Earlier, when the barbarians attacked the frontier and captured three cities in succession, they were still a thousand miles away. The powerful lords of the Capital watched like people watching a fire from the opposite bank. They cried out in alarm, but how much of it they truly felt was another matter. Some even seized the chance to profit from the nation's misfortune.
This time was different.
Every word of the urgent military dispatch seemed to weep blood-the barbarian cavalry had driven straight in, the garrisons along their route surrendering at the mere rumor of their approach. Their spearhead was already aimed at the Capital!
At that, the entire Capital erupted.
The court officials who had feared for their own safety only days ago because of the Moon-Treading Great Thief now truly understood what an omen of a nation's fall looked like.
Inside the imperial bedchamber, Emperor Yang Zhao, who had just been thunderously furious over their failure to catch a single thief, now had a face ashen with anger.
He slammed the dispatch to the floor, pointed at the minister of war below the dais, and roared, "Where are the military garrisons along the way? Where are the armies I maintain? Are they all dead? Are they just going to stand by and watch the barbarians fight their way to my doorstep?!"
The minister of war knelt on the floor, his aged face wrinkled like a bitter melon, his heart full of grievance. "Your Majesty, it is not that we have failed to do our duty!"
"Those military garrisons along the way stopped obeying the court's commands long ago. In peacetime, none were quicker to hold out their hands for money and grain, but when the time truly came for them to send troops, every last one claimed illness and refused to come out, professing obedience while defying us in secret. I... we have no means of dealing with them!"
At those words, Yang Zhao's fury seemed to have a basin of ice water poured over it. More than half of it vanished in an instant, leaving only a chill that penetrated his bones.
He knew the minister of war was telling the truth.
Great Zhao had stood for over two hundred years, and the realm had enjoyed peace for so long that the provincial garrisons had grown too powerful to control, gradually slipping from the court's grasp. But he had never imagined that these military governors, whose families had enjoyed imperial favor for generations, would dare stand by and do nothing while the dynasty faced disaster!
Their intentions were plain for all to see.
They wanted nothing more than to wait for the barbarians to take the Capital and leave him, the emperor, to die without a burial place. Then they could seize the opportunity to rise up and each proclaim himself king and overlord over these shattered mountains and rivers!
"Rebellion... they've all rebelled!" Yang Zhao collapsed back onto the dragon throne, his spirit broken, boundless desolation and dismay welling up in his heart.
But this was no time to pursue the matter. Saving the Capital and his own life came first.
"Convey my decree." Yang Zhao forced himself to rally and issued his order in a hoarse voice. "Command the Feathered Forest Guard defending the Capital to step up their battle preparations at once. The entire army is to march out and meet the enemy beyond the city!"
As soon as the imperial decree was issued, an uproar swept through the Feathered Forest Guard's camp. A massive wave of draft-dodging soon followed among the troops known as the Son of Heaven's own army.
The Feathered Forest Guard was no longer the iron-blooded force that had fought and won so many battles at the dynasty's founding.
More than two centuries of peace had long since eaten away its backbone. By now, the Feathered Forest Guard had become little more than a comfortable nest where members of the imperial clan and the sons of the powerful could gild their reputations and live out their days in ease.
When it came to carrying birdcages and taking birds out for a walk, staging cockfights and racing dogs, sipping tea and listening to music, or enjoying themselves with prostitutes, every one of them was an expert. But if they had to take the field and kill the enemy, they would sooner slit their own throats and be done with it.
These days, the Military Patrol Office and the Arrest Bureau were the ones truly responsible for keeping order in the Capital, while the imperial city was guarded by Yang Zhao's own most elite private troops-the Imperial Guard.
Its members were selected year-round from respectable families among the common people, and Yang Zhao treasured them as the flesh of his heart. As a result, they still had some fighting strength.
But Yang Zhao knew that the Imperial Guard was his final trump card, meant to protect his own life. He could not squander it outside the city.
Otherwise, if the city held but the Imperial Guard was wiped out first, he might die an even worse death.
