In the courtyard!

Xia Chen’s expression remained impassive as he heard Lu Shen’s words. He spoke slowly.

“Assign this task to Li Su and Zhang Zhen. They’ve just been promoted and need something to do!”

Xia Chen didn’t turn his head. Over the past month, an air of official authority had grown around him—his casual words alone commanded respect, impossible to disregard.

Li Su and Zhang Zhen were the hallmasters he’d recently elevated.

“Yes, Division Head!”

Lu Shen nodded and turned to leave.

“War is coming—what are your thoughts?”

Xia Chen remained in the courtyard, his voice drifting through it into the house.

Xu Xingchen and Yu Shaoqian both looked up, their faces growing serious at his words.

“A war’s starting?”

Xia Wen bounded out of the house in a single leap, his expression tinged with excitement. His Fate Trait marked him as one born for the battlefield—though young, it was already beginning to show.

Zhang Wenliao, who’d been training his physique in the courtyard, set down the massive stone in his hands.

“The court is mobilizing troops. The Inner Cabinet has unanimously approved it—formal orders should come within three to five days!”

Xia Chen addressed the group that emerged, explaining the situation in detail.

“What do you think of our chances in this northwestern campaign?”

Xia Chen’s gaze settled on Xu Xingchen and Yu Shaoqian. Both possessed high intelligence and a natural aptitude for military affairs—especially Yu Shaoqian, adept in both letters and arms, with a Command score in the nineties.

“Who’s the commanding general?”

Xu Xingchen looked at Xia Chen and asked. While a war’s outcome hinged on many factors, the general’s role was undeniably pivotal.

“It should be Grand Marshal Ouyang Jing!”

Xia Chen replied calmly. Last night, he’d discreetly sent Xia Qian home to gather news. Learning that Emperor Wen hadn’t summoned his uncle to the palace in recent days, he’d deduced the outcome.

“Though the Grand Marshal hasn’t taken the field in years, he’s a seasoned strategist with vast experience. From his campaigns ten or twenty years ago, he commands armies with steadiness and meticulous caution. He favors orthodox tactics over unconventional ones, eroding the enemy step-by-step on the frontal battlefield.

With the Grand Marshal leading, and with Dawu’s military prowess at its peak these years, we shouldn’t need to worry about a frontal clash. The only concern is…”

Xu Xingchen trailed off with a sigh.

“The only concern is whether Dawu’s national strength can still sustain this war. If the Grand Marshal doesn’t lose on the front lines but the rear fails to supply grain and logistics, hundreds of thousands of soldiers could be at risk!”

Yu Shaoqian continued, his face etched with gravity.

“This war mustn’t drag on too long—otherwise, Dawu’s economy could collapse, and the treasury would be drained dry!”

Xu Xingchen spoke earnestly. In truth, the Dawu dynasty was highly confident in its military might—and with good reason. Yet even so, the decision to deploy troops had been debated for nearly two months before settling.

The reason? The treasury was empty!

Over the past few decades, a major war had erupted every ten years or so. While these conflicts had forged Dawu’s dignity and confidence, they’d also exhausted its coffers.

Were it not for Senior Grand Secretary Lin and Senior Official Yang holding things together, Dawu might have faltered long ago.

“So this battle must be swift—like autumn winds sweeping fallen leaves—fierce and decisive. It has to settle the matter in one stroke, not drag on like the Eastern Wasteland campaign, slowly wearing down the enemy!”

Xia Wen’s eyes gleamed, his fists waving with fervor as he seized the crux of the matter.

His battlefield instincts were razor-sharp.

“But Grand Marshal Ouyang favors stability—step-by-step, interlocking moves. He chips away at the enemy on the front lines, only striking with full force when victory is certain. That could bog the campaign down in a stalemate, stretching it out for a long time!

It’s strange—we can all see this logic, so how could His Majesty and the Senior Officials miss it? If we’re to fight this war, wouldn’t your uncle, Marquis Anwu Xia Qian, be a better choice?

Marquis Anwu wields tactics that blend stability with ingenuity, excelling at seizing fleeting opportunities on the battlefield!”

Zhang Wenliao scratched his head after hearing their analysis, voicing his confusion.

These days, Yu Shaoqian had taught him to read and write, while Xia Wen spent an hour each afternoon explaining military strategy, using major wars of the past fifty years as case studies.

As a result, his grasp of the bigger picture, awareness, and insight had undergone a profound transformation.

Yet his political acumen clearly still had room to grow.

At Zhang Wenliao’s words, Xu Xingchen and Yu Shaoqian cautiously glanced at Xia Chen. Seeing his smile unchanged, they relaxed slightly.

“Wenliao! A general must know how to fight, but not only that—he must understand warfare, grasp human nature, and comprehend the broader currents. He needs to understand politics. You’ve still got work to do!”

Xia Wen patted Zhang Wenliao’s shoulder with an air of maturity beyond his years. Barely reaching Zhang Wenliao’s shoulder in height, the scene was faintly comical.

Yet his words carried depth—hard to believe they came from an eleven-year-old.

Xu Xingchen and Yu Shaoqian couldn’t help but raise their estimation of Xia Wen yet again.

This younger brother of the Division Head—his future potential was truly boundless.

“Yes, Brother Wen, I’ll keep learning from you!”

Zhang Wenliao nodded, half-understanding, and thumped his chest toward the boy a head shorter than him.

Over the past month, he’d come to utterly admire Xia Wen.

Though only eleven, Xia Wen’s talent was outrageous—his martial realm surpassed Zhang’s, his knowledge was vast, and the military strategies that gave Zhang headaches flowed effortlessly from Xia Wen’s lips. He genuinely looked up to him.

Xia Wen had become half a mentor to him.

“War is the continuation of politics—a special instrument of it. Politics is war without bloodshed; war is politics with bloodshed! All wars serve political ends.”

Xia Chen watched this exchange and spoke with a smile.

Xu Xingchen and Yu Shaoqian jolted at his words.

“The Division Head’s summary is brilliant!”

“‘All wars serve political ends’—that’s a perfect line!”

Their expressions turned solemn. They grasped the underlying truth, but Xia Chen’s succinct, incisive phrasing made it crystal clear.

“Over the next few days, keep an eye on the Eastern Wasteland battlefield. With the northwest campaign starting, that front should wrap up soon—Dawu’s treasury is too depleted to sustain a two-front war!”

Xia Chen directed this to Xu Xingchen.

“Then doesn’t that mean Second Uncle and Second Aunt will be back soon?”

Xia Wen’s eyes lit up again, but seeing his Third Brother’s unchanged expression—devoid of joy—his own excitement faded.

“If it’s quick, two or three months; at the latest, by year’s end!”

Xia Chen’s gaze was calm, fixed on the horizon.

Blue skies, white clouds, a gentle breeze, and warm sun!

Summer was nearly here!