Heatwaves rolled above the battlements, distorting even the distant silhouette of the Yin Mountains with their oppressive swelter.
Xu Qinghuan stood alone on the city wall, her fingertips tracing slowly across the scalding bricks.
Tucked in her sleeve was an urgent bulletin that had just arrived via the waterways from the capital, its words steeped in peril.
Xu Youde's masterful retreat-as-an-advance maneuver in the imperial throne room had ruthlessly forced the Minister of Revenue, Shang Qitai, into a dead end.
Xu Qinghuan only had to close her eyes to imagine how spectacular Shang Qitai's old face must look right now. The Emperor had given him a strict one-month deadline to cover a military grain deficit of several million taels.
Shang Qitai was undoubtedly so anxious that he couldn't sleep, probably wishing he could pry up the floorboards of the Ministry of Revenue's main hall just to find some silver.
The political situation in the capital had reached a critical juncture. The Xu family had made their preparations and were simply waiting for Shang Qitai to expose his own flaws.
From the parade ground below the city walls came the shouts of soldiers drilling. The sharp sound of spears piercing the air mingled with the muffled thuds of clashing leather armor, injecting a fierce spirit into the sweltering summer.
Xu Qinghuan withdrew her gaze, her mind beginning to dissect the trap she had laid the day before.
Before the Raid Camp departed the pass, Xu Zhan had taken three fire-thunder canisters with him.
She had specifically instructed Old Wu to be a bit clumsy when clearing the battlefield, ensuring that a few shattered iron fragments and scorched fuses were left behind.
Those were clues she had deliberately left for the Helian spies.
The Helian spies had sharp senses; the moment they caught the scent of gunpowder, they would follow the trail. As long as they brought those pieces of scrap iron back to the Royal Court, Chen Changfeng's days would be numbered...
This June weather not only left people parched, but it also stoked the fires of their temper, making it impossible to suppress.
Chen Changfeng was hiding within the Helian Royal Court. He was extremely cautious in his daily life and, relying on his own cunning methods, had managed to unify the various grassland tribes.
Against a man like him, slow and careful plotting was useless. She had to use firearms that transcended this era to completely shatter his understanding of the world.
She needed to make him truly realize that Zhenbei City harbored someone capable of uprooting the very foundations of the grasslands.
Only by forcing him into a desperate obsession to march south and kill immediately could the initiative of this war truly fall into the hands of the Daqian border army.
A sudden commotion erupted from the corridor inside the city gates. Li Sheng strode over, cursing loudly. In his hand, he dragged a thick, mud-stained hemp rope, and at the other end was tied a disheveled, dirt-covered man.
The man, choking on mugwort smoke, was rolling his eyes back and foaming at the mouth. His hands were bound tightly behind his back. It was the very spy who had sneaked into the army cooks' camp a few days ago to count horse dung.
Stop faking! Keep faking and see what I do to you! Li Sheng planted a heavy kick on the spy's backside, sending him stumbling forward two steps, then turned and shouted up at the city wall.
Eldest Miss, this bastard was eavesdropping behind the kitchens. Old Man Sun splashed him with a pot of boiling soup, and when he tried to scale the wall and run, I bagged him right over the head with a horse dung sack! Should we drag him to the military law office and peel a layer of his skin off?
Hearing the words peel his skin, the spy shuddered in sheer terror, stopped foaming at the mouth, and fell to his knees, kowtowing desperately for mercy.
Before Xu Qinghuan could answer, a deafening uproar exploded from the blacksmith's workshop, completely drowning out the spy's pleas for mercy.
Su Mu, sporting a mop of disheveled hair and a face covered in black soot, was waving a massive iron hammer as he chased Manager Zhou of the Armory all around the courtyard. Saltpeter! I need saltpeter! You clearly have ten carts left in that warehouse, so why are you withholding it from Sunset Valley? If you delay my gunpowder mixing, I'll throw you into the furnace tonight and melt you into molten iron!
Manager Zhou fled with his arms covering his head, howling as he ran that the rules of the Armory could not be broken. The two of them chased each other in circles around the iron furnace.
Watching this chaotic yet vibrantly energetic scene below, Xu Qinghuan shook her head. Zhenbei City finally had some life to it.
Just half an hour ago, fast riders from the Raid Camp had entered through the north gate, delivering a top-secret military report.
Xu Zhan had intercepted the Right Luli King's secret convoy at Black Water Gully. Not only had he annihilated the guards, but he had also brought back a slave named Amur.
To save his own life, the slave had surrendered intelligence of massive consequence.
Not only did he draw a map of the Helian supply routes where their defenses were weak, but he also exposed a massive scandal: Daqian nobles were secretly trading refined iron armor for warhorses with the Right Luli King.
This was a rare and valuable bargaining chip.
Xu Qinghuan leaned against the battlements, her fingers tapping lightly against the scorching bricks.
Since Shang Qitai was desperately looking for a scapegoat in the capital.
Then Xu Qinghuan would use this momentum to strike, directing the clues from Black Water Gully straight toward the capital.
She needed to toss the capital a massive lead, packaging the Right Luli King's refined iron armor smuggling case into ironclad proof of corruption within the waterway transport system...
This would be enough to make Shang Qitai believe he had found a chance to turn the tables, enough to completely throw the First Prince's camp into disarray, forcing them into a bitter internal struggle.
The wind had shifted. The clouds over the Yin Mountains hung low, carrying the oppressive weight of an approaching storm.
Xu Qinghuan lifted her head, her gaze sweeping past the vast wasteland toward the direction of the Helian Royal Court.
The gloomy face of Chen Changfeng surfaced in her mind. At this very moment, that man must have already received the fragments of the fire-thunder canister and was gnashing his teeth as he stared at the shattered iron.
The inherent coldness deep in her bones slowly seeped out. Under the blazing sun, her identity as a transmigrator was fully exposed.
She did not belong to this era, and naturally, she possessed none of the pedantic pity of sour scholars.
She had seen with her own eyes the skulls crushed beneath the hooves of the Helian cavalry. She had witnessed the rotting, foul-smelling amputated legs in the medical camp caused by a lack of medicine and food, and she had seen the barren lands poisoned by alkaline salt.
If this land was to ever see a rebirth, she first had to utterly destroy the old rules, the old aristocratic families, and the old royal courts, leaving absolutely no room for mercy.
Xu Qinghuan felt no guilt whatsoever. Since she had taken this position, the choice was no longer hers.
Clapping the dust from her hands, she watched the dirt drift away with the wind and softly uttered a sentence. Her voice was quickly swept away by the hot breeze, but her killing intent was completely unmasked:
These June sparks should be cast toward the grasslands. Perhaps in a few days, this hot wind will carry not only yellow sand, but the stench of blood.
