I traveled back to the Southern Song Dynasty and was actually outmaneuvered by Yue Fei.

Zhao Bozong pondered for a long time.

This made me think that this might be why Wei Shun endured three days of torture in Qin Hui's torture chamber, but ultimately gave up a fake list.

He might not know any of the people on the real list, and even if he couldn't bear it, he wouldn't be able to give them up.

Kui Shun only knew that his task was to guard the location of the drainage ditch and then, when necessary, carry Yue Fei's remains out for burial.

He probably didn't know what Zhou Sanwei had drawn on the blueprints, or even what intelligence roster Zhijia had hidden in the temple.

Having considered all this, we arrive at the final question: what is the purpose of all this?

Zhao Bozong carefully put down his pen, picked up the wooden bird, and held it up to the window.

The wooden bird was carved by Yue Fei in July of the eleventh year of the Shaoxing era, before he left Xiangyang.

He carved his obsession with the Northern Expedition into the wings of the wooden bird, and stuffed his entrustment to those who would follow into its belly.

Perhaps Yue Fei didn't know who would receive the wooden bird at that time, or whether the descendant of Emperor Taizu who was selected to enter the palace would come, but he still slipped the note in.

Yue Fei made all the arrangements he could; all that was left was to wait.

At that moment, Zhao Bocong suddenly understood.

Yue Fei's scheme may not have been aimed at bringing down Qin Hui.

Even if the seven people on the list, plus the many nodes in the intelligence network, were added together, they would not be enough to contend with Qin Hui in the imperial court.

None of these seven people were powerful officials in the court.

Zhou Sanwei was merely a high-ranking official in the Court of Judicial Review, and Qin Hui could imprison him with a single word. Feng Yi was just a court eunuch, and he dared not express his opinion publicly.

These people are not meant to stage a coup.

They have only one purpose.

Preserve the fire.

Zhou Sanwei guarded the evidence, Feng Yi guarded the intelligence, and Niu Gao guarded Xiangyang...

Zhijia safeguards the network.

Each person is guarding a spark.

We're just waiting for the wind to come, waiting for a single spark to ignite a prairie fire at the right moment.

The wooden bird in his hand is the key to this gust of wind.

The moment Yue Yinping knelt before the Dali Temple, and the wooden bird was activated in his hands, all the sparks were ignited simultaneously.

The wait is over.

After figuring all this out, Zhao Bozong felt a mix of emotions.

What should he do next?

Perhaps from the moment Zhao Bocong opened his eyes, he had already been drawn into this vortex.

He was a time traveler who traveled to the Southern Song Dynasty, and he was actually outmaneuvered by Yue Fei?

He smiled bitterly.

Perhaps from the moment he became Zhao Bocong, he was destined to take on this task.

The ambition of the Northern Expedition rests on your shoulders.

Zhao Bozong put down the wooden bird, looked at everything drawn on the paper, and remained silent for a long time.

Of the seven people on the list, Zhou Sanwei, Wei Shun, and Zhi Jia are all dead. The torch has now been passed to him.

Feng Yi is still in the palace, but he has already been activated. Qin Hui will inevitably affect the inner court sooner or later.

In the twelfth year of the Shaoxing era, Qin Hui was at the height of his power, and he was not someone a mere newly promoted prince could contend with.

He knew that Qin Hui would fall, and that the course of history would not be changed because of any one person.

But it was still too long before Qin Hui fell from power in history, and he couldn't wait that long, nor could he be in a hurry.

Zhao Bocong thought about it. There were too many things to do, a whole host of problems, but he still had to do them one by one.

To preserve Yue Fei's legacy and this spark of hope, we must maintain information isolation.

From now on, while activating each new recruit, you must never reveal information about others, so that even if someone is arrested, they cannot implicate others.

He couldn't allow Qin Hui's purge any opportunity; he had to exploit Qin Hui's fear.

Qin Hui thought there were twenty-three people on the list, but he didn't know that the actual number was only seven. This information asymmetry was itself a weapon.

He could send false intelligence to Qin Hui through Liu An, causing him to waste his energy investigating those non-existent names, thus buying time for Xiangyang and Zhenjiang to accumulate strength.

