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

Old Zhou pressed the tip of his knife onto the map, then suddenly raised his wine bowl.

"Gentlemen."

Several rebel kings inside the room looked over at the same time.

Old Zhou grinned, his usual roguishness gone, replaced by an uncontrollable greed.

"Wei Zhao is short of money, food, and soldiers, and he also has to guard against the Holy Fire Cult. At this point, what can he use to attack us?"

Han Dashan's eyes lit up immediately.

Correct.

That's the sentence.

He was still feeling a bit overwhelmed by Wei Zhao's recent victories.

White Bone Tomb, East Wind Valley, outside the capital city—which of these wasn't a tough battle?

Wei Zhao was so ruthless in battle that just thinking of his name sent chills down one's spine.

But things are different now.

No matter how fierce the battle, people still need to eat.

Wei Zhao couldn't possibly use the imperial robe as food to feed his soldiers.

Han Dashan picked up his wine bowl and slammed it hard on the table.

"Well said!"

He didn't wipe the spilled wine off the back of his hand.

"If Wei Zhao wants to be emperor, let him be. I won't stop him. But he wants to control the entire country and make us brothers who fought so hard to win this land go back to being worthless marquises? Dream on!"

The smiles on the faces of the rebel kings finally disappeared.

Someone immediately chimed in.

"King Han is right! We are attacking Lu Song to distribute land to all people, not to give Wei Zhao a new throne!"

These words made the atmosphere in the room even warmer.

Upon hearing the words "King Han," Han Dashan felt a sudden release of the pent-up emotion that had been building up in his chest.

king.

That makes sense.

What Marquis of Pingyuan, what Four Garrisons? Just hearing about them makes me feel frustrated.

Han Dashan crawled out of the mine, leading a group of people from Black Mountain Fortress, bleeding all the way. Was it all just to obtain an imperial edict from Wei Zhao?

impossible.

Looking at everyone's expressions, Zhou Laodao sneered inwardly.

These people talk about the world, but all they care about is territory.

But he was the same.

No one should complain about who is dirty.

They used to follow Wei Zhao because Wei Zhao could win and lead them into the capital.

Now that the capital has been captured, Lu Song is bound, and someone is sitting on the dragon throne, it's time to divide the spoils.

If Wei Zhao refuses to give it to them, they will take it themselves.

One by one, the wine bowls were raised.

Someone shouted, "Let all the kings rule together!"

Someone shouted, "To divide the world equally!"

Han Dashan raised his bowl, making the loudest noise.

"To hell with the marquis! I'm going to be king!"

Old Zhou also raised his wine bowl.

He didn't shout.

He looked at the capital city on the map and slowly made plans in his mind.

Wei Zhao, oh Wei Zhao.

You were too eager to become emperor.

It's easy to sit on the dragon throne, but it's not so easy to sit firmly on it.

The wine bowls clinked together.

Some people were laughing so hard their faces turned bright red.

Some people have already started arguing about which state will belong to whom in the future.

No one mentioned ordinary people anymore.

No one mentioned the remains of those who followed them out of Dongfeng Valley and hadn't even had a chance to receive their compensation.

Qingzhou.

The main altar of the Holy Flame Cult.

Zhang Yan sat on the high platform, with a dark mass of people kneeling in front of him.

They called him the Wise Teacher of Peace.

When the nickname first came out, Zhang Yan found it somewhat amusing.

A wise teacher?

He used to be just a failed scholar who had told fortunes, written accounts for local gentry, and even witnessed a family of seven hanged from a dilapidated roof during a famine.

Later he understood.

In this world, reasoning is useless.

If you tell the people that the imperial court will provide disaster relief, they won't believe you.

You tell the people that the new emperor will give them land, but they can't wait.

If you give them a bowl of porridge and tell them it was bestowed by the sacred fire, they will kneel down.

The kneeling was done with genuine sincerity.

Zhang Yan looked down at the people below the stage.

The crowd included old people, women, deserters, refugees, mothers dragging their children, tenants with broken arms, and many young men who had just escaped from the estates of powerful families.

Three hundred thousand.

That's not all.

People come every day.

Some come for food, some for land, and some just want to find a way to survive.

The Holy Fire Cult gave them an explanation.

