My wife, Wei Gui, was 1.9 meters tall and fought against the Tang dynasty for the throne.

Inside the Water Conservancy Bureau's office, Du Chen spread a thick stack of documents on Li Ju's desk, stepped back, and bowed, saying, "Your Excellency, this is the plan for the Grand Canal transport over the next six months. My subordinate and Military Advisor Changsun have worked together for several days to calculate it, and it is now complete."

Li Ju picked up the documents and turned the pages one by one.

The numbers are densely packed, detailing everything from the transportation of grain and fodder, the formation of ships, the conscription of laborers, and the replenishment along the way. Every single detail is meticulously calculated, with each link interconnected.

He looked at it for a long time, put down the documents, tapped the table lightly with his fingertips, and focused his gaze on the map.

"From April to July, proceed according to your plan." He raised his head, his voice calm. "Starting in mid-July, the front lines will only be supplied with 30 days' worth of rations. Armaments will be mainly supplied with light equipment; heavy weapons and winter clothing will be postponed."

Du Chen was taken aback, his brows furrowing.

Changsun Wuji also raised his head, a hint of confusion flashing in his eyes.

Du Chen said, "Your Majesty, from mid-July onwards, it will be the time when the autumn harvest is not yet complete and the old grain is almost exhausted. If we only supply thirty days' worth of rations, the front lines will collapse before autumn."

Moreover, as autumn progresses, if the army remains entrenched in Liaodong, it will require an urgent supply of winter clothing, cold-weather provisions, and heavy defensive equipment. The further into the autumn we go, the more we'll need to increase supplies and proceed cautiously, resulting in an even greater demand for military provisions. Your adjustments, I'm afraid—”

He paused, then lowered his voice: "His Majesty will blame the censor for dereliction of duty."

Li Ju remained expressionless, took out a secret report from under the table, and pushed it in front of the two men.

"This is intelligence sent by Wang Yu from Shandong and Hebei," he said calmly. "Take a look."

Du Chen took it and unfolded it.

Changsun Wuji leaned closer, and the two of them read line by line, their expressions gradually changing.

The secret report contained two things:

First, in Shandong, Henan, Hebei and other places, the uprising army has spread like wildfire, with dozens of groups ranging from tens of thousands to thousands of people, and spread all over the Central Plains.

Secondly, desertion among frontline soldiers has surged, with 30-40% of them fleeing. The army has lost its will to fight, and there have even been instances of entire battalions and units collapsing.

Du Chen put down the secret report and remained silent.

Changsun Wuji frowned, looked up at Li Ju, and asked inquiringly.

"Your Majesty, since you already foresaw the inevitable defeat in the campaign against Liao, why did you still support His Majesty's campaign against Liao?"

Li Ju did not answer.

He looked at Changsun Wuji, his eyes showing no hesitation, no fear, only a bottomless coldness.

Changsun Wuji saw an abyss in those eyes—not the abyss of his own descent, but the abyss of Li Ju standing on the edge, watching others jump in.

He suddenly understood.

Li Ju was not incompetent, nor was he afraid of war; he deliberately avoided covering up Yang Guang's mistakes.

He was waiting for Liaodong to collapse.

This is not what a loyal minister does; this is a gamble by a ruthless tycoon.

Changsun Wuji lowered his eyes and did not say another word.

Du Chen remained silent, simply folded the secret report, placed it back on the table, picked up the stack of documents again, and began to revise the plan according to Li Ju's instructions.

The pen moved steadily, but the fingers holding the pen turned slightly white.

He knew that from this moment on, there was no turning back on the path they had embarked on.

After Du Chen and Changsun Wuji left the duty room, Li Ju asked Chen Mo to call Wang Yu.

Not long after, Wang Yu pushed open the door and came in, bringing with him a chill.

Chen Mo followed behind him, calmly closed the door, and stood to the side with his hands at his sides.

Li Ju lowered his voice and only mentioned two things.

"First, continue expanding the secret granaries in Wu'an County." He looked at Wang Yu. "The granaries must be large enough to hold a million shi of grain."

Wang Yu clasped his hands in a fist and said in a gruff voice, "Rest assured, Your Majesty, Huangshi Granary has been continuously expanded."

"Second, continue to take in the defeated soldiers along the canal. Do not make a fuss, do not reorganize them, but disperse them to the docks, riverbank camps, and canal escort teams. Keep those who can fight, and give those who cannot fight some food, so that they do not starve to death outside."

