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

"The old woman is coming to settle accounts with me." Lu Song stopped on the broken porcelain shards, his voice turning cold.

He picked up a folding fan from his desk and slowly unfolded it. On the fan were two words he had written himself: "Patience."

I can't tolerate this anymore.

The great victory at Yanmen Pass was already a fait accompli, and he couldn't stop the rewards—he had tried to stop it in the court last time, which had already attracted a lot of attention.

If the old lady personally goes to the palace tomorrow, and he jumps out to cause trouble again, it would be too unseemly of him to do so.

Let's try a different approach.

Lu Song tapped his fingers lightly on the fan ribs twice, a glint of light flashing in his cloudy eyes.

Rewards can be given. They can even be given generously.

But what to reward, how to reward, and what conditions to attach—that's where the real issues lie.

For example, they could bestow a prestigious title upon Wei Zhao and then transfer him back to the capital for "rest and recuperation."

Nominally, it was a reward for meritorious service, but in reality, it was a way to remove him from the military.

For example, the government would supplement the rations and pay of the Wei family army, but would require the Wei family to relinquish some of their military power, with the court sending another general to "assist" in command.

For example—

Lu Song's lips curled into a smile.

"Someone come here."

The butler, who was waiting outside the study, immediately pushed the door open and came in.

"Go and invite Vice Minister Zhao of the Ministry of War over." Lu Song closed his folding fan, his voice returning to its usual gentle and refined tone.

"Just tell him that I've brewed a pot of fine tea tonight and would like to invite him over for a chat."

The steward acknowledged the order and withdrew.

Lu Song turned around and walked to the window. Outside the window was the meticulously maintained garden of the Prime Minister's residence, where moonlight shone on the artificial hill, casting a cool, silvery-white glow.

He stared at the moonlight and slowly uttered a few words.

"Old woman, if you dare to come back, you're not leaving now."

The voice wasn't loud; it sounded like the speaker was talking to himself.

But then his brows furrowed again.

Wei Zhao has already led his troops to Yumen Pass.

With an army of over 200,000, if they were to defeat the Western Qiang again...

Lu Song's fingers tightened suddenly on the folding fan.

We can't let him win.

Absolutely not.

He turned and walked back to his desk, pulled out a letter from a hidden compartment, and dipped his pen in ink.

The pen tip hovered above the paper for three breaths.

Then it fell.

It was a secret letter addressed to Zhao Yuanlang, the garrison commander of Yumen Pass.

……

"They're here! They're here! The Wei family army is here!"

Old Zhou, the unshaven old soldier on the city wall, suddenly stood up from behind the crenellations, smashing the rough pottery bowl in his hand to the ground with a "crash," shattering it into pieces.

He rubbed his eyes in disbelief and looked at it again.

On the horizon, a black line is rapidly thickening and widening.

Banners fluttered in the wind, and the sound of horses' hooves thundered.

The banner at the very front is embroidered with a huge character "卫" (Wei), which stretches out in the hot wind of the Gobi Desert, making one's eyes sting with tears.

"Truly a loyal army!"

The young soldier next to him stammered, and his eyes immediately welled up with tears.

The message spread like wildfire across the city walls.

The emaciated soldiers, who could barely hold their swords, crawled up from behind the battlements. Some laughed, some cried, and some knelt on the city wall, kowtowing to the great banner.

Old Zhou stood there, his lips trembling for a long time, before finally managing to squeeze out a sentence.

He's alive.

……

Zhao Yuanlang, the garrison commander of Yumen Pass, was among the first to receive the message.

He was drinking in the commander's tent. It wasn't any good wine, but it was ten times better than the cheap wine the brothers on the city wall were drinking.

A pot of warm Shaoxing wine, paired with two plates of braised beef brought from the rear—life was good.

When the guards lifted the curtain and rushed in, Zhao Yuanlang was stuffing a piece of beef into his mouth.

"General! The Wei family army has arrived! More than 200,000 men! They're already five miles outside the pass!"

With a piece of beef stuck in his throat, Zhao Yuanlang nearly choked to death.

He coughed twice suddenly, slamming the wine bowl on the table with a "bang," splashing wine all over his hand.

