Governing the country, enriching the people, an unparalleled imperial tutor

Meanwhile, on the southwestern frontier of the capital, Prince An, Zhao Hong, was having a secret meeting with the leaders of three small states.

The secret meeting took place in the basement of an old house in Gucheng. Prince An sat in the main seat, wearing an inconspicuous gray robe, his face showing no obvious signs of power or nobility. Behind him stood two personal guards, their hands on the hilts of their swords, standing beside him.

Opposite him sat the leaders of the three southeastern kingdoms: Li Chong, the ruler of the Eastern Li Kingdom, was rather thin and had a short beard; Duan Heng, the leader of the Southern Yue tribe, was broad-shouldered and thick-waisted, with his hands resting on his knees and his knuckles thick; and Helian Mu, the chieftain of the Western Qiang tribe, looked younger, sat upright, and had a bamboo basket at his feet.

"Our informant reports that the princess's wedding is scheduled for twelve days from now." Prince An's voice was deep and steady. "In the next few days, all the city gates of the capital will be wide open, and the patrol intervals of the Imperial Guards will be one-third longer than usual. The gaps between shifts will be enough for our men to approach the palace walls simultaneously from four directions. The medicine in the well water will be added a day in advance, and at noon the medicine will take effect, causing the guards to feel dizzy and weak. At that time, we will attack from the east, west, and north sides simultaneously, leaving an opening on the south side so they think they have a way to escape, and then intercept them from outside the city."

Li Chong stroked his short beard, his eyes flashing slightly: "Are your men already in the capital?"

"They went in three months ago. They live scattered around as merchants and laborers, rarely meeting, using pre-established contact points. The night before the wedding, they will all receive orders simultaneously." Prince An slowed his speech slightly, as if deliberately letting the words linger in the room longer. "After taking the capital, Xuan Shuo's existing six prefectures will be divided into four parts—the east to Dong Li, the south to Nan Yue, the west to Xi Qiang, and the north to us. We will divide the world into four!"

Duan Heng's lips twitched slightly, revealing a barely perceptible smile. His gaze shifted from the table to Prince An's face and lingered: "And what about you? Your surname is Zhao, you took the North, what's the difference between that and now?"

"The difference is," King An placed his hand on the table, slowly clenching it into a fist, "that from now on, I will be in charge of things in the north." As he said this, King An thought to himself: Now that I am the emperor, I will slowly deal with you few small countries. The whole world will be mine, and you are just a tool I borrow!

Helianmu spoke: "I have cleared out all the border checkpoints, and not a single check record has been sent to the capital in the past three months. My men are disguised as merchant caravans and scattered in villages within thirty miles of the capital. Twelve days later, they will set off simultaneously from four directions and arrive at their respective locations before dawn."

"These people don't have heavy weapons, but they have knives and bows. Their numbers are enough to cover the outer defense line. I also have poison that can kill instantly. Do you want to consider it?" After he finished speaking, he leaned back in his chair and fell silent. Then he glanced at the bamboo basket at his feet—the white cloth at the top of the basket was still sticking out. He pushed the basket a little further under the table, waiting for the people at the table to notice it before he brought it up himself.

Prince An noticed the movement and saw the corner of the white cloth sticking out of the bamboo basket, but he continued, "Poison is out of the question. What we need is the young emperor's life. How can I be emperor if everyone in the capital dies? A sleeping potion will suffice!"

"After entering the city, first control the palace gates and city gates, then seal off the Six Ministries. The Imperial Guards inside the capital will not exceed three thousand men, and after the drug takes effect, no more than half of them will be able to stand firm."

Li Chong tapped his fingers lightly on the table: "Is your inside man reliable?"

"He's reliable," Prince An said. "He's been in the Imperial Guard for eight years. His position isn't prominent, but he knows everything he needs to know. He'll replace the guards at the South Gate with my men the night before." Prince An stood up. "For the next twelve days, your men must not approach the capital."

Duan Heng also stood up: "I'll go around to the south and enter the ambush position two nights before the wedding." Helian Mu then stood up, bent down, and picked up the bamboo basket at his feet. The three of them stood up one after another, withdrew their gazes from the shadows, and opened the cellar door one by one and went out.

Prince An stayed behind. He waited until the footsteps of the three men disappeared from overhead before standing up, dimming the oil lamp to its lowest setting, standing in the basement for a while, then bending down to pick up his old coat and draping it over his shoulder before leaving through another hidden door.

