Chapter 116: Recruitment Failed

“Jiani, stop! Don’t fight anymore!” Liu Yi’s voice carried immense pressure, like lightning piercing Zhang Jiani’s rage.

Zhang Jiani’s sword tip hovered mere inches from Tukesluo’s throat; startled by Liu Yi’s sudden intervention, she nearly slashed herself.

Under Liu Yi’s forceful restraint, she gradually calmed, yet still glared furiously at Tukesluo.

“Jiani, you’ve already injured someone—if you go on, it will lead to worse consequences!” Liu Yi’s tone was stern and warning.

“He deserves to die! He dared to harbor improper thoughts toward me!” Zhang Jiani’s fury refused to subside.

“Jiani, calm down!” Liu Yi gripped her hands tightly, striving to restore her composure.

Zhang Jiani regarded Tukesluo coldly, filled with disdain and revulsion.

In her eyes, Tukesluo was merely a slave to power, willing to do anything to please his superiors.

She hated his hypocritical face, hated everything about him.

A sarcastic smile curled at Zhang Jiani’s lips as she sneered: “Perfect match—you and this dog official are made for each other.”

Her words dripped with contempt and mockery, as if ridiculing the lowliness between Tukesluo and the dog official.

Jiang Mingyu sensed the awkwardness; he glanced at Zhang Jiani in confusion, as if asking why she had suddenly become so enraged.

Liu Yi scanned the room, sensing the tension, and tried to ease it: “It’s cold outside. Let’s go in, sit down, and talk properly.”

Tukesluo slowly rose from where he’d been beaten, his face flushed with embarrassment and shame.

Jiang Mingyu looked at his dusty face and couldn’t help laughing softly: “You’ve really run into a hard case—and got a beating for it.”

Tukesluo wiped his face defiantly, a flicker of resentment crossing his lips as he muttered: “I let her hit me on purpose.”

Jiang Mingyu scoffed outright, utterly disbelieving his excuse, and urged: “Enough with the excuses. Let’s go inside.”

The atmosphere turned delicate, as if a storm might erupt at any moment. Liu Yi tried to soothe the tension, striving to restore order.

The warm, comfortable parlor carried a faint tea aroma; Liu Yi still wore a smile, as if nothing had happened. She sat gracefully and gestured for Jiang Mingyu to sit.

“Your Excellency has come in person—what brings you here?” Liu Yi spoke gently, her tone perfectly balanced between respect and formality.

Jiang Mingyu picked up the teacup on the table, sipped lightly, his gaze deep as if lost in thought, then slowly said: “Miss, I won’t hide it—I’ve come primarily for Miss Zhang.”

His words were like a pebble dropped into still water; Liu Yi’s smile froze instantly. She felt the subtle shift in atmosphere, a flicker of unease rising in her heart.

Zhang Jiani, seated beside her, made no effort to hide her displeasure. Hearing this, her brows furrowed slightly, her beautiful eyes flashing with coldness. She stared at Jiang Mingyu, voice laced with mockery: “Dog official, you haven’t changed a bit—still blinded by lust. Pitiful and laughable.”

Her words struck Jiang Mingyu like a blade, stirring something within him, yet his expression remained unreadable.

Zhang Jiani shifted tone, watching Jiang Mingyu warily, her words carrying a chilling edge: “What, are you hoping I’ll strike again and show you just how dangerous a seducer I am?”

Zhang Jiani was certain Jiang Mingyu had ulterior motives in seeking her out; she had already raised her guard and felt anger rising.

Tukesluo, seated nearby, heard her mention “seducer” again and muttered under his breath, resentful: “I’m not a seducer.” His voice was so faint it sounded like a mosquito’s buzz.

Liu Yi finally noticed Tukesluo’s disheveled state; her brow furrowed slightly, sensing the tension, and she swiftly interrupted Zhang Jiani: “Your Excellency, what exactly is your purpose in seeking Jiani? Please be clear.”