Wang Yu nodded and then asked, "How much?"

"Take as many as you can." Li Ju looked at him. "There will only be more deserters on the front lines, not fewer. We must gather them in before the court does. Remember, I need to obey your orders."

A hint of excitement flashed in Wang Yu's eyes, and he clasped his hands in a fist and said, "This humble general will certainly not fail in his mission."

Li Ju turned to Chen Mo and lowered his voice: "Chen Mo, you will coordinate all the ships and civilian vessels, and concentrate the available ships at the docks from Hebei to Zhuojun."

Chen Mo's expression remained unchanged as he cupped his hands and said, "Your subordinate obeys."

After Wang Yu and Chen Mo left, Li Ju sat alone at the table, took out the jade with the love knot tied to it from his bosom, and stroked the patterns on the jade with his fingertips.

Outside the window, dusk was falling.

He closed his eyes, and before him lay the map of Liaodong, the curves of the Grand Canal, the city walls of Luoyang, and the lingering, reluctant eyes of Wei Gui as he saw him off.

He opened his eyes and put the jade back into his bosom.

The river embankment camp, the armory.

The furnace was burning brightly, and the clanging of hammering metal was deafening.

Yuchi Gong, shirtless, his bronze muscles gleaming in the firelight, swung his sledgehammer, striking the anvil again and again.

Sparks flew everywhere, landing on his arms and chest, but he didn't flinch.

Since taking office as the head of the armory, the entire workshop has been bustling with activity and full of energy every day.

Yuchi Gong selected several dozen burly men from the defeated soldiers and dock laborers; each of them was skilled at wielding a hammer and willing to endure hardship.

He taught them the art of blacksmithing without holding back or putting on airs. He praised those who forged well and scolded those who slacked off.

In less than half a month, the output of the armory doubled.

In addition to his blacksmithing duties, Yuchi Gong also personally instructed the soldiers on how to properly use their weapons.

He erected a row of wooden stakes on the training ground, held a long spear in his hand, lowered his waist and mounted his horse. With a thrust of the spear, the wooden stakes, as thick as bowls, burst open.

"Watch closely! The spear isn't thrust with the arm, it's propelled out with the strength of the waist and horse!" His voice boomed, and dozens of soldiers around him stared wide-eyed, their faces filled with awe.

"Who wants to come up and give it a try?"

The crowd looked at each other, none of them daring to move.

Just as Yuchi Gong was about to shout again, a young soldier timidly raised his hand: "Master, I...I want to try."

Yuchi Gong glanced at him and handed him the long spear.

The soldier took it, imitated his stance, and thrust out the spear. The wooden stake wobbled but did not break.

Yuchi Gong laughed heartily and patted him on the shoulder: "You have the strength, but you're not applying it correctly. Let's try again!"

Just as things were getting lively, a sudden, urgent bugle call came from outside the camp gate.

One sound after another, sharp and piercing.

Yuchi Gong's expression changed. He put down his spear and strode toward the camp gate.

The garrison commander, his face covered in sweat, was directing his soldiers to close the camp gates and move the barricades.

"What's going on?" Yuchi Gong asked.

"Scouts report that a large bandit force of about five hundred has been spotted in the northeast and is heading towards the camp!" The captain's voice trembled. "Zhang Heshu has taken the main force to Liyang. There are less than a hundred veteran soldiers in the camp who are still capable of fighting; the rest are new recruits with little combat effectiveness..."

Yuchi Gong looked towards the northeast.

As dusk fell, dust swirled and the faint sounds of battle cries could be heard.

He turned and strode back to the armory, took his long spear and iron whip from the weapons rack, picked up an iron shield, and said in a deep voice:

"Leave the camp gate to me. Have the new recruits withdraw to the rear of the camp, and the veterans, follow me."

The captain's eyes widened: "Master Yuchi, you're all alone—"

"Who said I'm alone?" Yuchi Gong glanced at the blacksmiths in the armory.

Dozens of burly blacksmiths put down their hammers, picked up their weapons, and stood silently behind him.

Yuchi Gong raised his long spear, his voice booming like thunder: "Brothers, the Emperor sent us here to forge iron, not to cower like cowards. Today the bandits have come; let's show them whether the people of the Riverbank Camp are easy to bully!"