A family of loyal martyrs, starting with nine wives to continue the family line.

The Minister of Rites kowtowed to the ground, his voice trembling.

"Your Majesty, please determine the name of the nation."

Wei Zhao had just put on his dragon robe and hadn't even recovered from the cheers in front of the ancestral hall when this sentence made his eyelids twitch.

Good guy.

The trouble started as soon as I put on the clothes.

He looked down at the Ministry of Rites officials kneeling below the steps.

The old man's forehead was covered with blue bricks, and his back was hunched so low that his face was almost invisible.

Several vice ministers from the Ministry of Rites were also kneeling beside him, holding ceremonial books, imperial edicts, and enthronement rituals in their hands, as if they had been prepared in advance and were just waiting for his nod.

Wei Zhao sneered inwardly.

These people were preparing the "Great Zhou" rites for Lu Song yesterday, and today they can give him a new set.

That's fast.

It's so fast it's nauseating.

Disgusting as it may be, we can't just kick away the rules of etiquette and law.

The empire had just been shattered, the capital had just been pacified, Lu Song was still bound in the Taiji Hall, the surrendered Imperial Guards had not yet been assigned to camps, and the leaders of the eighteen rebel armies were all watching to see how he would take over the empire.

The country's name is not a single character.

It was to tell the world that the old Wei dynasty was gone, and that damned Zhou dynasty of Lu Song was also gone.

Now, whose world is it?

The Minister of Rites saw that he was silent, and sweat broke out on his back.

"Your Majesty, the former Wei dynasty has lost its virtue, and the traitor Lu usurped the throne; it cannot be used. We have proposed several names for the new dynasty, and we request Your Majesty's approval."

A court official crawled forward on his knees and held the folding tablet above his head.

Wei Zhao took it and glanced at it.

"scene."

"Cheng."

"Dry."

"install."

It's all about being safe and secure.

So cautious it was devoid of any youthful vigor.

As Wei Zhao looked at those words, his agitation intensified.

It's the same old story again. The world is already so rotten, yet they still try to cover it up with a nice-sounding word.

What scenery?

What's wrong with An?

Could people who starved to death in Qingzhou be resurrected from their graves because of the word "peace"?

He closed the folding box.

The Minister of Rites shrugged.

Wei Zhao said calmly:

"We don't need these."

"The national title is Xinwu."

The Minister of Rites was taken aback.

"New... Takeru?"

Wei Zhao looked at him.

"A new dynasty has been established, and the world has been pacified by force. The borders are not yet pacified, and the foreign tribes have not yet been eliminated. If the people are to live, someone must first wield the sword firmly."

He paused, his voice not loud, but clear enough for everyone below to hear.

"From this day forward, the reign title shall be changed to Xinwu."

The Minister of Rites immediately kowtowed.

"I obey your decree! In the first year of Xinwu, Your Majesty is wise!"

The Minister of Rites picked up another booklet, his voice even lower.

"Since Your Majesty has just ascended the throne, your title should be determined as soon as possible so that it can be announced to the world."

Wei Zhao frowned.

"A title?"

The Minister of Rites had an even lower forehead.

"We, your humble servants, believe that Your Majesty quelled the rebellion by force and established the dynasty through military might, and should therefore be honored as... the New Martial Emperor."

When Zhou Laodao heard this outside, he opened his mouth and almost laughed out loud, but Han Dashan quickly covered his mouth.

Wei Zhao almost choked as well.

Emperor Xinwu.

That sounds really scary.

But he didn't refuse. Not because he liked it, but because he needed that intimidating title right now.

After Lu Song usurped the throne, he still dared to call himself the Emperor of the Great Zhou. If he were to feign politeness at this time, the people below would start to have all sorts of wild thoughts.

When it's time to establish authority, you can't be weak.

Wei Zhao raised his hand.

"allow."

The Minister of Rites, feeling as if he had been given a second chance at life, quickly kowtowed.

"Your Majesty, I will now arrange the enthronement ceremony, offer sacrifices to Heaven and Earth, and issue the imperial edict!"

……

That night.

The lights in the Imperial Study were always on.

Wei Zhao sat behind his desk, still wearing his dragon robe.

It wasn't that he didn't want to change, but Su Qingyun stopped him.

"Your Majesty should get used to it before the enthronement edict is issued."

Wei Zhao glanced at her.

"Qingyun, you're calling His Majesty quite smoothly now."

Su Qingyun smiled gently.

"Habits also need to be cultivated."

Wei Zhao's lips twitched.

it is good.