"How much...?"

"More than 200,000! They're flying the Wei flag! The leader should be... Wei Zhao."

Zhao Yuanlang's mind went blank for a moment.

Wei Zhao. The tenth son of the Wei family who wiped out 500,000 Northern Rong.

His first thought was not joy, but fear.

It's no secret that Zhao Yuanlang is Lu Song's man. He knows perfectly well how much he's done, from drawing salaries without working to exploit his soldiers to fabricate military achievements.

If Wei Zhao came to settle scores later...

But then, the second thought overwhelmed the first.

The Western Qiang army could launch a general offensive at any time.

There's been no news for half a month, and the messages from the scouts are becoming increasingly disheartening.

The eldest prince of the Western Qiang has arrived at the front line, and the tribal coalition is gathering. At the latest, Yumen Pass will face the most intense offensive in its history within three days.

Three days.

With so few men under his command, can he hold out?

Zhao Yuanlang isn't stupid. He's a bastard, but not an idiot.

Lu Songyuan was far away in the capital. Even writing a hundred secret letters couldn't stop the Western Qiang people from slashing his neck with stone axes.

Is the prime minister's face more important, or his own head?

There's no need to even think about this problem.

"Prepare the horse!" Zhao Yuanlang ripped off the armor hanging on the rack and hurriedly put it on.

"Open the city gates! All troops, line up and follow me out of the pass to welcome General Wei!"

The guard was taken aback.

"Go now!" Zhao Yuanlang glared at him, his voice filled with urgency.

He had it all figured out. By voluntarily relinquishing power and adopting a humble attitude, he could at least save his life.

If Wei Zhao is a vengeful person, then he'll accept his fate; if he's someone who considers the bigger picture, then he'll be a useful dog.

Anyway, there's not much difference between being Lu Song's dog and being Wei Zhao's dog.

The key is to stay alive.

……

The gates of Yumen Pass were wide open, and Zhao Yuanlang stood in front of the gate with a group of captains, their armor gleaming and their backs ramrod straight.

Wei Zhao, riding a white horse, saw this scene from afar.

He sneered inwardly.

They know what's good for them.

Su Qingyun's intelligence network had long since figured out Zhao Yuanlang's background.

How much salary was embezzled, how much military pay was misappropriated, and how many of the 100,000 men on the list were actually capable of fighting—Wei Zhao could recite these figures with his eyes closed.

But now is not the time to deal with him.

With the Western Qiang army pressing in, Yumen Pass is in imminent danger of falling.

If he were to kill the garrison commander right away, the already demoralized garrison in the city would only become more chaotic.

Let's use it for now. We'll settle the score later after this battle.

Wei Zhao rode up to them and reined in his horse.

Zhao Yuanlang had already dismounted, knelt on one knee, and raised his hands in a fist above his head.

"This humble general, Zhao Yuanlang, respectfully welcomes General Wei!"

His voice was loud, but if you listened carefully, you could hear a tremor in it.

Wei Zhao looked down at him, but did not speak immediately.

There was a three-breath silence.

A thin layer of sweat appeared on Zhao Yuanlang's forehead.

"I have compiled the defenses within the pass into a book."

Zhao Yuanlang took out a book from his pocket and held it up with both hands.

"Troop deployment, food and fodder reserves, and city defense fortifications are all here."

"From this day forward, all military affairs at Yumen Pass are at the general's command!"

Wei Zhao reached out and took the book, turning two pages.

The numbers are alarming. The roster lists 100,000, but only 53,000 are actually employed.

Of those, no more than 40,000 could stand on the city walls. The provisions were only enough to last half a month.

Thirty percent of the crossbow strings were broken and no one repaired them; three sides of the city wall collapsed and were plugged with sandbags.

It's rotten to the core.

Wei Zhao closed the book and tucked it into his bosom.

Get up.

In two words, neither hot nor cold.

Zhao Yuanlang felt as if he had been granted a pardon, and stood up, his legs a little weak.

He secretly glanced at Wei Zhao and found that the young man's face was expressionless, more desolate than the Gobi Desert to the west.

This only made him more afraid.