Chapter 427: Blocking the News of Severe Grain‑Store Losses, Creating an Information Gap

Three days later.

Early morning.

Fusi City.

Sunlight streams through the carved lattice windows, casting mottled shadows on the brick floor, yet it cannot dispel the lingering chill inside the hall.

Xiahou Fuyun props his elbow on the desk, pressing his fingertip forcefully against his throbbing temple.

"Father, the grain store inventory is out..."

Xiahou Da's deep voice breaks the silence as he cradles the document with its curled corner wrinkled by his fingertip; his shoulders are rigid, his brows knit into a knot, his expression grave, and he struggles to say, "Ten to nine parts have been burned!"

"The edible portion is now almost gone!"

They have, at the first opportunity, tried to salvage as much as possible...

But the weapons employed by the Zhou Army are so bizarre that merely extinguishing the flames has taken more than a day...

When Xiahou Fuyun opens his eyes, his pupils suddenly contract, his voice trembles with a sharp disbelief, "Almost gone?!"

Before the words finish, he claws the edge of the imperial desk, his fingertip sinking deep into the grain, his breathing growing heavier, his heart feeling icy, and he bites his molars, asking, "How long can Fusi hold out with that?"

Xiahou Fuyun never imagined the Zhou Army's tactics could be this filthy...

If they can't breach the city, they resort to demonic arts to burn the granary!

Utterly shameless!

Xiahou Da lowers his gaze, his eyes resting on the crumpled document in his hand, his fingertip unconsciously tracing the creases, his voice as heavy as a lead weight: "According to Lord Zhao's estimate, it should suffice for the city's soldiers and civilians for less than seven days..."

These seven days are the maximum they can endure after salvaging as much loss as possible...

Xiahou Fuyun's eyes widen dramatically, the red veins on his eyeballs growing more feral, his clenched fist thuds the imperial desk, unable to conceal his frustration: "Seven days?! That's all?!"

Before the words finish, a sharp headache strikes, he raises his hand to press his temple hard, his fingertip rubbing the heated skin back and forth, yet he cannot suppress the surging rage.

The next moment, he slams the desk upright, the anger in his chest nearly bursting his throat, each word laced with clenched‑tooth ferocity: "The Zhou Army is truly a scoundrel!"

His peripheral glance catches the newly risen sun outside, and the July warmth feels more biting than winter.

Chen Yan is far more scheming and despicable than his grandfather!

What a grandson!

Xiahou Da sees his father's fury blazing, steps forward half a pace, lifts his hands slightly then presses them back to his sides, his tone urgent yet as calm as possible: "Father, berating the Zhou Army is already futile..."

He pauses, his gaze landing on Xiahou Fuyun's tense side face, his tone adding a hint of urgency: "We must consider what to do after the seven days are over."

Xiahou Da can already foresee that after the grain is cut off, countless civilians will starve to death, and there will be a human‑purgatory of children being fed to each other...

Ineffective rage accomplishes nothing; plans must be made early.

"Damn it!"

Xiahou Fuyun whirls his sleeve, the Brothel sweeps across the desk, scattering the brush, ink, paper, and inkstone onto the floor.

"Clatter" of breaking sounds erupts in the hall, reaching the ears before his fury does.

His chest heaves violently, the red veins in his eyes nearly coalescing, and he roars in a coarse voice: "Lead the army out of the city at once and engage the Zhou Army in decisive battle!"

"A decisive showdown!"

Every line between the words is a gamble of all‑or‑nothing resolve.

He appears as if a broken pot, ready to smash.

Anyway, we can no longer hold the defense...

Then fight!

A fight to the death with the Zhou Army might even snatch a sliver of hope!

Xiahou Da sees his father's mind clouded by rage, his brows knotting instantly, his face full of helplessness, yet he forces his anxiety down, steps forward and urgently warns: "Father, absolutely not!"

He lifts his hands slightly, his tone urgent and pleading, his gaze fixed on Xiahou Fuyun: "The Zhou Army will not give our forces a chance to exit the city and deploy formations!"

Want a decisive battle?

Then we need the Zhou Army's consent!

Otherwise it's just sending heads, a pure gourd‑baby rescue for grandpa, letting Zhou State generals rack up war merits...

Xiahou Fuyun's angry expression gradually fades, his tense shoulders slump, and the fierce resolve that once burned like sinking a boat seems drained of strength.

He looks at Xiahou Da's urgent gaze, remains silent for a moment, then lets out a heavy sigh, his voice full of fatigue: "Alas... you're right!"

Immediately, he turns and walks slowly back to the throne, leans on the armrest and sits down gradually; his once upright back now slightly hunches, his gaze dimming a few shades, completely lacking his former authority.

After a long silence, he lifts his eyes to Xiahou Da, his tone bearing an unmasked melancholy: "Da'er, now that things stand as they do, what plan do you have?"

Xiahou Da lowers his eyes, silent for a moment, his fingertip unconsciously tracing the document's edge, inhales deeply, steps forward half a pace, fists clasped, bows, his voice heavy yet unusually firm: "Father, the only plan now is to negotiate peace with the Zhou Army!"

