Chapter 61: A dragon is about to emerge from the He family.

Only when the turbulent waters roar do the true heroes show their mettle. The more critical the moment, the more clearly a person's true colors are revealed.

Before the Laba Banquet, Madam He had prepared a great many things to say. But when the banquet actually arrived, she found herself unable to utter a single word, completely unable to keep pace with the Emperor's rhythm. Before she could even begin to fathom what the Emperor meant, His Majesty had already moved on to the next matter.

She had been in a complete daze, moving through it all as if in a dream. Apart from echoing a few words spoken by He Chong'an at the very end, she had not been of the slightest help.

This was only natural. In ancient times, the Emperor was not someone just anyone could meet; this had undoubtedly been the closest Madam He had ever been to the Son of Heaven in her entire life. However, Madam He was, after all, the daughter of a distinguished military lineage. Though she failed to grasp the underlying meanings at the time, upon returning home and pondering over them carefully, she finally began to discern a few subtle layers of intent.

He Chong'an himself felt that he had been used as a chess piece by the Emperor, pushed around and led by the nose throughout the entire banquet. He had served as the Emperor's blade and nearly lost his life in the process, leaving him feeling deeply passive. In his heart, he made a silent vow that he must never allow such a situation to happen again.

Yet, in Madam He's eyes, the foremost military commander in the realm and the head of the founding nobility—the Duke of Wuning—had been ruthlessly forced to his death. Regardless of how many hidden details lay beneath the surface, such statecraft was matched by very few.

And that was to say nothing of the sheer daring required. During his conversation with the Emperor, he had not yielded an inch, even daring to bluntly confront the Sovereign. In the end, he had managed to withdraw unscathed, winning boundless wealth and glory for the He family.

The extension of the title for another generation was certainly owed to his achievements in the victory at Bancheng, but had it not been for the Emperor's personal attention, the Privy Council would never have given their consent so readily.

Madam He had also recognized He Chong'an's immense potential.

"The He family is about to produce a true dragon," she thought.

The more she realized this, the more cautious Madam He had to be, especially since she was not his biological mother. If she had been his birth mother, anything would have gone. At best, she was his stepmother; if she were to overstep her bounds and alienate He Chong'an, he might not outwardly do anything to her—after all, the reputation for filial piety still mattered—but it would be hard to say what he might do to her two sons. After all, there was little genuine affection between step-brothers.

There was also a lingering worry in Madam He's heart: Would He Chong'an set his sights on the title of the Marquis of Wuning?

Madam He was, after all, a mother, and despite her magnanimity, she would never allow He Chong'an to take the title of the Marquis of Wuning. Her probing just now had revealed that He Chong'an harbored no such intentions. Naturally, compensation had to be made elsewhere; while the Fengyu firm generated a daily stream of gold, the Estate of the Marquis of Wuning remained their absolute foundation.

As long as He Chong'an did not cast a covetous eye on the Marquis's title, Madam He was willing to grant him anything else. She carefully nurtured this mother-son bond, hoping that in the future, He Chong'an would look after her two biological sons—which was, in effect, an admission that He Chong'an's future prospects far surpassed those of her own boys. Had the estate not genuinely been in desperate need of funds, Madam He would never have broached the subject of money with him.

He Chong'an had always been acutely clear-headed. When he had first transmigrated into this world, was his learning any worse than it was now? Yet he had almost frozen to death in the bitter snow. Without the identity of He Chong'an, without the platform of the He estate, and without an admission ticket to upper-class society, even with talents that could astonish the world, he likely would have had to toil for a dozen years just to earn a chance to serve as someone else's lackey.

Therefore, he was more than willing to pay a heavy price to maintain this identity. He knew very well that his true identity was fake and might be exposed at any moment. By willingly giving a large sum of money to the He estate every year, he was buying insurance for the day his identity was exposed—so that someone, like this Madam He, would help cover for him.

He Chong'an had understood this long ago.

Madam He's high regard for He Chong'an was not rooted in any maternal affection for a concubine-born son. Generous as she might be, what sort of mother-son bond could she truly have with a stepson? Their relationship was built primarily on mutual interests. As long as He Chong'an could bring benefits to Madam He, did it really matter whether his background was genuine or false? Did Madam He truly care about the life or death of an illegitimate child?

Furthermore, He Chong'an was well aware that without the He family, there would be no Fengyu coal briquettes. No matter how much thought He Chong'an had poured into the briquette factory or how many reforms he had introduced, at its core, this was simply the monetization of the He family's political power. His technological innovations merely made that monetization process more efficient. Therefore, the briquette factory had to be—and must be—the property of the He family, not his alone.

Yet He Chong'an was also someone who thoroughly understood the true nature of power. What is power? Ownership is not power; control is power. The briquette factory had been built entirely by his own hands, saturated with his influence, and others simply could not run it. Even though it belonged to the He family, it was bound to be managed by him; it was merely a question of how the profits were divided. Protection money, after all, had to be paid.

As for the peerage... He Chong'an had not failed to consider it, but after pondering it repeatedly, he ultimately abandoned the idea.

The Marquis of Wuning was not merely a title; it was a war machine. The Marquis of Wuning was simply the helmsman of that machine. The retainers and scions of the Marquis's estate were trained in the art of war from childhood, many of them bound by lifelong bonds forged since their childhood days. They were truly brothers who would face tigers together, fathers and sons fighting side by side on the battlefield.

As an outsider, He Chong'an would find it exceedingly difficult to fully integrate into this tightly knit clique. Even if he could, he did not believe he could completely command such a machine. Moreover, He Chong'an's vision for his own future extended far beyond merely being a military commander. The positions of the Marquis of Wuning and head of the He family would be both a burden and a shackle to him.

