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

……

Kyoto, Weifu.

The old lady folded the letter in her hand and put it into her sleeve.

The letter arrived three days ago from the direction of Yumen Pass, using a secret network established by Su Qingyun in Jiangnan, and traveled through most of the Great Wei before finally reaching her.

Wei Zhao has already led her troops to the outskirts of Yumen Pass. The army of 230,000 is more than she expected.

This child is more troublesome than her older brothers.

Although she hadn't been by his side since he was a child, the old lady could now clearly sense that Wei Zhao was a descendant of the Wei family!

He was just as outstanding as his father and brothers.

Even better!

The old matriarch sat on a grand chair in the main hall of the Wei residence, her cane resting beside her knees.

The lights in the main hall were not bright; only two oil lamps were lit, casting a mixture of light and shadow on her wrinkled face.

She was doing the accounting.

It's not a financial account, it's a political one.

The great victory at Yanmen Pass resulted in the annihilation of 500,000 Northern Rong troops.

More than half a month has passed since the news reached Kyoto, and the entire imperial court has been turned upside down.

The attitudes of the officials in the prefectures along the way, on the way back to the capital, spoke volumes – some fawned over her, some tested her, and some watched from afar, not daring to approach.

These people are trendsetters.

They bend whichever way the wind blows.

The current winds are in the Wei family's favor.

Five hundred thousand.

This number is so large that Lu Song can't suppress it even if he wants to.

The stories had long been circulating in teahouses and taverns among the common people, with tales like "Young Master Wei, riding a white horse and wielding a silver spear, slays the King of the Northern Rong" and "The Wei family widow supports half the country." The stories told by the storytellers were increasingly outrageous, but the common people loved to listen.

If the people like to listen, it means that the people's hearts are with Weijia.

This is something Lu Song couldn't buy even with money.

The old lady rubbed her thumb on the end of her cane twice.

But having the support of the people is not enough.

Those civil officials in the imperial court, while professing loyalty to the emperor and patriotism, were all harboring their own selfish motives.

To win them over, you need to give them a reason to stand on your side and defend your home—a reason that won't lead to retaliation later.

The victory at Yanmen Pass was the first step.

Yumen Pass is the second step.

As long as Wei Zhao wins another decent victory in the west, the Wei family will be the heroes who prolong the life of the Great Wei Dynasty, and a true pillar supporting the heavens.

By then, no matter how much Emperor Yuanxi feared them, he would not dare to take action against the Wei family in front of the world.

Those upright officials thus gained the confidence to take sides.

At least... we can remain invincible.

The old lady narrowed her eyes slightly.

invincible position.

These four words sound pathetic, but having lived for sixty-five years, she understood one thing all too well—revenge is not as simple as rushing up with a knife and hacking people to pieces.

Lu Song had cultivated his influence for over twenty years, establishing deep roots and having his cronies spread throughout the Six Ministries and Nine Temples of the court.

To topple this big tree, you have to dig away the soil beneath its feet, shovel by shovel.

It can't be rushed.

"Tomorrow morning court session."

The old lady's lips moved, her voice so low it sounded like she was talking to herself.

She wanted to go to the Hall of Supreme Harmony in person.

As a first-rank imperial consort, she would have a go at that old dog in front of the entire court.

Not for any other reason than to let everyone see clearly—the Wei family has not collapsed, and the people of the Wei family are still standing.

……

Prime Minister's House.

"Bang!"

A blue-and-white porcelain teacup from an official kiln was smashed on the ground, scattering fragments everywhere.

Lu Song stood in the center of the study, his chest heaving violently.

He is fifty-eight years old this year. He is well-maintained and usually looks no more than forty years old. He has a fair complexion, a long beard, and an elegant demeanor.

But at this moment, his face was contorted beyond recognition, and the veins on his forehead were throbbing high.

"waste!"

He wasn't scolding the servants.

He was cursing Shigeru Inuyasha.

An army of 500,000 men, known as the most ferocious cavalry on the grasslands, was surrounded and annihilated before they even reached the gates of Yanmen Pass.

That idiot, Shigeru Inuyasha, was actually killed on the battlefield by a sickly guy who crawled out of a Taoist temple?

Lu Song's hands were trembling.

It wasn't fear, it was anger.

How much effort did he put in?

