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

Wei Zhao's gaze fell on the black bamboo tube. The warmth that had just risen in the Imperial Study because of the "Teacher Training Department" was instantly drained, leaving only a cold, deathly silence.

Black sealing wax.

He reached out and took the bamboo tube, feeling its coolness with his fingertips.

Fang Fuyao didn't say anything more, but stepped aside and waited quietly.

She knew that from this moment on, everything—schools, teachers, new policies—had to temporarily give way to this small bamboo tube.

Wei Zhao didn't use any tools; he simply used his thumb to break through the hard sealing wax.

The crisp cracking sound was particularly jarring in the quiet hall.

He pulled out the letter, which was rolled into a thin scroll, and slowly unrolled it.

The handwriting on the paper was messy and hurried, carrying a bloody scent, as if the person writing the letter was being hunted down.

Wei Zhao's gaze swept down line by line, his expression unchanged, but the clarity that had just been ignited in his eyes by his conception of new policies was gradually being replaced by an unfathomable darkness.

"Yangguan, three days ago, a caravan entered, consisting of seventeen people, sixteen dead and one seriously wounded."

"The leader, Zhou Tong, said before he died: 'An army has come from the west, flying a black flag, unlike anyone we've ever seen before...'"

"A relic, a bronze medal."

Wei Zhao put down the letter and poured the bronze plaque out of the bamboo tube.

The bronze medal felt cold to the touch and had a heavy texture.

The front was engraved with a distorted script he had never seen before, like some kind of talisman.

On the back is a ferocious wolf head totem, with rough lines and full of primal killing intent.

Wolf head.

It's wolves again.

But this totem is more ferocious and more ancient than the totem of the Northern Snow Wolf Tribe.

"Do you recognize the characters on this?" Wei Zhao handed the bronze plaque to Fang Fuyao.

Fang Fuyao took it, examined it carefully for a moment, frowned slightly, and finally shook her head.

"It is not any kind of script found on the grasslands."

Her voice was a few decibels lower than usual: "It sounds like... something further west."

Further west.

Wei Zhao's gaze fell once again on the huge map on the wall.

West of Yangguan lies the vast Gobi Desert, a land historically known as the "Western Regions".

There were once prosperous city-states there, and caravans came and went, but with the decline of the previous dynasty and hundreds of years of war, the connection between the Central Plains and that land has long been severed.

Now, a bloody wind blows from that forgotten land.

"The flower understands words, Nie Yinniang is a wise woman."

Wei Zhao's voice was cold and devoid of any emotion.

The eunuch accepted the order and left.

Silence fell once more in the imperial study. Wei Zhao felt no panic, only a suppressed irritation.

It's like a farmer who has just painstakingly cleared all the weeds from his field, preparing to grow new seedlings, only to find a swarm of locusts devouring his crops on the other side of the land.

Moreover, it was a swarm of locusts he had never seen before, and he didn't know what medicine to use to kill them.

Soon, two figures slipped silently into the hall, one after the other.

Hua Jieyu was still dressed in a well-tailored brocade robe, her eyebrows and eyes carrying a touch of lazy charm, but her eyes were sharp as knives.

Nie Yinniang hid behind her, dressed in a black night outfit that allowed for easy movement. She seemed to blend into the shadows of the hall, and her presence was almost imperceptible unless one looked closely.

"Your Majesty," Hua Jieyu bowed.

Without wasting any words, Wei Zhao threw the bronze plaque and the secret letter in front of her.

Hua Jieyu stepped forward, picked up the bronze plaque and the letter, and after just one glance, the languidness on her face vanished instantly, replaced by a solemn expression.

"Investigate," Wei Zhao said, uttering only one word.

Hua Jieyu understood immediately.

"Your subject understands."

She clutched the bronze token tightly in her hand: "Within three days, the Embroidered Uniform Guard will investigate the origin of this token, find out which route this caravan named Zhou Tong returned from, and find out if there are any other caravans that have returned alive within three thousand miles west of Yangguan."

This is the efficiency of the Embroidered Uniform Guard.

Just as Hua Jieyu was about to accept her orders and leave, Nie Yinniang, who had been standing in the shadows, suddenly took a step forward.

"I'll go to Yangguan."

Her voice was soft and cold, like two blocks of ice rubbing together, yet it conveyed an undeniable decisiveness.

Hua Jieyu turned around and glanced at her.

Nie Yinniang stared directly at Wei Zhao, her face expressionless, as if she were talking about something completely ordinary.

"If a fight really breaks out, I need to know who the other side is first."

Before killing, she must first see her prey clearly. This was her instinct as a top assassin.

Wei Zhao looked at her, the woman whom Seventh Brother had rescued from the assassin organization years ago, who had now become the sharpest and most trustworthy blade in his hand.

"Take three skilled men with you." Wei Zhao nodded. "Be careful."

"Yes," Nie Yinniang replied, then retreated back into the shadows as if she had never appeared.

Hua Jieyu bowed to Wei Zhao again, then turned and quickly left.

As she reached the palace entrance, she whispered to the shadow beside her, "Come back alive."

A very soft "hmm" came from the shadows.

The next day, before dawn.

A troop of fast horses galloped out of the west gate of the capital, their hooves kicking up the morning mist, and soon disappeared at the end of the official road.

Wei Zhao stood atop the high palace wall, watching those few small black dots disappear into the distance.

The autumn wind howled, causing the hem of his plain white robes to flutter.

A very light footstep sound came from behind.

Liu Jingshuang, holding Wei Heng who was just a month old, slowly walked to his side.

She wore a thick cloak, which wrapped herself and the child in her arms completely.

"I just had a baby, so I'm showing you this." Wei Zhao didn't turn around, her voice carrying a hint of apology.

Liu Jingshuang followed his gaze to the distant west, where the horizon was a hazy gray and nothing could be seen.

She looked down at her son, who was sleeping soundly in her arms. The little guy's face was rosy, and he had smacked his lips twice.

"When you first went to the battlefield, wasn't I also on the city wall of Yanmen Pass, watching you charge in alone?"

Liu Jingshuang's voice was calm, as if she were talking about an old story that had nothing to do with her.

"I've gotten used to it."

Wei Zhao turned his head and looked at her.

As dawn broke, the light illuminated her still aloof profile, casting a soft glow over her sharp features.

She was no longer the prickly female general, but a mother and a wife.

He reached out and took her hand, the one holding the child.

Her hands were cold, but strong.

Liu Jingshuang didn't speak, but instead gripped his hand tightly in return.

The two stood side by side, looking into the distance.

One gazes at the western frontier where war is about to erupt, the other at the new life in his arms that symbolizes the future.