Thus, though he knew full well that the Feathered Forest Guard was a bunch of good-for-nothings, he still dreamed that these spoiled young masters could restore their forefathers' glory in the nation's hour of crisis.
To that end, he even offered a substantial reward and sent a trusted general to oversee the fighting.
But when the general reached the camp, he found a scene of utter chaos.
Some were packing their valuables and preparing to run. Others had simply gathered together and given up trying. Still others even shouted defiance at the general sent to oversee them.
"Send us to our deaths? Why should we?" a young member of the imperial clan said with a sidelong glance. "Back when my great-great-grandfather followed the founding emperor to conquer the realm, he ate up all the bitterness for us descendants. We're here to enjoy ourselves, not risk our lives!"
"Exactly! If you want to fight, go fight yourselves. Leave this young master out of it!"
Faced with such defiance, the general in charge of overseeing them did not dare let out so much as a fart.
He knew that everyone in the group was either a relative of the imperial family or a descendant of the nobles who had helped found the dynasty. He could not afford to offend a single one of them.
The grand mobilization for battle ultimately turned into a farce from beginning to end.
And countless interested parties in the Capital watched that farce unfold.
The Lin residence.
Late at night, when all was quiet, the study was brightly lit.
The family head, Lin Hong, sat upright in the seat of honor, his face as still as water. Seated below him on both sides were the Lin Family's core members.
Even his disappointing son, the Lin Family's young master Lin Rui, the master of Chen Ye's predecessor, had been allowed to attend for the first time ever.
It was Lin Rui's first time attending such an important family meeting. He sat ramrod straight, his face full of the excitement of sharing in the honor.
Lin Hong's gaze slowly swept over everyone present before he finally spoke. "I imagine everyone is aware of the situation outside."
He paused, as though gathering his words, or perhaps giving the others time to digest them.
"In my view, Great Zhao's time is up. The Yang Family can no longer hold on to the realm."
Astonishment swept through the room at his words. Even the sound of breathing stopped.
Lin Hong, however, seemed not to notice their reaction. He continued, "As the saying goes, when the nest is overturned, how can any eggs remain intact? If our Lin Family wishes to survive in these troubled times, we cannot put all our eggs in one basket."
His gaze sharpened. "What I mean is, we should send someone to make... contact with the steppe people to the north."
"Father!" Lin Rui's elder brother, Lin Qian, the Lin Family's eldest son, cried out in shock. "Th-that would be colluding with the enemy and betraying the nation!"
"Silence!" Lin Hong snapped, a trace of disappointment flashing in his eyes. "What do you mean, colluding with the enemy and betraying the nation? Since ancient times, the victor has been king and the loser an outlaw. For great families like ours, does it make any difference whether the person on that throne is named Yang or Yelü?"
He rose and paced to the window, gazing out at the heavy darkness of the night.
"What matters is that, whoever rules the realm, our Lin Family must survive for generations. So to achieve that goal, we must place our bets in advance."
For someone like Lin Hong, who regarded his family's survival as his highest creed, loyalty to the sovereign and love of country were nothing but a joke used to fool the common people at the bottom. Betting on both sides and keeping on good terms with all was the fundamental rule for surviving troubled times.
"This is the Lin Family's highest secret. Heaven knows it, earth knows it, you know it, and I know it." Lin Hong turned around, his gaze like a blade, and warned them word by word, "If so much as half a word of it gets out, do not blame me... for disregarding the bonds of blood!"
Everyone fell silent like cicadas in the cold, nodding repeatedly in agreement.
Lin Rui was so excited that his face turned red. He thought his father was truly brilliant and far-sighted!
He had already begun imagining how boundless the Lin Family's glory would be when the steppe people took control of the Central Plains and rewarded them for being among the first to submit.
But none of them had any idea that, just above the study, behind the roof ridge, a figure lay motionless in the shadows, as though he had become one with the darkness.
The night breeze stirred the loose strands of hair on his forehead, revealing a pair of clear, bright eyes.