Xiahou Fuyun hears this, his sorrow deepening, he lifts his hand to rub his tense brow, a bitter smile tugging his mouth, the smile full of self‑mockery and doubt: "Negotiate peace?"

He pauses, his gaze landing on the butter tea long gone cold on the imperial desk, his voice low and feeble: "The Zhou Army burned our granary and trapped us within the city; with such an advantageous position, would Chen Yan agree?"

The name "Chen Yan" is uttered especially lightly, yet it hides an unspeakable complexity.

As for negotiating peace, Xiahou Fuyun hadn't never considered it...

But putting himself in that position, if he held such a great advantage, would he be willing to agree to peace?

The answer is obvious...

Xiahou Da hears this, his mouth curling into a half‑smile, a hint of inscrutable meaning flashing in his eyes.

He straightens, taps the document lightly with his fingertip, his voice even lower yet with a hint of certainty: "The Zhou Army burned our granary, but they do not know the specifics!"

The granary's destruction is undeniable, yet because of Fusi City's walls, they have no idea how much food actually remains!

They can fully exploit an information gap...

Xiahou Fuyun pauses in slight bewilderment, his pupils narrowing a bit, as if realizing something; his previously dim gaze suddenly brightens, as if catching a sliver of light in a dire situation.

He jerks upright, his previously hunched back straightening a few inches, his voice carrying unmistakable astonishment and urgency: "Da'er, do you mean...?!"

Xiahou Da slowly nods, the strands of hair hanging over his forehead swaying gently with the motion, the certainty in his eyes becoming clearer, he steps to the desk, his voice extremely low yet each word resonant: "First, block the news of severe grain‑store losses..."

He paused, lifted his hand to dip a bit of leftover ink from the inkstone, drew a simple outline of a grain depot in the blank part of the document, and continued in a deep voice: "If we release that great fire again, it will only scorch the superficial rumors about the granary!"

"Let the merchants and common folk in the city know that although the granary caught fire, it was extinguished in time, only the outer thatched mats and a small amount of aged grain burned; the granary's foundation remains intact and its stores are still ample."

"We could even have the royal kitchen prepare extra porridge today, distribute it to the guards at the City Gate, and present it to the Zhou Army scouts outside the city."

"In that way, we will have bargaining chips and leeway for negotiations with the Zhou Army!"

At this moment, all they need to do is blur the line between falsehood and truth...

Once the alliance is sealed, even if the Zhou Army discovers the truth later, it will be too late to regret!

Xiahou Da didn't believe that Chen Yan would dare gamble the Yuwen Clan's national credit and blatantly breach the pact!

"Brilliant!"

Xiahou Fuyun felt the fog in his mind instantly blown away, and the clouds of worry that had lingered for days were swept clean.

He slammed his thigh hard, rose straight from the throne, his eyes shining brighter than the bronze lamps in the hall, and even his voice trembled with uncontainable excitement: "It's truly marvelous!"

Immediately, he hurried to Xiahou Da's side, raised his hand and patted his son's shoulder, the force full of praise and satisfaction: "You truly are the Great Khan's Qilin child!"

Qilin child? Hahaha! ……….. Xiahou Da laughed heartily in his mind, extremely proud, his face still calm, he bowed slightly and clasped his hands, his tone steady yet appropriately modest: "Thank you, Father Great Khan, for the praise!"

As he spoke, a hint of profound depth flashed in his eyes.

With the feat of turning the tide, why worry about the Crown Prince's seat? It will be seized without effort!

Xiahou Fuyun let out a long sigh and said, "If that's the case, the danger of national ruin is essentially resolved..."

Having said that, he returned to his throne, lifted the chilled butter tea and took a sip; though tasteless, it seemed to suppress the last tremor of panic in his heart.

Xiahou Da seemed to recall something, stepped forward half a pace, furrowed his brows, and solemnly reminded, "Father Great Khan, remember to appear firm when negotiating with the Zhou Army..."

He paused, his gaze sharpening a bit, and continued, "It would be best to show that we will fight as long as they intend to fight!"

"Great Khan understands!"

Xiahou Fuyun's hand holding the tea cup paused, then he nodded heavily, a flash of comprehension in his eyes: "We must never let the Zhou Army see that we are strong on the outside but hollow within..."

"Exactly."

Xiahou Da heard this, gave a slight nod, did a brief calculation, and said, "But we can't be too hard; we can cede some territory to the Zhou Army appropriately..."

"At worst we can retake it later!"

That balance must be handled precisely.

Refusing any concession will only force the wolves outside the city into a frenzy.

If the Zhou Army fights to the end, our ruse will be exposed...

Just as the father and son reached consensus, a light, steady footstep sound suddenly came from outside the hall.

A palace attendant lowered his head and hurried in, hands clasped before him, his voice carrying a cautious urgency: "Great Khan, the Zhou Army has sent envoys, requesting an audience!"