medicine) from the Imperial Pharmacy, which is effective in relieving headaches. Please give it to the master."

He then handed over the scroll: "Please also pass this on. I will be going to Kunming Pool for martial arts practice tomorrow, and will visit you again in a few days."

Yu Shiji took the booklet; it felt heavy in his hand. He glanced at the cover instinctively; it was blank, simply wrapped in blue silk.

"Your Highness, this is...?"

"This is just a small token of my appreciation." Yang Yan bowed and took his leave. "Please take good care of yourself, sir."

As the carriage drove away, Yu Shiji stood at the door, the booklet in his hand seeming to weigh a ton. He hesitated for a moment, then finally turned and went inside, crossing the courtyard to his younger brother's study.

Inside the door, Yu Shinan was standing in front of his desk, practicing calligraphy. His brushstrokes were fluid and powerful, showing no sign of illness.

"He's gone?" Yu Shinan asked without looking up.

"I'm leaving." Yu Shiji placed the booklet and medicine bottle on the table and sighed, "Bo Shi, your excuses are a bit too much. This Prince Changning certainly has first-rate patience."

Yu Shinan continued writing: "Brother, do you know why he insisted on seeing me?"

"Naturally, it is for your name, and for the reputation of the Yu family among the scholars of Jiangnan."

"Then we must be even more cautious." Yu Shinan finally put down his pen, his gaze falling on the blank scroll. "To be embroiled in the struggles of the imperial family would mean utter ruin. My ambition lies in compiling books, not in the court."

He reached out and untied the blue silk.

He turned to the first page of the booklet and suddenly froze.

Instead of the recruitment pitches and promises he had expected, the paper contained neat rows of books, the ink still fresh.

"Records of Strange Things in Jiaozhou", written by Yang Fu of the Han Dynasty - a copy of the oral tradition of the Li people, kept in the Xian family ancestral hall, copied on coarse paper, more than half of which is damaged by insects.

"Travels in Nanyue", written by King Fan of Jin - found in the mezzanine of the Sutra Repository of Guangxiao Temple in Guangzhou, with signs of insect damage.

The "Fragmentary Ancient Commentary on the Songs of Chu" is suspected to be an old Han dynasty edition passed down through the Feng family. The bamboo slips are decayed and require urgent rescue.

Dozens of ancient books, all treasures from Lingnan, each with detailed notes on its condition, where it is kept, and the extent of damage.

Yu Shinan's fingers began to tremble.

"This is…" he exclaimed, looking up abruptly, "Where did he get all this?!"

Yu Shiji leaned closer for a look and his expression changed: "Many of these books... have been lost for a century!"

"That's why he said 'emergency treatment is needed.'" Yu Shinan turned the pages, his breathing becoming rapid. "Look at this one—'A copy of the Song-Qi court music score,' which was taken south with the palace women when the Chen dynasty fell, and is now hidden in a Li village in Danzhou... How did he know such a secret?"

The two brothers looked at each other, both seeing shock in each other's eyes.

This bibliography was not hastily put together. It was compiled through painstaking research, consulting old archives of the Secretariat, and interviewing elders in Lingnan!

"He just said..." Yu Shinan's voice was dry, "...that he'll come again in a few days?"

"Yes."

Yu Shinan slowly closed the booklet, his fingertips lingering on the cover for a long time.

The twilight deepened outside the window, and the bamboo shadows swayed.

……

On the way south, the Prince of Jin's carriage bumped slightly on the official road.

Yang Guang closed his eyes and leaned against the soft pillow, while the sound of horses' hooves came from outside the carriage.

"Knock knock."

A gentle knock was made from the outside of the carriage, and then the curtain was lifted slightly. A hand handed in a small bamboo tube sealed with wax, accompanied by a confidant's low voice: "Your Highness, an urgent message from Chang'an."

Yang Guang didn't even lift his eyelids, but simply stretched out two fingers to pick up the bamboo tube.

With a flick of his thumb, the sealing wax cracked. He unfolded the thin, cicada-wing-like silk strip, on which lay only a single line of tiny characters: "His Majesty has secretly investigated the imperial guards, seemingly intending to reorganize them."

After reading it, he held the note up to the oil lamp on the table and burned it.

The firelight illuminated his face, which was half-lit and half-shadowed.

"Your Highness, are there any arrangements?" a trusted aide asked from outside the carriage.

"No need." Yang Guang closed his eyes again.

……

In the Liangyi Hall of the Imperial City, Yang Jian did not review any memorials. Before him lay three secret reports from Longyou, Hedong, and Henan.

—In the Jincheng Prefecture archer assessment, out of three hundred people, forty-seven were able to draw a hard bow (three stones).

—The infantry of Fenyin Prefecture were dawdling in their drills, with slow formation changes and chaotic flag displays.

—In Gucheng Prefecture near Luoyang, there were old swords and spears from the Northern Qi Dynasty in the armory, which were badly rusted.

He picked up the fourth document, a routine report from the Guangzhou Military Governor's Office, just delivered by express horse from Lingnan. It read: "Three thousand garrison soldiers, undergoing routine drills, about half are proficient in archery and horsemanship..."