Amid the tense atmosphere, Jiang Mingyu finally got to the point: “You both know—I’ve recruited fifty thousand troops to defend Shangmu. But the problem is, I still lack several elite leaders capable of commanding independently.”

His voice carried a hint of bitterness, as if recalling painful memories, then continued: “What I mean is—could I possibly ask Miss Zhang to lead part of my troops?”

Jiang Mingyu knew that in this era, a woman commanding troops was unthinkable. But he also knew the situation was urgent—he had to try, to win Zhang Jiani’s support.

Predictably, Zhang Jiani’s eyes flashed with deep contempt; her voice dripped with scorn: “A woman leading troops? Dog official, you’ve got no shortage of imagination. Even if you traveled the entire world, where have you ever seen a woman take the battlefield?”

She shifted tone, sarcasm thickening: “If women all took up arms, what use would you dog officials even be?”

In Zhang Jiani’s mind, Jiang Mingyu had become a complete incompetent—so desperate he had to beg a woman to lead troops. She deemed his stupidity beyond measure.

A cold conclusion left her lips: “I think the previous county magistrates were foolish enough—but you, dog official, are even more clueless. Don’t waste your time dreaming—I won’t lift a finger for you.”

The era’s beliefs were indeed hard to change; a woman leading troops was still unthinkable. Zhang Jiani’s fierce reaction was understandable.

Though rebuffed, Jiang Mingyu did not fully abandon hope; he still tried to persuade: “Miss Zhang, defending Shangmu is everyone’s duty—we should all contribute to our homeland. Please reconsider.”

But Zhang Jiani’s stance hardened further; she snapped: “If you have nothing else, take your seducer and leave at once! If you provoke me again, I won’t spare Liu Yi’s face—I’ll throw you out myself!”

As soon as she spoke, her hand gripped her sword hilt, her posture resolute, ready to fight at any moment.

In this situation, Jiang Mingyu knew further argument was useless. He bowed his head and took his leave from the Liu household. He understood: more pleading would only provoke greater rage—Zhang Jiani might even attack him.

In the cold wind, Jiang Mingyu rode his horse, silently laughing at himself: Why wouldn’t she agree? From his modern perspective, this opportunity was rare—anyone should seize it.

Beside him, Tukesluo also looked dejected and spoke: “Honestly, Your Excellency, I think your idea is flawed. As Miss Zhang said, letting a woman lead troops is truly absurd. Even if she went, would those senior officers obey her?”

Hearing this belated remark, Jiang Mingyu glared at him: “If you thought this too, why didn’t you say so earlier?”

Tukesluo sighed helplessly: “This was always going to be difficult.”

Jiang Mingyu fell into thought, sighing: “I thought Miss Liu might help on this front—but now I see I was overly naive.”

A wave of disappointment and loneliness washed over him; his earlier hopes turned to empty joy.

Tukesluo gazed into the distance, remarking: “Miss Liu didn’t let that ‘she-tiger’ kill me on the spot—that’s already more than she owed me.”

When he said “she-tiger,” his tone carried a hint of nostalgia.

But Jiang Mingyu didn’t notice the subtle shift in Tukesluo’s words; he continued on his own: “Zhang Jiani’s refusal is final. After returning, we must find another way.”

Another sigh, heavy with loss and despair. The wind howled, the world white and barren. He pulled his coat tighter and rode homeward. A deep sense of loss enveloped him—and slowly, the desolate snowfield.

His and Tukesluo’s figures faded into the distance, vanishing into the endless snow.

The falling snow witnessed their melancholy departure—and foreshadowed greater unknown trials ahead.

Five days later, in the mist-shrouded Qi Prince’s mansion, the atmosphere was heavy and oppressive.

The Qi Prince sat before a large desk, his face dark as twilight, brows knotted, eyes flickering with doubt and unease. He felt this situation was strange—as if he had suddenly plunged into a tangled mess.

Beside him, a middle-aged man resembling a private secretary spoke nervously: “Your Highness, you must be careful—if His Majesty senses anything suspicious, we’re in trouble.”

