King Xi of Yan heard this, and his tightly furrowed brows suddenly relaxed. His eyes burst with bright light as he eagerly leaned forward. "Oh? General Yue Jian has a good strategy? Quickly, tell us in detail!"
Yue Jian nodded solemnly and said in a deep voice, "The martial prowess of Zhao Cheng, the Marquis of Blood Robe, has long spread throughout the realm. The Blood-Clad Army under his command is composed entirely of tiger-warrior elites, each capable of fighting a hundred men.
"This is something we must face squarely. We absolutely cannot underestimate them in the slightest."
"But you must also know that, at full strength, the Blood-Clad Army numbers only thirty thousand. Every one of them is an elite among elites.
"And precisely because of that, they cannot afford losses.
"For every one who dies, there is one fewer, and they cannot easily be replenished."
"By contrast, our Great Yan still has an army of three hundred thousand at our disposal, counting the garrisons of every prefecture and commandery as well as the border guards."
"Beyond that, we can also borrow strength to strike with strength—draw the Donghu forces into serving our purposes."
Ever since the Qin State had risen to dominance, Yan had always pursued a conservative policy of avoiding war. Yue Jian possessed a bellyful of military stratagems, yet had never had a chance to put them to use. Now that Yan stood at the brink of life and death, this was precisely the moment for him to display his learning and turn the tide.
Thus, he stood tall in the hall, his brows brimming with high spirits as his blazing gaze swept across the assembled ministers.
Seeing his confidence, everyone's suspended hearts eased somewhat, but they still pressed him with doubts. "Borrow the Donghu's strength?"