The abandoned quarry, thirty miles north of the city, is trembling in another way.

The moment the first explosion rang out, a young soldier in the back of the column buckled at the knees and squatted down, the butt of his musket hitting the gravel ground with a dull thud.

Someone in the front row couldn't help but glance back, then quickly turned away, their shoulders slightly tense. The wind pushed the debris over, landing on the shoulder pads of the people in the front row, making a fine, sandpaper-like rubbing sound. The second sound was deeper than the first, as if something had been pulled from the ground and exploded. A piece of gravel the size of a fist was thrown to the left side of the line, rolling twice on the ground before coming to a stop.

There was a brief sway in the line, but it quickly returned to its orderly state—not a single one of the hundred people took a single step back.

Zheng San squatted on the side of the line and handed a freshly loaded musket to the nearest soldier: "Hold it steady, muzzle facing forward. After the matchlock is lit, wait three breaths before pulling the trigger. The butt of the musket should be against your shoulder, otherwise the recoil will crack your collarbone."

The soldier's finger paused on the barrel as he took the gun, as if burned by the heat of the iron. Following Zheng San's instructions, he loaded the gunpowder, tamped it down with a ramrod, lit the match, and pulled the trigger on the third breath as smoke began to rise. A short, sharp explosion rang out in front of the stone wall; the iron pellet struck the surface, leaving a shallow dent the size of a thumb. His shoulder jolted backward the instant the shot fired, and he staggered for a beat.

He looked at the new dent on the stone surface, glanced down at the musket in his hand, then looked up at the stone wall, reassessing the difference between the weight of the object in his hand and the actual result it could cause.

Lin Yanzhou stood on a higher stone platform, watching the troops below take turns training. The sounds of muskets echoed and overlapped between the stone walls, turning each explosion into a series of lingering echoes.

The grenade test throws continued in another direction, with the craters on the ground getting deeper and deeper, and the smoke and dust rising in the air being blown by the wind towards the gap above the stone wall and then dissipating.

Two cannons were positioned at the end of the column. Zhao the blacksmith squatted beside the cannon on the right, poking deep into the breech with a thin iron poker, then stepped back a few paces and waved to the side. The igniter brought the match cord and fuse close to the breechblock, and a muffled thud, deeper than all the muskets combined, crashed against the stone wall. Large chunks of debris tumbled down the front of the wall, several larger pieces of rock breaking off and bouncing a few times on the ground before coming to a stop. The dust from the entire quarry was instantly thrown up to waist height, causing the men in the front to cough repeatedly, but no one retreated.

Zhao the blacksmith leaned closer to inspect the cannon, stood up, nodded in Lin Yanzhou's direction, and made a gesture—the cannon barrel was intact, without cracks, and the base was not shifted.

During a training break, Lin Yanzhou sat on a flat old stone slab at the edge of the quarry. Xiaolan walked in from the side passage and stopped two steps away from him, without approaching the resting soldiers.

"The contact point near the old house is becoming more frequent," Xiaolan said. "In the past five days, twelve people have come and gone. They weren't the same group, but each one came from a different direction and stayed for a very short time, less than the time it takes for an incense stick to burn. I sent men to follow three of them. Two of them went southwest after leaving the city, and one disappeared near the market after circling around the city."

"Can you confirm what they conveyed?"

"No," Xiaolan said. "I sent men to try and approach that old house, but each time they got close, they found spies guarding the area. I didn't alert them; I only confirmed the number of people coming and going and the direction they were heading. I can't figure out what they're talking about yet." She paused, lowering her voice even further. "The people from Prince An's side have stopped showing up at the contact point, but the number of caravans entering the city from the southeast has increased by 30% compared to last month, all coming from the border."

After listening to her words, Lin Yanzhou lowered his head and thought for a moment. He could deduce the density of Prince An's activities from the number of caravans and the changes in the flow of people entering and leaving the contact points, but density was not the same as content.

What was that caravan carrying from the border? What was the agreed-upon date? The final veil remained in place. But the wedding day was still twelve days away, and that veil was growing thinner and thinner.

After training, Lin Yanzhou stood at the front of the column, watching the hundred soldiers withdraw from the quarry one by one along the narrow path. Each person's gait was different from three days ago as they passed him—more steady.