His voice was low and hoarse, thick with deep concern.

The Qi Prince took a deep breath, paused, then said: “Indeed—if His Majesty suspects anything, our position will be extremely dangerous.”

His words revealed vigilance toward the situation, as if sensing an impending risk.

The secretary nodded, continuing: “Perhaps His Majesty has somehow obtained intelligence—or found some trace.”

The Qi Prince stared at the desk, his gaze deep and thoughtful: “Are you suggesting Jiang Mingyu reported our situation to His Majesty?”

The secretary awkwardly touched his beard: “If not, why would His Majesty suddenly inquire about Jiang Mingyu in yesterday’s imperial decree?”

“Amid the current court crisis, he turns his attention to Jiang Mingyu in distant Shangmu—this is truly inexplicable.”

The Qi Prince’s brows tightened further as he seriously considered the secretary’s words.

The Qi Prince drew a deep breath, his eyes flashing with alertness: “Indeed, His Majesty’s actions are baffling. Our plan has always been secret—how could he have discovered it so quickly?”

The secretary thought a moment, then said: “Perhaps Inspector Wang Zhe has become His Majesty’s man—they may have collaborated and leaked our plan.”

The Qi Prince’s gloom deepened; he began seriously weighing the secretary’s analysis.

“Inspector Wang Zhe now holds considerable power, and Jiang Mingyu may have conspired with him to expose our plan. His Majesty’s awareness is no surprise.”

The Qi Prince’s face grew darker, as if lost in a whirlpool of thoughts, unable to decide.

The secretary clenched his hands, lips trembling slightly, finally spoke: “Your Highness, you must remain calm. We must respond steadily—no rash actions.”

“The situation is extremely delicate. One misstep could trigger a chain reaction. If His Majesty suspects us, we’ll fall into greater peril.”

The Qi Prince closed his eyes, suppressing his emotions. After a moment of silence, he opened them, voice firm: “You’re right. We must stay calm, avoid impulsiveness. We must handle this calmly and find a solution.”

The secretary nodded slightly, then added softly: “The situation is urgent—we must act to ensure Jiang Mingyu doesn’t become a threat.”

The Qi Prince’s eyes gleamed with resolve: “Correct. We cannot sit idle. Jiang Mingyu must die. Only when he’s silenced can we stand invincible.”

His voice carried determination and coldness—as if an irrevocable decision had been made.

“But why hasn’t Tang Cheng acted yet?” he muttered, increasingly annoyed.

The secretary frowned, trying to calm the Qi Prince: “Your Highness, perhaps Tang Cheng encountered obstacles—the situation may be more complex than we thought.”

“We must not act rashly. We must first understand what truly happened before making decisions.”

The Qi Prince sighed heavily, reluctantly nodding: “You’re right—but right now, the most important thing is to confirm Jiang Mingyu’s death.”

His expression remained grim, hinting at inner urgency and anxiety.

As the two were lost in thought, hurried footsteps sounded outside the door.

"Your Highness, the messenger from Sima Tang Cheng requests an audience!" the servant reported urgently.

The Qi Prince’s eyes lit up, as if seeing a glimmer of hope: “Quickly, bring him in.”

He eagerly awaited the messenger’s news—as if it were their final chance to escape their predicament.

After much effort, the messenger entered the hall, his body covered in dust from a long journey. His face showed exhaustion and anxiety, mixed with unease.

Having traveled for days, the messenger now knelt before the Qi Prince and handed him a letter, carefully saying: “Your Highness, please receive this.”

The Qi Prince took the letter, tore it open eagerly, and read each word. As he read, his face darkened like ink.

Suddenly, he slammed his fist on the table, voice thunderous: “How dare he fail?!”

The secretary, puzzled, asked: “Your Highness, what happened?”

The Qi Prince’s voice brimmed with fury and disbelief: “Tang Cheng says his plan to kill Jiang Mingyu failed!”

