But reality lay before them: since ancient times, only one had succeeded in rebelling and founding an entirely new dynasty. All the rest had been crushed in the struggle and met miserable ends. Rashly joining a rebel army was no good path either.
Those like the Great Ancestor of the present Great Yong Dynasty, who had subdued the many rebel king factions beneath peerless martial might while winning the support of the great aristocratic clans, sects, gangs, and local magnates—forming a community of shared interests and averting more than a decade, perhaps even longer, of war—were few and far between.
Moreover, it was precisely because Great Yong Dynasty had lacked the overbearing, iron-blooded force of an imperial army sweeping across the realm that it had been born deficient, constrained by the great clans, sects, gangs, local magnates, and other powers. The majesty of imperial authority had been greatly diminished.
Returning to the matter of Lingwu City, what they needed to do was make every preparation and resist foreign enemies' invasion.
Whether it was that band of rebels from Liang Prefecture or the Pudu Cult, currently lying low in Yanzhou, anyone seeking to take Lingwu City was their opponent, their enemy. They absolutely could not show mercy.
"By the way, General Meng, does the information you kept mentioning earlier have anything to do with Dragon City?"
Having calmed down, the Ding Family Head quickly realized the heart of the matter. The earlier discussion had revolved around Dragon City, yet now news had emerged that rebel forces were plotting against Lingwu City. Could there really be no connection at all?
Meng Zhao sighed, nodded, and said in a somewhat grave tone,
"Father-in-law, your gaze is indeed keen as a torch; with a single word, you have pierced the crux of the matter.