The low-key prince summons trainees from the Imperial Household Department at the start of the game.

The Sutra Repository is located in the northwest corner of the temple. It is a two-story wooden building. The first floor stores scriptures and classics, while the second floor houses manuscripts and miscellaneous books by eminent monks throughout history.

Daoyan led Zhou Xun up to the second floor, pushed open an inconspicuous little door in the corner, and inside was a narrow meditation room.

There was a couch, a table, and a shelf. Several yellowed ancient books were spread out on the table, and a calligraphy scroll hung on the wall that read "Observe the situation calmly."

The writing style is deep and restrained, unlike the Buddhist verses written by a monk, but rather the motto of a strategist who has experienced many ups and downs.

Zhou Xun's gaze lingered on the calligraphy for a moment before he sat down at the table.

Daoyan took a thin booklet from the shelf and handed it to him.

It was that handwritten copy of "Essentials of Military Strategy".

Zhou Xun flipped through a few pages, his brows furrowing deeper and deeper, not because he couldn't understand it, but because he understood it too well.

The methods of infantry and cavalry coordination discussed in this book corroborate his experience in training troops over the past two years. It is something that only someone who has actually been on the battlefield and personally commanded troops could write.

He raised his head to look at Dao Yan, his gaze no longer holding the condescending scrutiny of before, but instead a complex expression of scrutiny tinged with solemnity.

"Has the Zen master read this military treatise?"

"I've read it several times." Dao Yan sat down opposite Zhou Xun, picked up the teapot on the table and poured two cups of tea, his movements as casual as if he were entertaining an old friend. "To be honest, Your Highness, before I became a monk, my family name was Yao, and several of my ancestors held military positions."

Zhou Xun closed the booklet, placed it on the table, and stared at Dao Yan for a long while.

He suddenly asked, "My mother specifically requested you to interpret the divination slips today. Did someone inform you beforehand?"

"This humble monk had no prior knowledge that Her Majesty was coming."

Dao Yan picked up his teacup and took a sip, his tone calm, "Interpreting the divination is merely using the divination slips to express one's true feelings. Her Majesty is troubled, which can be seen from her gait and eyes when she entered the palace."

"Although Her Majesty's steps were steady, her footsteps were heavy; although her expression was composed, there was a sense of melancholy between her brows. In Buddhism, this is called 'heart fire,' and in the secular world, it is called 'worry.' As for the source of this worry?"

"May I be so bold as to ask, Your Highness, have you also been troubled by the same matter lately?"

Zhou Xun remained silent for a moment.

His mother held a noble position in the palace, and there were only a few things that could worry her.

The emperor's favor, the harem, and the increasingly delicate situation between him and his elder brother.

The fact that the monk said "the same thing" clearly showed that he had noticed the shared sorrow between the monk and the queen mother.

He picked up the teacup that Daoyan had pushed towards him, but instead of drinking it, he gently stirred the tea leaves floating on the surface with the lid.

"Go on."

"Your Highness and the First Prince, one a military leader and the other a civil official, are both talents of the state."

"But since ancient times, civil and military affairs have been equally important. It is true that His Highness's reputation among civil officials is growing day by day, but civil officials cannot fight for the court or guard the borders for His Majesty."

"The hundreds of thousands of imperial guards, including the Tiger Guard and the Feathered Forest Guard, will not be willing to die for anyone because of a good poem. They trust the person who can lead them to victory."

Dao Yan paused, then gently placed the prayer beads on the table. The beads made a soft sound as they struck the surface. "But conversely, one can conquer the world but not govern it."

"Although the Grand Commandant's office has the support of hundreds of thousands of imperial guards, if the cabinet's memorials cannot be approved, the Ministry of War's provisions will be delayed for three days, and the Ministry of Revenue's pay will be delayed for half a month, even the most elite army will be unable to move an inch."

"So in the end, the competition between civil and military affairs is not about who can overpower whom, but about who can make up for their own shortcomings first."

These words were spoken very casually, but every word struck Zhou Xun's heart precisely.

Zhou Xun put down his teacup, his body involuntarily leaning slightly forward.

He entered the fourth rank at the age of sixteen. During the spring hunt, he killed a tiger with a single spear thrust, and all the military officers in the court cheered for him. But he knew very well what was going on in his heart.

No matter how skilled he was in martial arts or how great his military achievements were, the civil officials in the imperial court always looked at him with a subtle sense of distance.

That wasn't hostility towards him personally, but rather a natural wariness towards his identity as a "military general."

As for winning over these upright civil officials, he had neither the talent of his elder brother to exchange poems and essays, nor the extensive teacher-student relationships that the Grand Tutor had throughout the court and the country.

"Does the Zen Master mean that I should also learn from my elder brother, composing poems and treating scholars with respect?"

"Your Highness misunderstands. What this humble monk meant was that Your Highness does not need to become the Crown Prince."

"His Highness wins over scholars through poetry and literature, which is his strength. His Highness serves the country through military strategy, which is his strength. To use one's own weakness to attack the other's strength is a major taboo in military strategy."