He even went so far as to secretly contact the Northern Rong and send messages to Quan Ya Mao, informing him of the troop deployment, food reserves, and weaknesses of the city's defenses at Yanmen Pass.

The purpose was to make the Northern Rong and the Wei family wear each other down, ideally resulting in their mutual destruction.

The death of Wei's nine sons in battle was all part of his plan.

Without the men in the Wei family, those widows won't last long.

Once the Northern Rong have breached the pass, the court will then "heartbroken" posthumously honor the Wei family as loyal martyrs, and then naturally reclaim military power in the northern border.

The Wei family's assets, connections, and military achievements will all become ownerless.

When the time comes, who will get a piece of this meat?

It was naturally Lu Song.

But now it's all over.

Wei Zhao.

Lu Song paced back and forth in his study, each step accompanied by a piercing cracking sound from the broken porcelain shards beneath his feet.

He didn't know this person.

Wei's tenth son was sent to a Taoist temple at a young age. He was frail and sickly. In Lu Song's intelligence network, this person was only noted with four words: "Not worth worrying about".

The result was that this "not a cause for concern" thing was used to kill the enemy's enemy leader, Momo, and annihilate 500,000.

Even worse, the old lady returned to the capital.

Lu Song stopped and stared intently at the newly delivered message on his desk.

Lady Shen of the Wei family arrived in the capital three days ago and has taken up residence at the Wei residence. Tomorrow morning, she will have an audience with the emperor as a first-rank imperial consort.

This old woman. Lu Song's teeth ached.

His feud with the Wei family has been going on for a long time.

Thirty years ago.

Lu Song closed his eyes, and that scene, like a red-hot branding iron, was etched into his mind for thirty years.

During the Jingyuan era, in the Hall of Supreme Harmony.

He was the top scholar in that examination. At the age of twenty-eight, he was riding high, his name appearing on the golden list of successful candidates, and he was personally selected by the emperor.

How many people envy him?

How many people fawned over him?

That day, he wore a brand-new scholar's robe, rode a tall horse, and walked around Zhuque Street, drawing huge crowds.

He thought his good days had finally arrived.

As a result, at the court meeting that afternoon, that old man from the Wei family—Wei Zhao's biological father—was present.

In front of the late emperor and all the officials, he walked up to him and, without saying a word, slapped him across the face.

That slap made him see stars, and his scholar's hat flew off.

Then the burly warrior with a face full of scars turned around, cupped his hands to the late emperor, and spoke so loudly that the entire Hall of Supreme Harmony echoed.

"Your Majesty, this man is fickle and has changed tutors three times before the imperial examinations. He's a treacherous wretch who can't be tamed."

"Your Majesty, I urge you to exercise caution in employing this person."

The court was completely silent.

The late emperor glanced at him but said nothing.

But that slap and those words effectively ended his career.

The late emperor did not give him an important position. The Ministry of Personnel also heard the news and sent him to be the magistrate of a remote and impoverished county.

That year, he was twenty-eight years old, and he fell from the clouds into the mud.

For the next ten years, he struggled in the mud, scheming, flattering, and resorting to any means necessary.

Finally, amidst the chaos of the late emperor's death and the princes' struggle for the throne, they seized the opportunity.

He made the right bet.

When Emperor Yuanxi was still a prince, no one had high hopes for him—he was the seventh son born out of wedlock, his mother was not favored, and his maternal family had no power.

But Lu Song saw through this person's true nature.

Suspicious, controlling, and pleasure-seeking.

If such a person became emperor, he would be Lu Song's best puppet.

His merit in supporting the emperor earned him the position of prime minister.

Twenty years have passed.

He controlled the government for twenty years, and all the officials in the six ministries and nine courts were his people. Half of the officials in the country had eaten his food and received his money.

But there was always a thorn stuck in his heart.

The Wei family.

He held a grudge about that slap for thirty years.

When the old man of the Wei family died on the battlefield, he drank for three days in the capital.

When the news of his nine sons' successive deaths in battle reached him, he nearly jumped out of his chair.

The cycle of karma is real.

He waited thirty years, and finally saw the Wei family doomed.

But fate played a cruel joke on him.

Wei Zhao.

A sickly fellow who crawled out of a Taoist temple shattered his three-year plan overnight.