The silence in the throne hall of Guangling weighed heavier than any roar of battle. Luo Wen, seated upon the blackened chair he had turned into the emblem of his power, stared at the map spread wide before him. Along the edges of the parchment, lines of ink told two stories: on one side, victories won, armies annihilated, cities plundered; on the other, columns of taxes, tallies of ruined harvests, villages left empty.
The Invincible Chancellor, now Emperor, grasped the full measure of the truth: he had triumphed in every war he had undertaken, yet he was slowly bleeding away the very foundation of his Empire.
Han Qiu broke the silence with his gravelled voice:—"Your Majesty, Xu Ping has proven that sending one hundred thousand men is not enough. At Anyi he shattered our column, and now he marches like a warlord with sixty thousand veterans. If we mobilize again, if we demand yet another sacrifice from the peasants, we will not only be fighting him—we will be fighting the people themselves."
Gao Ren, his tone bitter, gave a slow nod.—"The peasant state will not vanish with a single stroke of the sword. And the realm of Wei Lian, as long as she commands the sea, will keep gnawing at our coasts."
Luo Wen rose sharply to his feet, his robe sweeping like a banner.—"I know. I know they are both threats. I know that if I let them grow, one day they will return against me with greater strength. But I also know this: if I launch another massive campaign, the Empire will collapse from within. The peasantry cannot endure more. Every levy is a riot, every tax a spark. Another army would not destroy Xu Ping—it would destroy Luo Wen."
The words rang out like a bitter confession.
—"Then we will wait."
The generals looked at him in disbelief. Luo Wen pressed on, his voice as firm as steel:
—"Today, I cannot destroy Xu Ping nor Wei Lian. But the Empire is vast. Guangling will be our heart, and for the next twenty or thirty years, our iron shall be reconstruction. We will repopulate the villages, make the fields bloom again, replenish the treasury. Let the peasant state and the island kingdom build their defenses—it matters not. We will grow in silence. And when the time is ripe, when our armies are once again as mighty as in the golden days, we shall fall upon them like a storm, and the Empire will be one again."
Han Qiu bowed his head slowly.—"Majesty… such a strategy demands patience."
—"Not patience," Luo Wen corrected coldly, "vision. The Empire will not perish for failing to conquer today. It will perish if we keep draining the people until nothing remains. If we wish to rule tomorrow, we must survive the present."
The command was dispatched to every corner of the realm: an end to grand campaigns, consolidation of defenses, restoration of the economy. The hammer of war was set aside for the plow. Instead of levying soldiers, the provinces were ordered to rebuild canals, repair harvests, and raise villages from their ashes.
The imperial scribes recorded a new motto, spread across Guangling on banners and proclamations:—"A people that lives, an Empire that grows."
War did not vanish altogether—garrisons still guarded the borders and patrols kept the roads safe—but the machinery of the Empire now turned toward stability.
In the solitude of his chamber, Luo Wen gazed at the horizon from the window of the newly rebuilt palace.
He knew Xu Ping would not stop. He knew Wei Lian would not relent. Both were living embers, bound to keep harassing the frontiers. But Luo Wen placed his faith in the strength of time itself. In twenty or thirty years, he would mobilize the full weight of the Empire and end, once and for all, this era of chaos.
—"Let them enjoy their moment," he murmured softly, as if speaking to fate itself. "The peasant and the noble usurper believe they have birthed new states. But theirs are small fires. Mine is a dormant volcano. Twenty, thirty years… and when it erupts, none of them will remain."
Thus was the decision sealed: the Empire would withdraw, not out of weakness, but out of calculation. The Invincible Chancellor wagered on time as his greatest ally.
War would rest for now, but Luo Wen's ambition would never die.