Furthermore, He Chong'an had always factored the eventual exposure of his identity into his future planning. With a different identity, everyone's perspective would change. Someone like Madam He, who needed a capable commander, might grit her teeth and accept him even if he weren't of He blood. But if He Chong'an were to seek the position of the Marquis of Wuning and head of the He family, that would cross the line into undermining the He family's foundation and tampering with their bloodline—a matter of the utmost gravity. Neither Madam He nor anyone else in the He family would ever let him succeed, even if it cost them their lives.

Thus, in response to Madam He's probing, He Chong'an had clearly expressed his stance: he harbored not the slightest ambition toward the title of the Marquis of Wuning.

Outsiders, ignorant of the internal truths, could only marvel at the deep maternal affection between mother and son. With all conflicts thus dissolved, the relationship between Madam He and He Chong'an was no different from that of a biological mother and son.

"Mother, since we are family, there is no need for such formalities," He Chong'an said. "Let us do this: I will contribute one hundred thousand silver taels annually for the household expenses. Whenever the family requires funds, you may come directly to discuss it with me. As long as it is an unavoidable expense, I will provide it, even if I have to smash the pots and sell the iron to do so."

"Very well, let it be as you say. As for this sum of one hundred thousand taels, if it proves too burdensome, you need not force yourself." Madam He paused, then asked, "However, can those twenty thousand taels be made available immediately?"

After some polite give-and-take, the agreement was finally settled.

He Chong'an replied, "Naturally. But Mother, why are you in such urgent need of money?"

Madam He took a deep breath and asked, "Third, you have been in this household for quite some time now. What do you consider to be the foundation of the He family?"

"The retainers," He Chong'an answered without a moment's hesitation.

The He family's retainers were their personal guards, loyal retainers prepared to die for them, and junior officers at the grassroots level. They were the finest instruments for military management. It was only with the support of these men that the He family maintained its standing within the military.

"This sum of money is precisely for them."

Indeed, the doll that Ye Hao had set his sights on was extraordinarily difficult to grab, for the entire toy was jammed deep into a corner with virtually no angle of attack. It was clear that this particularly attractive doll had been deliberately placed there by the merchant precisely so that people could see it but never grasp it, purely as a trick to empty people's pockets.

"Alright, let us cease discussing these matters here," Tian Lie interceded. "Next, we must focus intently on elevating our cultivation realms. If our realms do not improve, then even if I were to intervene, the Hall of Rules could never truly grow and flourish."

Zhou Yuquan's face burned red as she realized that several passengers on the aircraft were casting peculiar glances in her direction.

Yang Yu was utterly terrified of that body-ripping agony! Yet upon hearing Elder Tong urge him to endure it, claiming it would bring him immense benefits, Yang Yu felt like crying without tears. Old Jiuya was already dead; even if he could not hold on, there was no one left to extract that surge of vital energy for him. What was he supposed to do now?

They said that affection grows with time, and Li Feiyan seemed to have developed some ineffable, unspoken emotion toward Tianying. At times, if she went long without seeing him, a quiet sense of longing would quietly take root.

By now, night had fallen, and the pedestrians on the street had grown sparse. Unwilling to stir up too great a commotion, Lanzijie had early on instructed his men to have horses prepared at the entrance. The Tao brothers had wished to accompany him, but Lanzijie kindly persuaded them to stay, eventually setting out accompanied only by Yuesanjian.

"It seems the Celestial Monster clan is preparing to make another strike against the Celestial Soul Continent. Palace Master, the cultivation of the Celestial Monster chieftain has likely advanced considerably," the First Elder of the Soul-Lu Hall murmured with a frown.

"That marble is produced entirely by my own ability, which is why only I possess the power to erase the images stored within it," Nick said with calculated caution.

"Look! The reinforcements are right over there. It was already a struggle just to hold that position; why on earth would you pull men away from there?"

During the subsequent patrol, Zhang Beihai slowed his pace slightly to accommodate the dawdling Milly, reducing their speed to a more manageable crawl.

Listening to Jingmo's every word and phrase, Feng Wang caused Feng Wang's heart to ache with memories of the helplessness and agony he had felt during his own clashes with Prince Feng.

A chill wind swept through, carrying a biting cold. The guard cast a suspicious glance around the surroundings, but seeing nothing amiss, he placidly resumed his patrol.

The Xiongnu had retreated, yet they had not departed far, making camp just outside the city walls. This was a regrouping; after all, Attila harbored no intention of retreating permanently. With no one daring to stand against him here, he could afford to rest and recuperate upon Roman soil at his leisure.

Yian's consideration was gentle and tender, yet she herself had never felt that such things were absolute necessities.

Thus, utilizing such a method to produce refined salt was undoubtedly a dead end. Zhang San knew of a physical method—utilizing the differing crystallization conditions of various substances to filter out elements other than sodium chloride from sea salt—but such advanced technology was beyond his current grasp.

Perhaps this was for the best. After all, having never experienced such patient companionship free from the clutter of trivial distractions, why not simply surrender himself to the moment and indulge in this hard-won worldly luxury?

Greeting one another with savage cries, they brandished axes and iron swords as they lunged toward Lujia. Lujia braced his shield, resting his sword against his waist, awaiting that split second when the two forces were about to collide.

Such intricate operations could have been accomplished effortlessly had they been working on a standard A4 comic manuscript.

"What is it, Mofei?" The Spirit of the System lacked a physical form, but it could channel the power of the three hundred and sixty layers of arrays to form a gentle breeze of energy, which brushed softly across Mofei's cheek.