The fake list that Zhou Sanwei and Wei Shun risked their lives to obtain must not be wasted.

He must wait for his own opportunity.

......

February 17th, the twelfth year of Shaoxing, Lin'an.

Zhao Bocong stood in front of the Shunhe Tea Shop in the middle of the Imperial Street, holding a copper coin with a missing corner in his hand.

This copper coin was given to me by Feng Yi. Last night at midnight, a vegetable vendor passed a piece of bamboo strip through the back gate of the Prince of Puan's mansion. Only an address was written on the bamboo strip.

"Middle section of Imperial Street, Shunhe Tea Shop, secret code: a copper coin with a missing corner."

This is the key to Zhijia's network, and now that key has been handed to him.

Shunhe Tea Shop was small, with only four long tables. Zhao Bozong placed the chipped copper coin on the table.

Not long after, the waiter brought over a rough earthenware teacup, filled it about seven-tenths full with tea, and pushed it in front of Zhao Bocong.

There was something at the bottom of the bowl. Zhao Bozong calmly finished his tea, tucked the small roll of wax paper at the bottom of the bowl into his sleeve, and got up to leave.

Back at the Prince's residence, he unfolded the wax paper, inside which were copied the five nodes of the Zhijia Intelligence Network in Lin'an.

On the second page, the nodes for Jiankang and Zhenjiang are listed, with supplementary information added to the Zhenjiang node.

"Li Bao sends a ship to Lin'an Wharf every half month, not to transport goods, but to confirm that the route still exists."

In mid-February, the river wind made the cloth banners on the Lin'an wharf flutter in the breeze.

Zhao Bozong stood by the dock, watching a cargo ship that had sailed from the direction of Zhenjiang slowly dock.

The boat was small and had a shallow draft, not like it was fully loaded with cargo.

A sailor in a short brown shirt stood at the bow, peering towards the shore. Unlike the other boatmen who rushed to throw out the mooring lines, he first surveyed the dock.

Finally, his gaze lingered on a porter for a moment before moving away.

Zhao Bozong turned and left the dock. It was clearly written in Manager Wang's booklet: Li Bao's ship comes once every half month. The sailors will stay at the dock for half an hour, have a bowl of tea with the porters, and then leave.

From the eleventh year of Shaoxing in the twelfth lunar month until today, it has never been interrupted.

Now that he has seen the ship with his own eyes, it means that Li Bao's wait in Zhenjiang is still ongoing.

Every node on this network is still operating, and everyone is in their own place, doing what they are supposed to do.

It was a drizzly afternoon in late February.

When Zhao Bocong returned from listening to music in Beiwa, Liu An was sitting on the carriage shaft, chatting idly with the driver.

The carriage suddenly stopped as it turned into a narrow alley.

Zhao Bozong lifted the carriage curtain, and in the middle of the alley, several hooligans were surrounding a man.

The person surrounded was a young woman, dressed in a plain white ruqun (a type of traditional Chinese dress), the hem of which was splattered with mud, her hair was disheveled, and half of her face was covered by strands of hair hanging down.

She leaned against the alley wall, clutching a coarse cloth bundle tightly in her arms, her whole body trembling.

The leader of those hooligans was a burly, dark-skinned man who was laughing and reaching out to grab the bundle in her arms.

Zhao Bozong sat in the carriage, looking at everything before him. He didn't have much emotion; it was the instinctive caution he had developed from living under Qin Hui's nose all these days.

Such scenes of harassing women do exist, but it's not always the case that you'll happen to witness it.

But before Zhao Bocong could speak, Liu An had already jumped off the carriage shaft.

Zhao Bozong glanced at Liu An. This kid was usually meek and obedient in the Prince's mansion and never meddled in other people's business.

Today was a bit unusual; perhaps seeing how pitiful the woman looked stirred a sense of righteousness within me.

Zhao Bocong also got out of the carriage. When the ruffians saw the attire of the Prince of Puan's residence, they exchanged glances and dispersed.

The woman leaned against the wall and slowly squatted down to pick up the clothes scattered on the ground.

A faded handkerchief, half a bag of dried biscuits, and a few neatly folded old clothes.

She picked them up slowly, patting the mud and water off each item before putting it back in her bundle.