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

The summer of the third year of Xinwu passed faster than Wei Zhao had anticipated.

News from the Western Regions gradually became scarce after July.

After Fang Zhaoru followed the White Wolf tribe into the depths of the vast sea, the last letter he sent home to let them know he was safe was delivered half a month ago through an unknown post station. After that, there was no further news.

Wei Zhao was not surprised by this.

In that vast Gobi Desert, post stations were scarce, and sometimes it would take ten days or half a month to see no sign of human habitation.

No message, in a way, is the best message.

This at least shows that the procession heading west did not turn back, nor did it stop.

In contrast to the silence in the west, the schools in the capital were bustling with activity.

The booklet handed over by the white-robed national advisor, Fang Fuyao, stated that the first batch of two hundred students had completed their six-month basic coursework.

From classical texts to mathematics, from law to geomancy, although they only learned the basics, a dozen or so promising talents have already emerged.

Fang Fuyao meant that the first graduation assessment could be held after autumn.

Those who do well on the exam can advance to more specialized subjects; those who do not do well will continue to build a solid foundation.

Wei Zhao granted his request.

Looking at the names still smelling of ink on the booklet, he knew very well that these children were the true foundation that the Xinwu Dynasty could rely on for decades to come.

The roots are taking hold in the west, and the seedlings are being nurtured in the capital; everything seems to be moving in a positive direction.

But when he opened another stack of military reports from the southeast, that sense of security was diluted.

The first letter was from Shang Wanqing, sent from the Quanzhou shipyard. The letter paper had a faint smell of tung oil, and the handwriting was still so stiff, each stroke as if it had been written with a carving knife, revealing the stubbornness unique to craftsmen.

"The fifteenth fast ship has been built. The keel has been reinforced, the hull has been narrowed, and the three masts have been tilted forward. After three near-sea trials, it has been confirmed that the top speed in the downwind is 20% and 50% faster than the batch of old ships of Ke Zhenchuan."

At the end of the letter, Shang Wanqing added a sentence in heavier handwriting.

"If we meet again, he won't be able to escape."

Wei Zhao looked at that sentence and the corners of his mouth lifted slightly, but he quickly regained his composure.

He believed in Shang Wanqing's abilities and in the ships she built.

Fifteen fast ships capable of catching up with the enemy's main force constitute a formidable force.

But his opponent was Ke Zhenchuan.

Wei Zhao placed Shang Wanqing's letter under the paperweight and picked up the second military report.

This was sent by Liu Jingshuang from the central military tent in Yuezhou. The paper was clean, the handwriting was elegant, and the content was very formal, all about military affairs.

"The central command tent in Yuezhou has been put into use and can accommodate 30,000 troops, with enough food and supplies for half a year. Cavalry battalions of 3,000 men have been set up in Quanzhou and Mingzhou respectively, and the central command will coordinate the deployment. The beacon towers along the 300-mile coastline have been fully repaired and 120 additional sentry posts have been added, which can ensure that if any part of the three prefectures along the coast is attacked, the alarm will be transmitted back to the central command within two hours."

After reading it, Wei Zhao gently tapped the location of Yuezhou on the map with his finger.

Liu Jingshuang's defenses, like the person herself, were calm and meticulous, leaving no obvious flaws.

In the shortest amount of time, she transformed the entire coastline of the three southeastern states into a taut bowstring.

But this bow can only wait for the enemy to run into it now.

Throughout July, the southeastern coast was unusually calm.

With the absence of pirate raids on villages and towns, fishermen rarely saw those dilapidated boats flying skull and crossbones flags when they went out to sea.

However, another secret report sent from Mingzhou by the Embroidered Uniform Guard revealed that this calm was merely an illusion.

"In the past half month, the Quanzhou fast boat fleet encountered unidentified small boats three times while conducting trial voyages off the coast of Mingzhou. The other boats were old and disguised as fishing boats, but the people on board were all strong men. When our fleet approached, they immediately turned and sailed into the deep sea. We tried to give chase, but although the other boats were not as fast as our new boats, they were very familiar with the currents and always managed to escape by using the islands and reefs as cover."

The secret report ended with a judgment that Shang Wanqing had sent back through the Embroidered Uniform Pavilion.

"They're watching. They're measuring how long our knives are. When they've had their fill of watching, they'll make their move."

Wei Zhao closed the secret report, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes.

He pieced together the three pieces of information in his mind.

Ke Zhenchuan spent several months licking his wounds in the South China Sea islands, and his remaining 7,000 troops had recovered.

Instead of rushing back, he sent out his most experienced sailors, like scouts sent by a wolf pack, to probe and observe Xinwu's defenses again and again.

They were observing how many ships Xinwu had, how fast they were moving, where the defenses were laid out, and which port was the weakest.

Ke Zhenchuan was very patient.

This kind of patience is more terrifying than a direct northward march.

He was waiting for the perfect moment, for a gap that could deliver a fatal blow.

Wei Zhao opened his eyes and looked out the window of the study.

The setting sun of late summer was slowly sinking behind the western palace walls, dyeing the clouds on the horizon a rich orange-red, like a burning battle flag.

From the arrival of the White Wolf tribe leader in the capital to Fang Zhaoru's westward journey, the game in the west was fraught with difficulty, but ultimately a few pieces were successfully captured.

Once the roads are open and people's hearts are at ease, all that's left is time.

But on the eastern sea, a storm is silently brewing that could engulf everything at any moment.

Wei Zhao knew very well that he couldn't wait.

We can't wait until Ke Zhenchuan "has seen enough," we can't wait until he finds that opening.

The new Wu dynasty has just gained a foothold, and the southeast is a crucial area for revenue and taxes; it cannot afford to be dragged into a protracted tug-of-war.

He got up and walked to the imperial desk.

On the table, a map of the Western Regions and a nautical chart of the Southeast were laid out side by side, like two doors to the Xinwu Dynasty court, one leading to the vast desert sands and the other facing the raging waves.

Wei Zhao stood silently for a long time, then picked up his vermilion brush.

He did not write lengthy annotations in any military newspaper, nor did he immediately issue orders to mobilize troops.

He simply wrote a single word on the near-perfect southeastern defense deployment map presented by Liu Jingshuang.

Prepare.

This word is not simply about preparation.

It means that all plans should be made in advance. Don't wait any longer to do what you can.

The order was to have Shang Wanqing's shipyard work day and night to build the sixteenth and seventeenth ships as quickly as possible.

This allowed Liu Jingshuang's cavalry to shift from passive defense to active patrol, extending their reconnaissance range forward by fifty miles.

The goal was to have the Embroidered Uniform Guard's spies infiltrate the islands of the South China Sea, even if it was just to bring back an uncertain message.

Wei Zhao put down his pen and looked at the still-wet ink on the paper.

He will not give Ke Zhenchuan the opportunity to make a plan at his own pace.

If you want to see it, I will let you see it.

But what you see is what I want you to see.

When you think you've seen it clearly and are ready to take action, you'll find that what you've bumped into isn't a wall, but a row of knives already pointed at you.