The old Wei Dynasty had no way.

Xinwu lost his virtue.

The world should return to the sacred flame.

How simple.

It's much easier to understand than those imperial edicts.

One of the altar masters knelt below the stage, his voice filled with emotion.

"My esteemed teacher, twenty-one of the thirty-seven counties in Qingzhou have responded. Refugees from Yuzhou are also heading our way. In Yanzhou, three county government offices have been burned down, and the heads of the county magistrates have been hung on the city gates."

The congregation immediately shouted.

"The sacred flame will never be extinguished!"

"Peace has descended upon the world!"

Zhang Yan raised his hand.

The shouting gradually subsided.

He liked this feeling.

It's not because of its prestige.

It's because he finally saw something that could overturn this rotten world.

It's not a knife.

They are hungry people.

These people usually bend over to farm, pay taxes to the government, and serve as beasts of burden to powerful figures; they seem to be the most honest.

But once they realize they can't survive on their knees, they become more terrifying than anyone else.

Lu Song didn't understand.

Emperor Yuanxi did not understand.

Even Wei Zhao might not understand.

Wei Zhao was able to kill Wang Jing, subdue the Imperial Guards, and wear a dragon robe to sit in the Taiji Hall.

But can he feed 300,000 hungry people immediately?

No.

That's enough.

Zhang Yan spoke, his voice not loud, but it carried far.

"Emperor Xinwu said he wanted peace and tranquility for the world."

No one in the audience responded.

Zhang Yan smiled.

"Have you all eaten your fill?"

Some people in the crowd had red eyes.

"No!"

Do you have any land?

"No!"

"Don't you need to sell your children?"

A woman, cradling a child who was nothing but skin and bones, cried out, "Teacher, save me!"

Zhang Yan stood up.

"So, what are the differences between the new Wu Dynasty and the old Wei Dynasty?"

These words caused an uproar among the crowd.

"No difference!"

"All emperors are the same!"

"The Olympic flame is the real one!"

As Zhang Yan watched this scene, his hand in his sleeve slowly clenched.

It became.

Once people's hearts are set ablaze, it's a fire that no county or prefecture can extinguish.

One of the altar masters crawled forward on his knees.

"My esteemed teacher, should we take Yanzhou first, and then press on Bianzhou?"

Zhang Yan shook his head.

"Too slow."

The altar master was stunned.

Zhang Yan looked north.

"The ten rebel kings will tie down Wei Zhao's supply lines. The capital is short of food, the old officials are unstable, and the powerful families are watching and waiting. If we continue to slowly attack the prefectures and counties at this time, we are just giving Wei Zhao a chance to breathe."

The forum master's throat tightened.

"What does 'wise teacher' mean?"

Zhang Yan raised his hand and pointed in the direction of Kyoto.

"Straight to Kyoto."

There was a moment of silence in the audience, followed by a surge of shouts.

"Straight to Kyoto!"

"Straight to Kyoto!"

"Execute Xinwu!"

"Welcome the Olympic Flame!"

Zhang Yan did not stop him.

That's the spirit he's been craving.

The refugees from Qingzhou, Yuzhou, and Yanzhou have been forced into a corner.

Give them a direction, and they'll charge forward. How many people will die?

Many will die.

But in this world, when does anyone not die?

Dying on the road at least allows the living to see the granaries and fields.

Zhang Yan looked down at the sacred fire talisman drawn on yellow paper in his hand.

He knew he was lying.

All that talisman water, all that resurrection, all that sacred fire descending upon the world—it's all fake.

But is the government's benevolent rule genuine?

Was the emperor's promise true?

Is the powerful man's kindness genuine?

Since it's all a scam, let's see who can scam a bite to eat.

"Pass on the order."

As soon as Zhang Yan finished speaking, the several altar masters immediately bowed down.

"Within three days, Huangtan of Qingzhou, Chitan of Yuzhou, and Heitan of Yanzhou will join forces and march north."

"They opened granaries along the way, burned land deeds, killed county officials who resisted orders, and coerced displaced people."

Tell everyone.

He paused.

"Follow the Olympic torch, and you'll have food to eat."

The altar masters kowtowed in unison.

"In accordance with the teachings of our virtuous teacher!"