"About half," Yang Jian read out, his voice devoid of emotion.

What was the situation like in the early years of the Kaihuang era? The Qi and Chen dynasties were pacified, and the imperial guards were unstoppable. Back then, a single imperial guard could field archers, seven or eight out of ten of whom could draw strong bows, and infantrymen advanced in orderly formations like a wall. And this was only a little over a decade ago?

He carefully folded the secret report and locked it in a sandalwood box. This box already contained seven or eight similar reports.

"Tomorrow..." he murmured to himself.

He didn't care about tomorrow's exercise.

It was nothing more than youthful impetuosity and the rivalry between the powerful. But at this moment, he suddenly wanted to see what kind of performance Yang Yan's 1,500 ordinary soldiers could deliver.

If we can really make something of ourselves... perhaps we should have some other ideas besides the Fubing system.

……

Yuwen Shu's study was not lit with many lamps or candles, only one on the desk.

He was fifty-three years old this year, and his hair was already gray, but he sat upright like a pine tree. Yuwen Huaji stood in front of the table with his hands hanging down, without his usual arrogance.

"What are your plans for tomorrow's exercise?" Yuwen Shu's voice was not loud, but it carried the imposing aura of someone who had long held a high position.

"Father, rest assured, a thousand Imperial Guards will surely prevail against a mere fifteen thousand rabble," Yuwen Huaji said, puffing out his chest. "And what about Yang Xuangan's side..."

"Shut up," Yuwen Shu interrupted him. "Why do you think His Majesty approved this exercise? Was it just to let you two spite each other?"

Yuwen Huaji was taken aback.

"His Majesty is watching." Yuwen Shu stood up, walked to the map hanging on the wall, and pointed to the location of Kunming Pool. "Let's see just how capable that brat Yang Yan really is, and also let's see what you Imperial Guard generals are like..."

"Father, the elite Imperial Guards..."

"Elite?" Yuwen Shu turned around, his eyes sharp as knives. "In the ninth year of the Kaihuang era, when we pacified Chen, I led the vanguard of the Left Guard across the river, covering two hundred li in a single day and night, and capturing three strongholds in succession. Those soldiers were truly elite. The Imperial Guards now... their armor is shinier, their swords are sharper, but how much of their fighting spirit remains?"

Yuwen Huaji opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

"Tomorrow, you will lead the team yourself." Yuwen Shu walked back to the desk. "Don't use those underhanded methods."

"But……"

Yuwen Shu stared at his son, "I want you to win fair and square. But there's a method to how you win."

He lowered his voice: "Yang Yan's troops will surely disperse into the mountains and forests, using harassment to wear down the enemy. What you need to do is do the opposite—don't pursue, don't scatter, just hold the high ground near the water source and form a battle formation to wait..."

After Yuwen Huaji withdrew, Yuwen Shu stood alone in front of the map for a long time before sighing.

He recalled the secret edict that Yang Jian had just delivered, ordering a thorough investigation into the actual situation of the soldiers in each garrison.

A storm is brewing.

……

Yang Su sat in the stone pavilion, slowly brewing tea.

The water boiled, and he picked up the copper kettle, scalded the cups, and rinsed the tea, his movements as skillful as those of a refined scholar.

Yang Xuangan sat opposite him, somewhat irritated: "Father, General Yuwen Shu sent someone to deliver a message..."

"That's mature and prudent." Yang Su pushed a cup of tea in front of him. "Listen to him."

"Those peasants really just stayed in the mountains and forests..."

"Let it drag on." Yang Su took a sip of tea. "Yuwen Shu is right. His Majesty is watching this battle."

He put down his teacup: "Xuangan, you must remember, the reason our Yang family is where it is today is not because of clever tricks, but because of vision and strategic thinking. Why did the Prince of Jin try to win me over? It's not because I can help him with underhanded tactics, but because I can help him see the big picture."

"Although the Guanzhong aristocracy is now in power, the Shandong gentry harbor ulterior motives, and the old Jiangnan region is increasingly disloyal. The Sui Dynasty may appear to be unified, but in reality, the north and south are still divided."

Yang Su's voice turned low and cold: "His Majesty is old and can no longer control the situation. This world needs a strong new ruler, a ruthless person who can reunite the North and South."

"Crown Prince Yang Yong? Hmph, indecisive and soft-hearted. If he were to succeed to the throne, the Sui Dynasty would be torn apart by those pedantic scholars who yearn for the Southern Dynasty and the ambitious men in the north within ten years."

"Yang Yan... is nothing to worry about." Yang Su looked at the moonlight outside the pavilion.

"The more capable Yang Yan is, the more incompetent the Crown Prince appears. After all, he is born out of wedlock, not the eldest son of the legitimate wife." Yang Su smiled. "The ancestral family rules have their reasons..."

With Yang Xuangan gone, only Yang Su remained in the stone pavilion.

A night breeze blew by, stirring up a few fallen leaves.

Yang Su stared at the boiling tea and muttered to himself, "Yang Yan, if you're truly wise, you'd better not win tomorrow's battle. If you do... that will be the true beginning of your demise."

A highly capable eldest grandson born out of wedlock presents too many variables...

……