Chapter 137

Yangzhou, Wang Family stronghold.

Under the pavilion in the center of the courtyard, Wang Po leaned on a pear-wood recliner, a plain light blanket draped over him. His hair was completely snow-white, a few strands sticking to his wrinkled cheeks, making him look even older.

The wrinkles on his face were deep as gullies, running from his forehead to his jaw; his eyes were half-closed, his breathing slow and shallow, his chest rising and falling slightly with each breath—if not for the occasional faint tremor of his fingertips, anyone would have thought he had long since fallen into a deep sleep.

Wang Zhen and Wang Xin stood respectfully beside the recliner, both wearing dark brocade robes, their postures upright yet daring not to slack in the slightest.

They bowed their heads, eyes fixed on the ground, not even daring to breathe, fearful of disturbing the Wang Family's former steward before them. The courtyard was eerily quiet, only the rustle of leaves and Wang Po's gentle breathing could be heard; an intangible solemnity permeated the air, causing their heartbeats to unconsciously slow.

Before them lay a letter just sent back from the north; the envelope bore no writing, only a vermilion seal stamped on its flap—the unique mark of Su Qin.

"Father, Su Qin succeeded." Wang Zhen's voice trembled with barely contained excitement and admiration, "The Khitan's hundred thousand cavalry were routed beneath Wei Prefecture, discarding armor and helmets; Yelü Deguang fled north in disgrace. That traitor Shi Jingtang was also captured alive. The Sixteen Prefectures of Yan-Yun have been held!"

Wang Po's eyelids twitched slightly, but he did not open his eyes.

Wang Xin also added, "Former Head of the Family, Su Qin is indeed a talent. He not only successfully organized the allied forces, but after the battle, following your instructions, he skillfully stirred the soldiers under Fu Yanqing, An Chongrong, and Shi Hongzhao."

"Now, these three families, vying for control of Hedong, are on the verge of fighting. The entire north will plunge into melee over the next few years, and many war-weary soldiers are likely to defect to Jiangnan."

"Hmm."

A soft nasal sound came from Wang Po's throat.

Wang Zhen and Wang Xin exchanged a glance, both puzzled. They had thought that hearing such tremendous good news would make their old father overjoyed, but his reaction now seemed strangely indifferent.

Wang Xiu's consciousness, within Wang Po's aged body, indeed had little turbulence.

All of this was within his expectations.

"Temporarily united for the sake of national righteousness..." Wang Xiu's mind flashed that thought, tinged with a barely perceptible mockery.

He knew all too well the nature of those warlords—like a pack of jackals that temporarily join forces to seize prey, only to turn on each other over the spoils the moment the prey is in hand or the threat is gone.

He had seen too many such examples: after the An-Shi Rebellion, regional warlords carved out territories, with countless alliances sworn in blood today turning to swords tomorrow; at the end of the Tang, during Huang Chao's uprising, various military governors had once united to suppress it, but once the revolt was quelled they immediately fell into a scramble for the empire.

A pack of hungry wolves, having devoured an imported wild ox, would naturally turn to snarling over who could get an extra bite of meat.

"Fool." Wang Xiu muttered to himself.

That "fool" was aimed at Fu Yanqing and the others. Still, this is fine—a chaotic north is exactly what the Wang Family desires.

"Zhen'er."

Wang Po finally opened his eyes slowly, his cloudy gaze turning to his son.

"Yes, father."

"Su Qin, well done. When he returns, let him enter the Wang Family Academy as chief instructor. Award him a thousand taels of silver, and grant him a manor within Yangzhou City." Wang Po's voice no longer carried the vigor it once had.

"Yes!" Wang Zhen felt a surge of joy; this reward was certainly not light.

From now on, Su Qin could be considered a true confidant of the Wang Family, and the family had gained another talent.

"But..." Wang Po shifted his tone, "The northern affair ends here."

"Ends here?" Wang Zhen blinked, "Father, do you mean we'll just leave it be? What about Shi Jingtang..."

"He's merely a jumping clown. Hand him over to Fu Yanqing and the others to deal with—whether they kill or dismember him is up to them. Our Wang Family will not stain our hands with this blood." Wang Po said lightly, "Remember our family's rule in this chaotic age: never march north. Our goal does not lie on that already rotted land."

Wang Xiu knew full well that the fractured mess of the Five Dynasties and Ten Kingdoms was not something a single Jiangnan clan could easily tidy up. Even if he wished to, he lacked the strength.

Moreover, should the Wang Family reveal any ambition toward Zhongyuan, they would instantly become a target for all. Perhaps then Fu Yanqing and the others would band together again and turn their swords on us first.

He would have nothing to do with such a thankless, laborious task.

He struggled, and with the support of his guards, slowly rose to his feet.

"To the study."

In the study, Wang Po had Wang Xin unfold a huge world map. His gaze swept past the tumultuous lands of Zhongyuan, then beyond the deserts of the Western Regions.

