“Order, order,” a tired old man mumbled as he smacked a hammer on the table four times. Feng Ming wasn’t sure what the symbolism was, but he figured it was something along the lines of “shut up or I’ll kill you.” The chair of the meeting adjusted his spectacles before continuing. “Now that we’ve completed our free discussion on the topic, I’d like to invite each representative to state their positions. Let’s start with True North Country, as they requested this meeting.”
A middle-aged woman with hair wound up in a tight bun stood up. She was one of the weaker cultivators in the room, as True North Country didn’t like mixing cultivation and politics. “Based on our intelligence, the fleet is heading north by looping around west. It’ll take them two months to arrive, given that they left one month ago. If we don’t respond appropriately, the Southern Alliance will set up a foothold on our Northern shores. It will be very difficult to chase them off if they do.”
“With all due respect, I think you’re overreacting,” a man said, standing up. He wore a silk tang-style suit as opposed to cultivation robes. The man came from the Xia Empire, which happened to be as far inland as possible. They were also a respectable distance away from the battlefields between the two warring factions. “It’s fair that you’re concerned. I would be too if I were you. There are six suitable harbors where they can mount an offensive, and yours is the closest. To land anywhere else, they’d need to travel many more months.
“Unfortunately, mobilizing troops is expensive. Would it not be best if we were absolutely certain before committing our forces? For all we know, it’s just a naval exercise. I, for one, do not wish to empty my country’s coffers over such a possibility, as unlikely as it is.”
“The possibility isn’t unlikely,” an older, bearded man said. “Our sources have uncovered plans that are years in the making. They’ll be attacking Beihai City, mark my words. Huoshan stands with True North.” His stance brought about a few claps. Far too few.
“But Beihai Port is only accessible via Haijing’s territorial waters,” another man said. He was short and balding. He was also an alchemist, the most prestigious occupation in the Evergreen Kingdom, which he represented. “It’s the only port in their waters, and they’ve enforced a strict demilitarization policy for these oceans for over ten thousand years. Even True North Country, who owns the port, is only allowed a few dozen warships in case of emergency. Do you really think they’ll let the South invade it? Meanwhile, we’re bleeding actual blood in the Evergreen Battlefield. We can’t afford to divert any experts on hearsay.”
“Anything is possible after a change of government,” a lady said. The tall lady wore a black qipao with golden cloud patterns. She was the representative of the Quicksilver Empire, the Song Kingdom’s strongest ally. “I think it’s worth taking this seriously. We should at least send an expeditionary force that can slow them down and buy us time to mobilize additional troops. We stand with True North.”
“We’re fighting on too many fronts,” a man with unkempt gray hair said. The man, who was from the Long Kingdom, shook his head. “We can’t do it. If we reinforce Beihai, our battlefield will fall.”
“Same here,” another voice said. Many others piped in. Meanwhile, many countries farther away from the Southern border kept silent as always. They didn’t know firsthand how steep a price their Southern neighbors paid to keep them safe. Sometimes, it seemed like they didn’t care. They were content to send a little money every now and then, and send bodies as well.
“The Song Kingdom will reinforce Beihai,” Feng Ming said, standing up.
The Quicksilver Empire’s representative, Li Fei, frowned. “You’re already fighting on the Southern Battlefield,” she said. “And even though five years have passed, the Song Kingdom still hasn’t recovered from its civil war. Let us do the fighting.”
“This time’s different,” Feng Ming said. “I feel it in my bones. We can’t spare much, but we need to send some help. I’ll personally set out in two months to join the battle.” He looked around the room at those who hadn’t yet spoken. “I’ve heard some good arguments from many other kingdoms. The Evergreen Kingdom, the Long Kingdom, and the Phoenix Cry Empire are all busy with their battlefields. The Quicksilver Empire has agreed to support the North’s defense despite having the Song Kingdom as a shield and buffer. But what about you?”
“What about us?” a tall man with blue cultivation robes and long black hair said. He carried a yellow fan and wore a golden sword at his waist. “We’re not blessed with the resources to aid. While you all enjoy a certain enmity against the South, we’re always in a constant state of upheaval. Shifting borders and rebellious vassal states are the norm. All to fight over scarce quarries, small spirit woods, and tiny bodies of water. We send you what resources we can every year.”
“We don’t need money; we need bodies,” Feng Ming said, staring him down. He placed his hands on the table, an aggressive gesture in such a setting. “Mark my words, they’ll attack Beihai City. We’ll bleed in this war.”
“Ha,” the man said. “You’re sending one man up, and you say you’re unsatisfied with our response?”
“I’m worth more than half your army,” Feng Ming said.
The room went quiet.
“You are just a single man from a backwater country,” the man spat back. “You might be a marshal, but we have twenty cultivators that are just as strong if not stronger than you.”
“I could take on half your army with my eyes closed and you know it,” Feng Ming said. “Now tell me, are you a man or are you a coward?”
The man turned red
