Chapter 724: Swallowing Both Ends, the Luoyang Prince Watches the Fire from Across the River

In early August, the scorching midsummer heat had not yet fully faded; the day's stifling warmth, after night fell, turned into a thin, moist night breeze.

Central Plains interior, Henan Dao, Luoyang.

Luoyang Prince Manor.

The power heart of the entire Henan Dao.

Deep within the manor, in a study lavishly appointed yet exuding a suppressed murderous aura, a copper‑crane incense burner was gently releasing a wisp of precious Western Region dragon‑scent incense.

The dim, steady candlelight flickered, casting the silhouette on the main seat onto the carved screen, like a tiger coiled in the abyss of darkness.

Hou Wanjing wore a dark‑black everyday robe embroidered with a Dark Gold Python Pattern, no crown, and casually tied his hair with a single Jade Hairpin.

On both sides beneath Hou Wanjing's desk, like two cast‑iron towers, stood two hulking generals with tiger backs and bear waists.

Also present were Zhu Hun Qi Yuan and Chi Luo Tong.

At this moment, in the study filled with martial generals' murderous aura, stood Shao Ling, who appeared gentle and refined in contrast.

"My lord," Shao Ling bowed slightly, respectfully placed the thick register in hand onto Hou Wanjing's desk, voice pressed low, "News has come from the south: the old monk in Jiankang City of Jiangnan has kept his word this time. To let us firmly pin down Gao Ying of Jinyang in the Central Plains, he has issued a secret edict. The third batch of provisions and military supplies we requested was, five days ago, secretly sent north via the Bian River, and has now arrived safely at the southern border of our Henan Dao."

At this point, a trace of unmistakable delight appeared on Shao Ling's gaunt face; he pointed a finger at the register, and excitedly reported, "From Jiankang this time we received fifty thousand shi of premium rice, three thousand sets of finely crafted Infantry Armor, ten thousand Long Spears forged from refined steel, and also enough strong bows and crossbows to equip a full camp! Though the old monk spends his days in the temple eating vegetarian meals and chanting, he is not at all stingy with anything used against the North Dynasty."

Hou Wanjing, after hearing Shao Ling's report, finally showed a barely perceptible ripple on his rock‑hard, stone‑like face.

He slowly extended his gnarled, calloused hand and lifted the crystal‑clear Glass Cup from the table.

The cup held a deep crimson, blood‑like West Region Grape Wine, which, under the candlelight, exuded an alluring yet dangerous aura.

Hou Wanjing brought the cup to his lips, took a gentle sip, where sweetness and bitterness intertwined on his tongue. A razor‑sharp smile curled at the corner of his mouth as he calmly uttered a single word: "Good."

Yet a single "Good" could not satisfy the appetite of this scheming mastermind.

Hou Wanjing set the cup down; with a light "Bang," the quiet study rang as if a war drum had been struck. His deep eyes suddenly hardened, instantly radiating a chilling, extreme greed and cunning.

"But Shao Ling, you think you can send me off that easily?" Hou Wanjing's tone carried unabashed contempt as he sneered and rose, "Fifty thousand shi of grain sounds like a lot, but poured into the bottomless pit of our hundred‑thousand‑strong army, it's just noise! The old monk wants our Luoyang forces to be his shield, to bleed and die for him in the Central Plains; how can such a meager bone suffice for chewing?"

"You must arrange it at once! Continue to send the Imperial Envoy south to Jiankang to beg poverty for me! Tell that useless emissary that when he reaches the Jiankang court, he must kowtow heavily before me, preferably scraping his forehead against the blue bricks until it bleeds!"

"Tell the Imperial Envoy to inform the old monk that our Luoyang army, defending the Southern Dynasty's realm, is already without clothing and without food! If Jiankang does not dispatch another hundred thousand shi of grain and fifty thousand taels of silver as military pay, my hundred‑thousand troops will starve beyond endurance; should the situation deteriorate, we will have to cross the Huai River and go to his prosperous Jiangnan, the land of fish and rice, to beg for a meal!"

These words, one could say, epitomized the ultimate blend of political thuggery and warlord intimidation.

Upon hearing this, Shao Ling not only felt no objection but, understanding perfectly, covered half his face with a feather fan and answered with a sinister smile, "Your Majesty is wise! Shuyi will draft the state letter at once. That old monk is single‑mindedly intent on reclaiming the Central Plains and securing his name in history; his fear of Jinyang runs to his bones. As long as we give him a little scare, even if he scrapes gold dust off the golden Buddha statues in those temples, he will have to gather the military supplies for us!"

"That's not all!" Hou Wanjing turned the jade ring on his thumb, the calculating glint in his eyes deepening. He cast his gaze toward the western wall of the study, where a geomantic map of Guanzhong was hung.

"Besides the old monk in the south, the old fox from Chang'an on the west, surnamed Yuwen, must not be left idle!" Hou Wanjing snorted coldly, his tone icy, "Yuwen Hu had previously promised me that as long as I could hold Gao Ying's main force in Henan Dao, he would covertly supply us with arms. Yet autumn has arrived, and we haven't seen a trace of anything!"

"Send a Secret Line Communication to Chang'an! Tell Yuwen Hu that Gao Ying now amasses heavy troops on the north bank of the Yellow River, eyeing me like a tiger! If Yuwen Hu does not wish me to fall directly to Jinyang and instead join forces to strike the gates of Guanzhong, he must immediately, at once, deliver the five thousand warhorses and twenty thousand sets of armor he promised. Miss even one, and I will have to reconsider carefully!"

"Shuyi, obeyed!" Shao Ling bowed deeply.

In his heart he silently admired; his lord's stratagem of 'playing both sides, swallowing from both ends' was executed with consummate mastery, reaching the pinnacle.

Looking at the chaotic world, the three states of Zhou, Qi, and Liang stood in a tripartite stalemate.

And Luoyang lay precisely in the core vortex where the three powers clashed.

Originally such a four‑sided battlefield was the most lethal Dead End Trap, yet under Hou Wanjing's manipulation, he forcefully turned the mutual suspicion and hostility among the three states, converting the hostile Zhou and Liang into Mobile Blood Bags that fed his own hundred‑thousand army.

Zhou sought Luoyang to check Qi; Liang wanted Luoyang as a buffer.

Hou Wanjing thus walked the knife's edge, crazily sucking the blood of the two great empires to swell his long‑planned rebel wings.

Having arranged this grand blood‑sucking scheme, Hou Wanjing seemed to have expended much of his spirit.

He slowly approached the carved wooden window of the study and pushed open the heavy sash.

The sultry night breeze of midsummer instantly surged into the study, brushing his slightly graying temples.

Hou Wanjing placed both hands behind his back, tilted his head slightly, his owl‑like eyes piercing through the layers of night, staring steadfastly toward the distant northwest.

The sky there seemed stained blood‑red by invisible flames of war.

"Counting the days, the great army Gao Ying sent to Xiazhou and Lingzhou should now be meeting Yuwen Hu's Zhou forces..." Hou Wanjing's muttering drifted in the wind, carrying a snake‑like coldness, "The breaking point of the world lies in the northwest. I wonder how the battles over there are faring now..."