"Zhen'er, remember: land, wealth, and population are all at sea. Whoever controls the ocean controls the world's future. Let them fight over that Zhongyuan battleground—let them vie, seize, and turn it into a river of blood!"

Wang Zhen and Wang Xin stared at the vast blue expanse on the map, listening to their old father's impassioned words; even though they had heard it before, they were still shaken.

This, is the Wang Family's pattern!

"Father's teachings are correct." Wang Zhen said, bowing slightly.

Wang Po nodded, his gaze shifting from the distant west back eastward, finally settling on that narrow island nation.

"Wakoku... Has Wang Meng's report arrived?"

Wang Xin hurriedly pulled the latest report from a stack of documents nearby and handed it over.

"Former Head of the Family, this is a secret report just sent from Zhen Dong City."

Wang Po took the report and examined it carefully. It detailed how, with the Wang Family's backing, the Matsura clan had unified Kyushu, and how the Wang Academy's ideological remolding of Wakoku's younger generation was proceeding smoothly.

"The time is nearly ripe." Wang Po murmured to himself.

Wang Zhen and Wang Xin both pricked up their ears.

"Father, what opportunity?"

Wang Po set the report down, and a hint of cruelty appeared on his gaunt face.

"Kyushu is merely a beginning. I want all of Wakoku. But letting the Matsura clan take it inch by inch is too slow, and governing it afterward would be a major headache."

He tapped a finger lightly on the narrow, elongated map of Wakoku.

"This land has accumulated too many contradictions: the oppression of peasants by nobles, the exploitation of farmers by warriors, the contempt of daimyo for the emperor... These are all kindling. We need only..."

A flash of terrifying light shone in Wang Po's eyes.

"Set a few fires."

He turned to Wang Xin: "Pass my order to Wang Meng. Have him begin the second phase of the Red Earth Plan."

"The Red Earth Plan?" Wang Zhen and Wang Xin had never heard that name before, and looks of confusion crossed their faces.

Wang Po offered no explanation, merely saying coldly: "Tell Wang Meng I want Wakoku to ignite from south to north. I want their emperor, their daimyo, and their warriors to plunge into an endless civil war. I want them to burn their own country to a wasteland."

"When they have bled out their last drop, when they are utterly despairing of their own nation, our Wang Family will step in as 'saviors' to pick up the pieces."

"By then, what we gain will not be merely a patch of land, but a nation whose spirit and body will be utterly subjugated to our new Wakoku!"

Wang Zhen and Wang Xin, hearing their old father's words, felt only a chill surge from the soles of their feet straight to the crown of their heads.

Too ruthless.

They didn't know the specific details of the plan, but just hearing that, it was already enough to utterly destroy a country!

"Go." Wang Po waved his hand, a trace of fatigue appearing on his face, "Do as I said."

"Yes!"

Wang Zhen and Wang Xin bowed and retreated.

In the study, only Wang Po remained.

Wang Xiu watched the bright spring light outside the window, but his heart was filled with icy cold.

He slowly rose and walked to the window, his gaze passing over the peach blossoms in the courtyard, looking toward the distant southeast, where the sea of Japan lay. The sea breeze might not reach the lands south of the Yangtze, but the grim sight of Japan's iron hooves trampling all over China's lands in later generations—those piles of white bones like mountains, the displaced commoners, the burned‑down cities—was etched into his mind like a brand.

"He is not a person who loves killing, but at this moment, his heart holds not the slightest hesitation."

"For the Wang family's eternity, for the future of China..." Wang Xiu murmured softly, his fingertips unconsciously crushing the peach blossom petals that had fallen on the windowsill, like crushed hope. He knew clearly what he had to do: to stir up war in the Japanese islands, to cut off their civilizational inheritance, to completely break their wings before this nation had fully formed and before it possessed the power to threaten China, thus emasculating it at the root.

He could almost see, hundreds of years later, Japanese warships crossing the East Sea, fangs bared, lunging toward China's coastline; he could hear the wails of the commoners beneath the iron hooves, and smell the scorched scent of burned‑down cities.

Those images were too horrifying, causing his heart to clutch in pain. "Some things must be done by someone." Wang Xiu drew a deep breath, his gaze growing ever more resolute, as if he had made a decision that could not be shaken.

The sunlight remained bright, yet it could not dispel the chill in Wang Xiu's heart. He raised his head, gazing at the southeastern sky, and silently said in his heart: "Japan, don't blame me for being ruthless."

"If blame there must be, blame you for being born next door to me, blame you for being destined to become a scourge to China in later ages. Today I have cut off your path, so that China's descendants will no longer suffer the calamities you bring."

(PS: The author had a short video yesterday, just signed a contract, also about Japan, a fairly good inspiration seen on the short-video app; interested friends can visit the author's homepage or search for the book title "Wudalang Eastward Crossing: From Selling Pancakes to Founding a Nation", give some support to this struggling author!! Thanks thanks!)