One by one, they all started.

Liu Jingshuang sat on the left, a long sword resting across her lap.

A map of the capital region and various prefectures and military towns was laid out in front of Huo Qingluan.

Shang Wanqing was holding a roll of military equipment, her brows furrowed so deeply they could trap a mosquito.

Hua Jieyu leaned against the lamp, flipping through notes sent by spies from various states.

Nie Yinniang leaned against the shadows, barely speaking.

Xiao Guanyin and Tuoba Yue sat close together, while Xie Daoning placed his medicine box at his feet, keeping a close eye on Tuoba Yue's expression.

Wei Zhao glanced around, feeling both somewhat depressed and somewhat reassured.

What's frustrating is that this country is riddled with holes.

The good thing is that at least these people are still here.

He spoke.

"Let's talk about money and supplies first."

Su Qingyun pushed the account book onto the table.

"The capital's treasury has been severely damaged by Lu Song. There is still silver, but not much grain. The Imperial Guard's 100,000 surrendered soldiers need to be fed, as do the Wei Family Army, the Righteous Army, the Western Qiang Cavalry, and the Xianyuan Cavalry. The White Bone Tomb and East Wind Valley still have garrison troops. If we can only protect 300,000 elite troops, the finances of Jiangnan can hold on."

Wei Zhao looked at the numbers in the ledger, his brows slowly furrowing.

"Only 300,000 insured?"

Su Qingyun nodded.

"Yes. Three hundred thousand elite troops, with their pay, provisions, and armor repairs, can last until the autumn harvest. Any more than that, and it will threaten the foundation of the Jiangnan trade routes and salt tax."

She paused, then lowered her voice.

"Zhao'er, Jiangnan is also hurt. Lu Song has been levying taxes too heavily these years. The salt merchants can send grain because they bet on you to win, not because their own granaries are empty. If we continue to levy taxes now, they will listen, but it will hurt them deeply."

Wei Zhao tapped his fingers on the imperial desk.

That's not a nice thing to say.

But it's true.

Conquering the world relies on passion, ruling the world relies on accounts.

Without food, let alone 300,000 elite troops, even 30,000 could bankrupt the capital.

He knew very well that he couldn't drain the resources of Jiangnan so soon after ascending the throne.

Otherwise, if Lu Song dies and a new Lu Song appears, how can we have the face to tell the people about a peaceful life?

"Secure 300,000 first."

Wei Zhaodao:

"The remaining surrendered soldiers should be screened. Those who wish to return to their fields should be given provisions for their journey, and those who wish to join the army should be reorganized. No entire battalion should be allowed to retain its original unit number."

Hua Jieyu then looked up.

"And there are also the Eighteen Route Army rebels."

The imperial study fell silent for a moment.

Wei Zhao looked at her.

Hua Jieyu placed several sheets of paper on the table.

"Among these leaders, people like Zhou Laodao, Han Dashan, Zhao Qiniang, and Li Huai are those who fought their way up with us. But the others are different."

She tapped the paper with her fingertip.

"Some were forced to rebel, some were local powerful figures who changed hands, and some had men and grain in their hands and originally wanted to establish their own independent regimes. Before, everyone's common enemy was Lu Song, so they could sit at the same table. Now that Lu Song has fallen and you have become the emperor, they will settle a different score."

Wei Zhao remained silent.

Of course he knew.

They call each other brothers when they rebel, but not necessarily when it comes to granting official positions.

The Eighteen Route Army was not made of iron.

Some people are truly risking their lives for the people, while others just see that the Great Wei is rotten and want to take a bite.

He was able to keep them in check before because he was good at fighting, winning, and leading them to Beijing.

We've now entered Beijing.

When the blade is facing outwards, everyone works together.

Once the knife is sheathed, whoever sits in which chair will be killed.

Huo Qingluan suddenly spoke.

"The rewards should not be meager."

Wei Zhao looked at her.

Huo Qingluan stared at the map of the military towns, her fingers pressing on several prefectures.

"If it's too thin, it will rebound."

These words immediately drew the attention of several people in the Imperial Study.

Huo Qingluan did not look up.

"They just finished fighting in the capital, they have troops at their disposal, and their soldiers are waiting for rewards. If you only give them empty titles, they'll think you're going to discard them after they've served their purpose."

"After all, they were just an allied force before, but now that you've become the new emperor, they're very likely to be resentful."

Wei Zhao's eyelid twitched.

Huo Qingluan speaks without any embellishment.

But the straighter the line, the more accurate it is.