This matter is not up for further discussion

The capital of Xuanwu Kingdom.

Within the palace council hall.

The current emperor of Xuanwu Kingdom, Zhao Xuan, sat slumped on the dragon throne, his expression weary.

The urgent dispatches piled high on the table before him had nearly covered its entire surface.

Though the documents were stacked thick, Zhao Xuan could guess their contents without even looking.

They were undoubtedly about the refugees displaced by the demon kingdom’s rampage, pleading for disaster relief and arrangements to return them to their homes.

Then there were the flood victims in places like Chizhou, also begging for aid.

Solutions existed, of course—detailed, meticulously crafted plans.

But every single one of them required one thing above all else: grain.

Grain was most precious when people were starving.

Zhao Xuan had already exhausted all efforts to purchase grain from other nations, even at exorbitant, exploitative prices. Yet the amount acquired was still far from enough.

Feeding millions of refugees until the next autumn harvest was no small feat.

Still, this problem was at least somewhat manageable. Priorities could be set—some matters delayed, others urgently addressed.

The most pressing issue, however, was the damned rebel army in the east.

The war was not just a crushing defeat—it was an utter disaster.

Every time Zhao Xuan reviewed the battle reports, he braced himself, fully expecting to read about incompetent fools leading the troops.

He no longer hoped for victory, only that the losses wouldn’t be too humiliating, buying time for a turnaround.

Yet even with such low expectations, the reports still managed to shock him.

It was as if he could replace the commanders with pigs, let them grunt orders, and the soldiers would still perform better by sheer guesswork.

Zhao Xuan barely slept these days, terrified that if he closed his eyes for too long, the sky above Xuanwu Kingdom would collapse.

He didn’t even know what more he could do in this situation.

He felt busy, yet directionless.

But sitting idle, waiting for doom, was not in his nature.

As long as he kept striving, perhaps a sliver of hope remained?

Zhao Xuan let out a bitter chuckle.

The sound cut sharply through the silent council hall.

The ministers in attendance all fell quiet.

Every official in this hall was a master of cunning—who among them didn’t understand that Xuanwu Kingdom’s crisis was beyond dire?

It wasn’t just a matter of urgency—it was like a physician sighing in resignation, declaring the patient beyond saving.

In such times, none could predict whether the young emperor might snap in desperation.

Zhao Xuan swept his arm across the table, sending the memorials crashing to the floor.

They were all the same—pleas for money, grain, or reports of crushing defeats.

He had no desire to read them anymore. What good would it do? There were no miracles hidden in those pages.

His gaze shifted to the few remaining pillars of the state below the throne. Taking a deep breath, he began,

"The affairs of the kingdom have reached such a desperate state—"

Then he trailed off.

How could mere strategy salvage this? At this point, divine intervention seemed more reliable.

After a long silence, an elderly man in crimson robes—Minister Wang—rose from his seat under the weight of the room’s attention. Cupping his hands, he spoke:

"Your Majesty, though the frontlines are dire, we have not yet reached the worst."

Zhao Xuan’s heart clenched. How could things possibly get worse?

Would the rebels have to hold a sword to his neck before it counted as the "worst"?

Still, he forced an appreciative smile onto his face and replied with feigned enthusiasm,

"Minister Wang, in such circumstances, what wisdom do you offer?"

The old minister’s face, marked with age spots, remained solemn. After a pause, he lowered his voice and said,

"Empty the granaries without restraint. Recruit soldiers from the most devastated provinces."

All eyes turned to the slightly hunched figure in shock.

Zhao Xuan’s mind reeled, his exhaustion and frustration momentarily swept away.

Not because the idea was brilliant—but because of its brutality.

Suppressing his emotions, Zhao Xuan managed an unnatural smile.

"The frontlines are desperate… but the refugees are skeletal. Even if we fed them to standard soldier condition and trained them properly—"

"It wouldn’t take a year or two!" Minister Wang interrupted sharply, his voice grim. "From recruitment to deployment—four months at most!"

"Train them on the march!"

Zhao Xuan fell silent.

This wasn’t relief work—it was a death sentence.

"Training on the march" was a farce.

No man could march all day and drill at night.

Only the dead could endure such torment.

The rebels, though once desperate peasants themselves, had been hardened by battle into bloodied veterans.

This plan was nothing more than an execution—dressed in prettier words.

The refugees, who originally required at least half a year or even a full year to be properly settled, could now be managed in just four months at most...

Minister Wang continued speaking, his voice steady yet grave: "Though we have only glimpsed fragments of the situation, the details reveal the whole. It seems there is a sinister force behind all this!"

"At present, regions like Chizhou remain under our control, but the tide of displaced people has already formed. Now, they no longer serve His Majesty."

"Soon, they may turn their force against His Majesty."

"Though it may harm the harmony between ruler and subjects... we have reached this point." Minister Wang trembled as he raised his head, meeting the stunned gaze of Zhao Xuan.

Gritting his teeth, he said, "I beg Your Majesty to make a clear judgment of the current circumstances."

As Minister Wang's words faded, silence once again settled over the council hall.

Zhao Xuan could no longer maintain his composure, his face a mask of shock as he stared at Minister Wang, a pillar of his court.

It was hard to believe that the same Minister Wang, who once spoke of "putting the people first," could now propose such a ruthless strategy.

After a few breaths, Minister Zhang rose in fury, his eyes blazing with indignation as he glared at Minister Wang.

"What kind of man are you? Do you take them for mere dogs? Are millions just numbers to you?"

Minister Zhang seemed unwilling to waste another word on such a heartless man.

Turning to Zhao Xuan, he clasped his hands and declared, "Your Majesty, to govern the people, there are but three paths: the Way of Benevolence, the Way of Might, and the Way of Virtue. Yet no matter which path a ruler takes, the goal is always to win the hearts of the people."

"Search through history—when has a kingdom ever truly fallen to outsiders?"

"A kingdom falls when it loses the hearts of its people! Your Majesty, do not listen to this butcher's counsel! His words are the true path to ruin!"

Minister Wang sighed, offering a bitter smile as his gaze drifted toward Minister Zhang.

"What hearts of the people remain? In but a moment, they will all turn into hearts set on regicide!"

Minister Zhang ignored his words, keeping his posture firm before Zhao Xuan.

When paths diverge, even half a word is too much.

Zhao Xuan's eyes lingered on the two men below him.

After a long silence, he finally took his seat again. A soft chuckle escaped him before his voice steadied with resolve.

"When my father passed the throne to me, he left but one instruction: 'A ruler must love his people as his own children.'"

"What father, to save his own skin, would send his sons to die? Let alone a million of them?"

"I may be ruthless to anyone else, but never to my people."

"This matter... requires no further discussion."