Emperor Huan of Zhou

Lin Tianyang raised his head slightly. No emotion showed on his delicate, refined face.

His gaze slowly swept across the hall before finally settling on the faces of several old ministers. His gaze was light, yet the old ministers who had been arguing fiercely moments ago instinctively shrank their necks.

"Your Majesty asked this old servant whether troops should be sent," Lin Tianyang said, his voice fine and steady, devoid of emotion. "This old servant believes they should."

Before the old ministers could breathe a sigh of relief, Lin Tianyang continued:

"However, whom to send, how to send them, and when to send them—all of this requires careful deliberation.

"Though Yu Kingdom's plea for aid is urgent, Great Zhou must also preserve itself.

"If we rashly commit all our strength to rescue them, only for the Demon Race to exploit the opening, that would truly be robbing Peter to pay Paul."

He paused, his gaze falling upon Emperor Huan of Zhou. He bowed slightly, his manner respectful, yet beneath that respect lay a faint sense of command that others would find difficult to notice.

"This old servant believes that Yu Kingdom should be allowed to hold on a while longer.

"Once they have bled themselves dry and worn away the Demon Race's sharpness, Great Zhou can strike with the force of thunder. That would be the best strategy."

At those words, the expressions of several old ministers turned ugly.

They looked at Lin Tianyang's unruffled face, then at the silent Emperor Huan of Zhou upon the dragon throne. An indescribable frustration rose within them.

His Majesty trusted this eunuch far too much.

For eight or nine matters out of ten in court, Lin Tianyang's opinion had to be sought first.

A castrated man held Great Zhou's government in his grasp.