"I'm not looking down on you Kang people..." The mage spared a glance at the sword-ruler in Bei Jiu's hand. Once he was sure she had no intention of swinging it at him, and she raised an eyebrow to signal that he should go on, he continued, "It's just that the Central Allied Army has deep foundations, far beyond what ordinary forces can imagine. Just look at how they can call in reinforcements—"
The mage made a ringing-a-bell gesture.
Lowering his voice, he asked, "Do you know how many connections they've built up over more than a century?"
Bei Jiu clicked her tongue. She'd thought the old monk had some lofty argument to make, but he'd been going on about the same thing all along.
Seeing that she wasn't convinced, the mage chuckled. "When I talk about connections, do you youngsters think I mean people who are one in a hundred, or one in a thousand? No. I mean the rare talents left standing after the culling of battle—one in ten thousand. Ordinary commanderies and counties have anywhere from tens of thousands to over a hundred thousand people. Even one in ten thousand leaves a dozen or so talents. How many generations have there been in these two hundred years? Even those who survived by the skin of their teeth would be more than enough to give Kang a hard time. I know quite a few of them myself. I can't guarantee they'll all get involved, but..."
Bei Jiu replied coldly, "So what?"
The woman's gaze carried the authority and oppressive force of someone in a position of power.
As a homebody of the Mohist School who loved nothing more than burying herself in research, her temperament was as introverted as that of most Mohists. But she was also a