His face turned ashen, eyes blazing with uncontainable rage. The secretary froze, stunned by the sudden news.

He slammed the table again, the sound echoing through the room: “I never imagined Jiang Mingyu had such power!”

The secretary frowned, puzzled: “Your Highness, what exactly happened?”

The Qi Prince’s face was like storm clouds gathering: “Tang Cheng told me—he failed to eliminate Jiang Mingyu.”

His voice carried profound disbelief—as if he couldn’t accept his own plan had collapsed.

“Worse still, Jiang Mingyu is recruiting and arming troops in Shangmu, commanding fifty thousand soldiers, training troops, suppressing bandits, and even expanding his business.”

The Qi Prince slammed the table again, a mocking sneer curling his lips: “I never imagined Jiang Mingyu had this kind of ability?”

The secretary, puzzled, asked cautiously: “Your Highness, what exactly happened?”

The Qi Prince’s face was like a dark cloud about to burst: “Tang Cheng says his plan to kill Jiang Mingyu failed.”

“Not only that—Jiang Mingyu has recruited fifty thousand troops in Shangmu, training soldiers, suppressing bandits, busy as ever.”

He ground his teeth: “Now, no one in Yasimo doesn’t know Jiang Mingyu’s name. Damn him.”

"Most hateful of all, he has actually started doing business—brazenly, clearly showing not the slightest regard for this Prince."

Anger surged in his heart; he kicked out hard, sending the embroidered stool flying far away.

The Private Secretary frowned, stroked his beard, and tried to ease the tension: "My Lord, please calm down. Jiang Mingyu has recruited so many men—how is it we heard not a whisper?"

Prince Qi sneered: "The Ministry of War is entirely under the control of that dog emperor—how could we possibly learn of Jiang Mingyu’s movements?"

He furrowed his brow, as if suddenly understanding: "Now I see why the dog emperor suddenly brought up Jiang Mingyu—fifty thousand troops. He’s giving me a warning."

"You must understand—once those fifty thousand men fall into the dog emperor’s hands, how great an impact will it have on my grand plans?"

The Private Secretary spoke gravely: "Then what does My Lord suggest we do?"

Prince Qi gritted his teeth: "What else can we do? Send more men, send experts to Shangmu—kill Jiang Mingyu, once and for all."

Yet the Private Secretary refused in an unexpected way: "Jiang Mingyu has now taken root in Shangmu. If he dies outright, the Emperor will never let it rest—if he uncovers even a trace, it will be another major trouble."

He paused, then added: "And if it drags up past matters, it will be even worse."

One option failed, another failed too—Prince Qi shook his head impatiently: "Then what do you propose?"

The Private Secretary’s eyes darted, and he immediately found an idea: "Though we cannot kill Jiang Mingyu, we can make him walk to his own death."

"Precisely. Though he holds fifty thousand men, if handled right, they can become fifty thousand problems."

His expression turned grim as he continued: "My suggestion is this: send word to Tang Cheng—an order to disrupt Jiang Mingyu’s city defenses."

"Once those fifty thousand men descend into chaos, have Tang Cheng stoke the flames, fan the unrest—then Jiang Mingyu won’t be able to stay safe."

"As My Lord said, two benefits in one stroke—why not do it?"

Prince Qi pondered for a moment, then nodded: "Only this way. But not only that—we must keep firm control over Jiang Mingyu’s fifty thousand troops."

"Should circumstances shift, this army can become our bargaining chip."

A hint of conspiracy gleamed in his gaze—he was already weaving a new plot behind the scenes.

"Also, instruct Tang Cheng to act cleanly and neatly—leave no trace."

"We cannot give the dog emperor any chance to trace us."

The Private Secretary smiled and nodded: "My Lord, rest assured—I will arrange everything perfectly."

Meanwhile, far away in the Shangmu County Office, Zhang Jiani rushed in, her face flushed with panic as she stared at the official seated at his desk: "Corrupt official—something huge has happened!"