"What Your Highness truly needs is not the adoration of scholars, but their assistance—a strategist who can write memorials, formulate plans, and navigate the inner workings of the cabinet."

Daoyan picked up the teapot and poured some tea for Zhou Xun. The tea made a crisp and pleasant sound as it was poured into the cup, which was particularly clear in the small meditation room. "No matter how sharp a general's sword is, it cannot cut through the words on paper. But no matter how sharp a scholar's pen is, it cannot stop thousands of troops on the battlefield. The paths of literature and martial arts are different, but in the end they must come together."

Zhou Xun remained silent for a long time.

The sound of monks chanting their evening prayers drifted in from outside the window, deep and resonant, like an invisible tide washing over the entire temple.

Dao Yan stopped speaking, but sat quietly opposite him, fiddling with his prayer beads, his expression as calm as still water, as if what he had just said was nothing more than ordinary chatter.

When he was interpreting the divination slips in front of the Empress, he had already figured out about 70-80% of the Second Prince's temperament.

Impatient and competitive, but unconsciously restrains his sharpness when facing truly talented people.

So when Zhou Xun asked that pointed question, he actually felt that an opportunity had come.

"Then, Zen Master, what do you think I should be doing right now?"

"First, there is no need to compete with His Highness for literary fame. A talent like Su Shi is a once-in-a-millennium find. Whoever obtains him is just adding icing on the cake. But if His Highness is distracted by this and competes with a group of literati, then he is putting the cart before the horse."

"Secondly," Dao Yan's voice lowered even further, almost blending into the chanting, "among Your Highness's advisors, is there anyone who can write a policy proposal for Your Highness equivalent to the one drafted by the Grand Tutor for His Majesty?"

Zhou Xun's eyes flickered, and his expression changed several times.

From resentment to contemplation, from contemplation to sudden realization, it finally settled into a calm solemnity.

He looked at Dao Yan, and the last trace of condescending scrutiny in his eyes completely disappeared.

He picked up his teacup and this time took a proper sip.

"The Zen Master's words today have enlightened me greatly. If I have the time in the future, I would like to come and ask the Zen Master for further guidance."

Dao Yan clasped his hands in a gesture of respect, his lowered eyelids concealing the faint smile in his eyes: "If Your Highness is interested, this humble monk will be at your service at any time."

He got up and saw Zhou Xun to the entrance of the Sutra Repository, watching the tall figure stride away down the stone steps.

The second prince's steps were a little lighter than when he came, but there was a different kind of composure to them.

When he came, he was just accompanying his mother to offer incense; when he left, he took with him a thought, and that thought would eventually take root and sprout.

The Empress's entourage left the Great Bao'en Temple in the afternoon.

As Zhou Xun accompanied the Empress to her carriage, she glanced at him and suddenly asked, "What do you think of that monk Daoyan?"

"He's not simple." Zhou Xun pondered for a moment, using the same words as the Empress, "This man is definitely not just a simple fortune-telling monk. His knowledge far surpasses that of ordinary monks. If he weren't a monk, I would really like to invite him to my residence."

He paused, then added, "However, many of the things he said did hit his son's sore spots."

"I spent less than an hour in his meditation room just now. He was helping his son look at that military book, and his son suddenly figured out a few long-standing problems."

"This kind of profound understanding, this sense of enlightenment, is something my son has only experienced in his entire life with a few teachers at the Grand Commandant's office."

The Empress nodded slightly and said nothing more.

She leaned against the car wall, closing her eyes to rest, but a barely perceptible smile appeared on her lips.

She certainly gained a lot from her trip to the Great Bao'en Temple today.

Not only did he witness firsthand what kind of person the scholar named Su Shi was, but he also unexpectedly discovered the hidden Dao Yan.

She didn't rush to win over Su Shi, as that would be too obvious and would only make the eldest prince wary.

However, she had already secretly instructed her trusted confidants to keep track of Dao Yan's involvement, waiting for the right time to do so.

She also wanted to thoroughly investigate the monk's background.

That same evening, the meaningful conversation in the Sutra Repository of the Great Bao'en Temple had become a detailed record, which was tucked into the hidden compartment of the food box sent to the Ninth Prince's side hall that night.

Zhou Xing sat by the window, drinking the red date and lotus seed soup that Chunlan had cooked, while unfolding the note.

Gao Lishi's handwriting was neat and meticulous, and almost every word Yao Guangxiao said was written down.

"The clouds part to reveal the moon," "The paths of civil and military officials may differ, but they will ultimately converge," "Your Highness does not need to become the First Prince."

After reading the last word, Zhou Xing folded the note into a small ball, stuffed it into his mouth, and swallowed it along with the lotus seed soup.

As the warm, sweet soup slid down his throat, he silently thought about something.

Yao Guangxiao's strategy of using someone else to lay eggs has already succeeded; before the eggs have even hatched, the Second Prince, the "chicken," has already started warming the nest for him.