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

Wei Zhao stared at Fang Fuyao, his fingertips pausing on the imperial desk for a moment.

Her words, though not harsh, completely rejected any probing attempts made in the hall.

it is good.

It's not just about reciting Fang Zhaoru's letter.

Fang Fuyao's words made him suddenly realize that he had indeed underestimated her.

It's not because she lacks ability.

It was because she was young and a woman.

Wei Zhao cursed himself inwardly.

Good heavens, I just posted a notice to recruit talented people, saying that I would not ask about their background or social status, but now I'm using age and gender to filter people.

Fang Zhaoru's letter was full of vicious insults, but he wasn't wrong.

He placed the letter on the table, his tone softening slightly.

"Miss Fang, I misspoke just now."

Several former officials in the hall twitched their eyelids.

The emperor apologized?

Or was it for a woman who had just entered the palace?

Wei Zhao didn't bother to look at them.

An emperor who can admit his mistakes is better than a bunch of useless people who insist on making mistakes.

He looked at Fang Fuyao.

"I do not know what talents Your Excellency possesses that could save the common people?"

Fang Fuyao showed no sign of smugness after receiving this apology.

She simply raised her hand and slowly removed her veil.

The veil fell away, revealing a delicate, almost plain face.

She wasn't the kind of beauty that could captivate someone at first glance, nor was she the kind of coldness that carried a sharp edge, like Liu Jingshuang.

Her eyebrows and eyes were faint, and her expression was also indifferent, but standing there, she made it impossible for anyone to treat her as just an ornament.

Fang Fuyao spoke.

"Your Majesty, saving the world and its people is not about empty words."

She glanced at the former officials in the hall.

"It's not as simple as writing a few articles on benevolent governance in the Taiji Hall, posting a few notices to recruit talented people, and having all the officials shout 'Long live the Emperor!' and then the world will be at peace."

The faces of the former officials immediately turned ugly.

The Vice Minister of Rites couldn't help but say, "Miss Fang, watch your words! How dare you... before His Majesty..."

"Shut up."

Wei Zhao did not look at the vice minister.

The vice minister's last sentence caught in his throat, and his face turned deathly pale.

Wei Zhao felt a little better.

Well said.

If any of the officials had dared to speak like this earlier, Lu Song wouldn't have ravaged the Great Wei into such a wretched state.

Fang Fuyao continued:

"The current Xinwu Dynasty seems to have taken over the capital, established a national title, and has a guard army, a surrendered imperial guard, and fortified borders on all sides. But these are just the skeleton, not the rule."

Wei Zhao's eyelids twitched.

That hits the nail on the head.

He understands this better than anyone now. Holding the capital does not mean holding the world.

Sitting firmly on the dragon throne does not mean that the prefectures and counties will obey your commands. An imperial edict leaving the palace does not guarantee it will reach the people's pots.

Fang Fuyao took half a step forward.

"What Your Majesty can control is the capital, the palace, a few elite troops, the old guard of the Wei family, and the border regions willing to obey. But outside the capital, the prefectures may not truly listen, the powerful may not truly submit, the aristocratic families may not truly hand over grain, and the county magistrate may not dare to open the granaries."

"The ten rebel kings have carved out their own territories, and the area along Chenqiao, Bianzhou, and Chenliu has become a tangled mess. They claim to be distributing land on behalf of Heaven, but in reality, they are seizing land, grain, and people."

"The Holy Fire Cult is more troublesome."

As she spoke, her voice lowered, but became even clearer.

"They are not ordinary rebels. They are starving people, refugees, people driven to desperation by the old Wei government and powerful clans. If Your Majesty only kills them as traitors, another batch will rise up. Because they did not rebel for Zhang Yan, they rebelled for food."

Wei Zhao remained silent.

He pressed his fingers against the edge of the imperial desk, his knuckles slowly turning white.

This girl really knows her stuff.

The Ten Rebel Kings are like knives; just cut them down.

The Holy Fire Cult is fire, and beneath the fire lies dry firewood.

Even if the common people have no food, and Zhang Yan dies, Li Yan or Wang Yan will emerge.

That's what bothers him the most.

He wasn't afraid of war.

He wouldn't hesitate to kill.

But if the knife falls and it cuts down refugees who are so hungry they can't even kneel, then what's the difference between this new Wu Dynasty and the old Wei Dynasty?

Fang Fuyao looked at him.

"That's why His Majesty just asked me if I have the ability to save the people."

She shook her head.

"This humble woman has none."

The hall fell silent.

The moment a hint of mockery appeared on the face of the Vice Minister of Rites, a glance from Wei Zhao made him lower his head again.

Fang Fuyao said, "Talking about saving the common people right now is just empty talk."

This statement is even harsher than the one before.

Su Qingyun looked up at her, and Hua Jieyu's smile faded a little.

Liu Jingshuang held the hilt of the knife and did not break it.

Wei Zhao suddenly smiled.

it is good.

He is now afraid of hearing those fancy words about the people and the common folk.

