Feng Ming had never gotten along with Jiao Ming, likely because he could never accept sharing a given name with him. The man was cheap, petty, and vindictive. And prideful, of course. That was the man’s most useful trait, a trait he strived hard to manipulate.”
“You’re right,” Feng Ming said. “I forgot my place. I’m just from a small backwater kingdom with a shortage of cultivators and resources. One of me is all we can afford to send. I’m sure everyone else can afford to do more.”
Everyone around the table grumbled. To avoid losing face, all of them would have to send at least one peak-core-formation cultivator. Alternatively, they could send an assortment of core-formation cultivators and foundation-establishment experts that matched one in power. The price would be far from negligible.
“The Desert Wind Kingdom will send ten men, headed by my brother,” Jiao Ming said. “They might not be as strong individually, but as a team, they can more than take you on. In addition, we’ll send a brigade of one thousand foundation-establishment cultivators. Qi-condensation cultivators are too expensive to ship around.”
One by one, the others followed. The few dozen kingdoms quickly formed a patchwork army. Once the details had been settled, there was only one final matter: leadership. Feng Ming was selected unanimously.
The meeting was adjourned, and they all started chatting, laughing, and drinking. Feng Ming was willing to do many things, but pretending to socialize with these snakes was not one of them.
“You should really stop fighting with Jiao Ming,” Li Fei said. “He’s a strong fighter, and his kingdom is powerful. Think of what you could accomplish by working together.” She’d grabbed a glass of red wine in one hand and handed him a small cup of baiju with her other. He took it and shot the burning liquid down in a single gulp.
“Why should I work with him when I can accomplish more by fighting him?” Feng Ming asked. “Just insult his honor and bam—instant army.”
She rolled her eyes. “Now you’ll just have to explain yourself to Princess Guo. No doubt she’ll be wondering exactly what possessed her husband to volunteer for this expedition just after she gave birth to her third child.”
Feng Ming grinned. “I’m just the best damn marshal out there, and everyone knows it. Even Jiao Ming concedes to that, as much as we disagree on many things.”
“There’s that,” Li Fei said. “Now tell me, what does your gut tell you about this ‘naval exercise’?”
“Honestly?” Feng Ming said, raising his hands helplessly. “If I could get three times as many men to go up with me, I would.”
“That bad?” Li Fei asked.
“It’s not just a routine exercise, and definitely not a normal battle,” Feng Ming said. “They have something up their sleeves, I’m sure of it. But what can we do? We’re tapped out. The South’s been pressing us hard for the past few years, and many of us are at our breaking point. What I’m getting for this battle isn’t enough, but it’s all we can spare.”
“Then why go?” Li Fei said. “Why put your kingdom in jeopardy to fight for Beihai City?”
“Because I have to,” Feng Ming said. “If we lose Beihai, they won’t need to limit themselves to the battlefields—they’ll be able to send forces in from all their seafaring cities. Based on our most conservative estimates, their army is massive. At best, I’ll be able to buy us time.”
“I can respect that,” Li Fei said. She sighed. “I’ll be sure to press our emperor to send more reinforcements south while you’re gone.”
“Many thanks,” Feng Ming said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s high time I pick another fight with Jiao Ming.”
Li Fei raised an eyebrow.
“He owes me a few bottles of wine,” Feng Ming explained. “Battles and funding are good and all, but a man needs to pay off his gambling debts.”
“What gambling debts?” Li Fei asked.
“The one’s he’ll be owing me soon,” Feng Ming said. “Wish me luck.”
Chapter 29: Progress
The solitary clock ticked in Hong Xin’s office as she looked over paper after paper. She was exhausted, as were the other women in the room. Despite their fatigue, she, Bai Ling, and Ji Bingxue went over the documents together as they made sure they hadn’t missed anything.
Her office, though small, was comfortable and well-furnished. A solid wood desk, complete with runic engravings, sat in front of the window. A small cinnamon-wood fireplace crackled heartily in a corner. A tall grandfather clock ticked away every second, letting out a larger set of tolls every hour or so. She preferred the smaller room to the spacious audience hall, where everyone and their dog could hear you if you so much as sneezed. It was quiet and comfortable. Relaxing even.
Hours passed, and after an exhausting triple-check, they finally relaxed. The last of the small evidence trails had been erased, and they would no longer have to step on eggshells when speaking to the Church of Justice or government officials. The last of the investigations following their foiling of the Spirit Temple’s plans had finally died down. Now they only had to worry about assassins in the dark.
Most importantly, they’d finished preparing. The plan they’d worked on for the past few years was finally finished. The Spirit Temple would move soon, and they would strike hard and fast. Their survival depended on it.
A large map filled with annotations was sprawled over her desk. They’d worked over the plan again and again, running over the different contingencies in case of unforeseen events. Secret passageways most people didn’t know existed were shown as thin red lines on a floorplan of the Spirit Temple. Some of these paths had been discovered by questioning their recaptured sisters. Others were the result of a careful infiltration of
