Chapter 58: The Arrival of Glorious News

Pei Xuan said calmly, "Second Brother, you've grown up."

"Growing up means no one will manage your affairs anymore. No one will catch you when you fall. You can do whatever you wish, as long as you take responsibility for yourself."

"There will never be anyone carrying a stick again, asking what trouble you've caused out there, or cleaning up the mess you've made."

"You must learn to make your own decisions, bear the consequences yourself, and clean up your own messes."

Hearing his eldest brother speak thus, and looking at their father's spirit tablet, Pei Zhao felt an overwhelming surge of bitter grief wash over him, as if even the heavens and earth had lost their color. He felt he should weep, yet after having wept countless times over the past few days, tears would not come.

At this moment, he could not cry at all.

"Eldest Brother, I understand," Pei Zhao said in a dry voice. "I will go find the Prince of Jin and assist him in ascending the throne."

In his heart, Pei Zhao silently vowed, "Someday, I will make Sixth Lord Zhang give me an account."

At that moment, Pei Zhao's bearing bore a fleeting resemblance to Pei Xuan's.

For many people, growing up happens in a single instant—right there at their father's funeral.

"But He Zhong'an..." He Zhong'an's figure flashed before Pei Zhao's eyes, so detestable, and he asked, "When will you make a move against him, Brother? I want to see him die."

"Have you never considered how our family lost? Open spears are easy to dodge, but hidden arrows are hard to guard against. He Zhong'an is a hidden arrow, and before this, who among us knew what kind of person He Zhong'an was?" Pei Xuan replied, still standing calmly with his hands tucked into his sleeves.

"However, it is not too late for me to know now. From this moment on, I am the hidden arrow."

"I will wait. I will wait until the military affairs in the Western Sea are settled so the He family is no longer under the Emperor's protection. I will wait until He Zhong'an forgets me, until everyone forgets me, and until even I have forgotten my father's hatred. When everyone believes I will never strike, that will be the moment I strike."

"From now on, I must wait for an opportunity. And an opportunity comes only once."

Only then did Pei Zhao notice that his eldest brother's eyes were bloodshot and filled with a manic intensity.

As the eldest son and the new helmsman of the Duke of Ning's estate, his hatred for He Zhong'an and the Prince of Jin was no less than his own.

"Furthermore, even if our family does not make a move, the He family and the Zheng family will not have an easy time of it. Not all the founding nobles are dead yet."

"You mean Uncle Niu?"

Pei Xuan said, "Whoever holds the position of the Privy Commissioner, whoever is the head of the founding nobility—none of them can endure this."

This was a showdown between two factions. The death of the Duke of Ning was undoubtedly a major setback for the founding nobility, but it also marked the official outbreak of war between the southern-campaign nobility and the founding nobility after more than a decade of uneasy peace.

It would certainly not end with the death of a single Duke.

The Zheng family wanted a seat in the Bureau of Military Affairs. But whose seat would be surrendered to make room?

Even if the founding nobility wanted to carve out a slice of the pie for the Zheng family, many of their junior followers would feel differently. When they discovered that their own boss was showing weakness toward the Zheng family, they would secretly ponder: following our boss brings no meat, and the boss is handing the meat over to the Zheng family anyway—wouldn't it be better to switch sides and follow the Zheng family instead?

Once people's hearts are scattered, the troops become impossible to lead.

This was precisely why the Duke of Ning had been so determined to eliminate He Zhong'an.

Once the Zheng family came to power, they would naturally use their own people. With a whole faction of southern-campaign nobles under his command, would he possibly use the founding nobility?

Even if the Zheng family wished to stop while they were ahead, would the people beneath them agree?

Take the He family, for instance.

We risked our lives and went through fire and water for you, Boss Zheng. Now that you've risen to power and are eating meat, you won't even let us sip the broth—that is simply unreasonable.

Pei Xuan thought to himself, "The good show is yet to come."

Lately, he had also been reviewing every single move the Emperor made during the Laba banquet.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized that the crux of his father's death lay in misinterpreting the Emperor's intentions.