Anyone can say nice things; those old fogies in the Ministry of Rites could write a hundred of them.

But when faced with empty granaries, cut-off military pay, or rebel kings blocking the roads, they are utterly useless.

Fang Fuyao's seemingly empty words actually sound like human speech.

Wei Zhao raised his hand.

"continue."

Fang Fuyao looked at the military reports and account books on the imperial desk.

"What we need to do now is not to shout about benevolent governance, not to rush to appease everyone, and certainly not to expect the Holy Flame Cult to dissipate on its own or the rebel king to repent on his own."

"We need to resolve the immediate situation first."

"Money, provisions, soldiers, and principles."

She held up four fingers.

"The imperial court is short of money. Confiscating the property of a few corrupt officials can only provide temporary relief. The four major families have already been exploited by Lu Song, and each has their own agenda; we cannot expect them to fill the national treasury."

Su Qingyun's eyes lit up.

This is not something an outsider could say.

Wei Zhao also understood.

Fang Fuyao was not fooled by the golden shell of the four families in the capital, nor by the momentum of his recent raid on their homes.

She knew that the amount of money she had could only fight a quick battle, not support the entire world.

"There is also a shortage of food."

Fang Fuyao said, "The granaries in the capital have been empty for twenty days, and the grain supply route from Jiangnan has not yet arrived. The granaries in Bianzhou have been emptied by Han Dashan. If Your Majesty's army leaves the capital, the grain supply route will be extended. The rebel king will not need to fight you to the death. As long as he intercepts grain, burns bridges, and spreads rumors along the way, the morale of the Xinwu army will be thrown into chaos first."

Wei Zhao's lips twitched slightly.

Old Zhou probably thought so too.

drag.

It dragged on until grain prices in the capital rose, until the aristocratic families adopted a wait-and-see attitude, until the Holy Fire Sect approached the capital, until the new Wu Dynasty itself could not breathe.

These people may not be good fighters, but they can be really disgusting.

Fang Fuyao continued, "The soldiers seem to be there, but not many are actually mobile. The Wei family army is to guard the capital region, and the surrendered Imperial Guard soldiers may not be entirely trustworthy. The border cannot be left empty, and the Qiang cavalry and Xianyuan cavalry have come from afar, so they also need to be provided with food and supplies."

"As for the Way."

She pointed to Chenqiao and Bianzhou on the military map.

"The road is blocked by the rebel king. The imperial edict can be sent out, but the supply convoy may not be able to get through. The Xinwu Dynasty is not lacking in the best army in the world, but rather in the money, provisions, and roads to support this army's expedition."

No one spoke in the hall.

Even a light touch of the lid against the rim of the cup produced a jarring sound.

Wei Zhao looked at her, and the initial probing in his heart turned into seriousness.

She's not here to sell her fame.

She really did look at the whole situation.

They see things even more clearly than those incompetent officials in the court.

The Ministry of Revenue would cry poverty, the Ministry of War would complain about the lack of soldiers, and the Ministry of Rites would urge themselves to blame, but only she laid out these four words: money, grain, soldiers, and morality.

This is the chessboard.

Fang Fuyao looked at Wei Zhao.

"Therefore, if Your Majesty asks me what my solution is, I will only say one thing."

Wei Zhao sat up straighter.

"explain."

Fang Fuyao said, "Use war to sustain war."

As soon as those four words were uttered, the expressions of several former officials in the hall changed drastically.

The Minister of War couldn't help but look up:

"Absurd! The national treasury is empty, and supplies are insufficient. We should be resting and recuperating, not fighting again! If we are defeated, the capital will be in danger!"

Fang Fuyao didn't even look at him.

"What will we rely on for rest and recuperation? What will we use to sustain ourselves?"

The Minister of War choked.

Fang Fuyao's voice remained steady.

"The capital's granaries hold twenty days' worth of rations, but the grain from Jiangnan has yet to arrive. The rebel king has cut off the roads, and the Holy Fire Sect is advancing north. You speak of recuperation, but do you mean the people of the capital should suffer hunger alongside you, or that the Wei family army should live off empty bowls?"

The Minister of War's face turned bright red.

Wei Zhao almost burst out laughing.

Well said.

This girl speaks calmly and patiently, but every word she utters is like a dagger to the heart.

They're much better than those in the Ministry of Rites who write articles to insult people.

Fang Fuyao looked at the military map and continued:

"Beat the richest one."

The hall fell silent once more.

Wei Zhao narrowed his eyes.

"The richest?"

Fang Fuyao raised her hand, her fingertips landing near Bianzhou.

"Han Dashan emptied the granaries of Bianzhou, Zhou Laodao plundered the powerful families of three counties, and the ten rebel kings have just raised their armies. What they lack most is not money and food, but legitimacy and time. They must be hoarding the grain and silver they have plundered in the central army and several key locations, preparing to recruit soldiers while delaying the imperial court."

"They thought His Majesty was short of food and dared not send troops."

She looked up.

"Then let's do the opposite, and take a bite when they're at their most vulnerable."