In truth, given the foundation of the Duke of Ning's estate, even though they had transgressed taboos, their crimes did not warrant death.

The reason the Emperor struck was that his policy of maintaining the status quo for over a decade could no longer be sustained.

The situation in the Western Sea was merely the tip of the iceberg for the Great Xia empire.

One could only say that the triumphant, roaring momentum of the first thirty years of the Jiacheng era had suppressed too many contradictions, while the case of the deposed crown prince had buried countless hidden dangers. The current Emperor had dragged his feet for over a decade, hoping the problems would simply vanish with time.

Now, he could drag it out no longer.

Viewed in this light, the conflict between the founding nobility and the southern-campaign nobility was merely a fuse.

The real storm was yet to come.

Pei Xuan raised his head to look at the overcast, heavy clouds outside, as if a howling blizzard were about to descend right before his eyes. He extended a jade-like finger and gently tapped the frost-covered railing, saying, "What a truly fine day it is today."

*******

The He family had finally received the triumphant dispatches from the Western Sea.

The official reports sent by the Western Sea to the imperial court traveled via military courier at eight hundred li a day, changing horses without stopping the riders.

As for the letters sent home, they were delivered by their own dispatched men.

Consequently, they took quite a few days longer.

However, they brought back a much larger quantity of goods.

A full two chests of letters had arrived.

They were not only for the Marquis of Wuning's estate, but also for the estate's retainers and servants.

He Zhong'an never expected that among them was a letter addressed specifically to him, written by He Zizhong, the Marquis of Wuning.

It contained only a few sparse, dry sentences.

It stated that he had failed He Zhong'an and his mother.

It noted that the pocket watches He Zhong'an had manufactured were exceptionally useful and had contributed to achievements on the front lines.

It promised that the estate would certainly not treat He Zhong'an unfairly in the future, and so on.

Yet He Zhong'an could sense the awkwardness between the lines.

Clearly, faced with this son who had seemingly sprung out of nowhere from a stone, He Zizhong still did not know how to handle him.

Before He Zhong'an could even finish reading the letter, He Ziqi sent someone to invite him to the White Tiger Hall.

"The White Tiger Hall?"

He Zhong'an did not even know the He family had such a place.

The White Tiger Hall was actually situated right next to the ancestral hall.

It was merely kept locked most of the time.

Upon stepping into the White Tiger Hall, He Zhong'an found it resembled a grand commander's tent.

At the very front stood a tiger-skin commander's chair. Sabers and spears lined the left and right walls, and various seats were arranged accordingly.

A row of heavily weathered armor stood to one side, covered in the marks of various blades, spears, and firearms.

"These were all used by past Marquises of Wuning, especially that set over there, which was brought back from the Black Water Camp," He Ziqi said. "Whenever the family faces wartime, the clan gathers its younger generation here to let them see how hard-earned the Marquis estate's wealth and glory are, so that descendants will never disgrace the legacy of our ancestors."

Looking at the marks on the armor and faintly smelling the lingering scent of gunpowder, He Zhong'an felt as though he had been transported back to a battlefield of clashing iron and galloping horses.

He Zhong'an asked, "Is the White Tiger Hall used to enshrine the relics of our ancestors?"

"Haha," He Ziqi laughed. "Of course not. You'll understand in a moment."

A short while later, the others arrived.

The room filled to capacity, packed with the elite among the He family's young retainers. Xiong Dali had also come, seating himself right behind He Zhong'an.

"Very well," He Ziqi said, having someone carry in a chest of letters and open it. First, he hung a highly abstract map on the wall, then placed the massive pile of letters on the table. Finding one of them, He Ziqi began to read aloud.

Listening to the letter read by He Ziqi and looking at the map, He Zhong'an finally understood.

This was a post-battle debriefing session for the great victory at Bancheng.

The text He Ziqi was reading was not a mere letter; it was the battlefield log of the Marquis of Wuning, He Zizhong.