Both brothers went outside the 2nd western palace, and each one went on his separate way, thinking of the new reality he must deal with. Feng went straight to his bed, ignoring the head servant of his residential palace, who wanted to talk to him about the arrangements for concubines. He just lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, questioning everything that happened since he became the emperor. A lone tear went down his eye "I was such an idiot. I didn't make a single decision myself. I just walked the line he drew for me."

  The silence of the bedchamber felt heavier than the Mianguan he had worn. Every victory he had celebrated now tasted bitter. The arrest of Sou Mo, Xian Shang's momentary defeat—it was all a play, and he was simply the lead actor following Jian’s script. Feng postponed everything and didn't leave his chambers for days. Throughout this time, Lei was the one who managed everything in his place. He went to Feng's chamber multiple times, who in turn refused to see anyone. Jian was getting ready to return to the scene, anticipating the upcoming crisis.

  Near the dawn of the 7th day, a soft knock at the door startled Feng from his sleep. It was the head servant again, her voice muffled by the heavy wooden door. "Your Majesty... a messenger from the Ministry of War has arrived. He says the matter is urgent. Something about the eastern border."

  ?Feng didn't move. He didn't want to be the emperor right now.

  ?"Tell him to wait," Feng commanded, his voice shaking. "No. Tell him to take the report to Steward Jian. Since he holds the brush, let him read the ink."

  He rolled onto his side, pulling the golden silks over his shoulder, his eyelid falling heavily. He was longing for the old days as the spoiled third prince, when he could run to his father or older brother for comfort. The messenger of the ministry ran to Jan's palace, where Jian's bandaged arm took the message and opened it, his smile widening as he finished it. The Wu tribes are attacking several patrol camps near them. He whispered, "All according to my plan. It is time for the dear grand marshal to leave."

  He held his fan with his healthy arm, his right leg thudding, his steps uncoordinated as he made his way to the throne room. The servants and officials were all in a state of panic, running in different directions. Xian Shang was there with Wen Zi Shan, thinking of why the Wu tribes decided to attack them out of nowhere. Jian's arrival shocked everyone present; his right arm was heavily bandaged, his right cheek held a scar, and his right leg was limping.

  Wen Zi Shan blocked his way. "Steward Jian?"

  Jian raised his head to him, his eyes shining with confidence. "Grand Marshal, the emperor has authorised me to take care of these matters in his place. Please step aside."

  Yang Lei was watching from the side, his face unreadable. Xian Shang continued, "We... We understand that you want to serve the empire, but you are in no condition to do this."

  Jian chuckled, "You may be right, Prime Minister, if I were going to join the front lines. But I will just give some strategic advice." He moved to Wen Zi Shang's side, patting his hard armoured arm. "Our Grand Marshal is a pillar of iron. I have every confidence he will sweep these barbarians back into the dust where they belong."

  Xian Shang looked at him with suspicious eyes. "Who said that the grand marshal will lead this? We were just discussing sending one of the marshals."

  Jian shook his head, his uneven steps continuing to the map hanging on the wall. "The Grand Marshal successfully captured a traitor in our own government. Won't this be the perfect morale boost for our troops? Having a grand marshal cleaning the government and defeating enemies... This is our perfect opportunity to restore the people's faith in our army. Isn't that right, Grand Marshal?"

  Wen Zi Shan himself was suspicious of Jian's temperament change. He harassed and embarrassed him time after time, and Jian is now praising him as a master of war.

  Yang Lei approached his brother," Steward Jian, Lijiang needs the grand marshal's presence right now.

  Jian covered his face with his fan, as he eyed his brother, thinking, "It is too late to stop me, second brother". His voice spoke up, "It is actually the opposite, Advisor Yang. Wars are times where people unite. We shouldn't delay this any further."

  Everyone in the room was suspicious of Jian, although his words made perfect sense. They were sure he had an ulterior motive, but his logic couldn't be refuted. A confident smile appeared on Jian's face, thinking to himself, "We just need a nudge in the right direction."

  Xian Shang sighed, his eyes never leaving Jian. “Okay then, Steward Jian. What do you propose?”

  Jian walked forward towards the map hanging on the wall, his voice calm and authoritative. “The Wu tribes are fierce fighters. Their leader, Wu Ji, is a powerhouse, and their cavalry is their strongest weapon. That's our best advantage.”

  Wen Zi Shan asked, "What do you mean by this?"

  Jian continued, "Grand Marshal, cavalry needs a large terrain to display its full power. So, how do we counter that?"

  Wen Zi Shan thought for a moment and then looked back at him. "We tried to fight in a narrow terrain, like a valley or a forest. These terrains greatly restrict their horses."

  Jian nodded slowly, pointing at a specific location on the map. "Exactly! And this here is the best place to fight them. The Great Wall Pass"

  Everyone looked at that specific location. The Great Wall was a narrow pathway between two mountains. People usually stay away from there, preferring to go around the mountains, because of the fear of bandits and the few escape options. Xian Shang approached Jian, his eyes narrow and suspicious. "What exactly are you thinking?"

  Jian explained confidently, “Rocky terrains like this hold the horses back, and we have the infantry advantage. By stalling the cavalry on both sides of the mountain, we can slow them greatly, and the Grand Marshal can use the pass to lead as a group of elites between the two mountains and appear right in front of their main camp. With the cavalry distracted and surrounded from one side by us and the other by the mountains, they won’t have the ability to retreat and save their leader. Wu Ji will be a sitting duck for the Grand Marshal. All we need then is for him to finish the mission fast and retreat to either side of the mountains. With victory over that side, the other side would either flee and could be chased, or surrender.”

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Xian Shang put his hand on Jian's shoulder, his grip firm. "What if Wu Ji wasn't there? What if they anticipated this? There is no escape route. If this plan went south, the grand marshal would be trapped."

  Jian looked at Xian Shang's hand, then at him. "There is a risk, but so is in every war. And this is the best opportunity to achieve a swift victory over these tribes. We don't want this war to last. This is my plan, and you are free to approve or disapprove it, but its execution requires great courage."

  ?The air in the throne room grew thin. Xian Shang’s grip tightened, his fingers digging into the fabric of Jian’s robe, testing the man beneath the bandages. For a moment, the Prime Minister wasn't looking at a steward; he was looking at a predator.

  ?"Courage," Xian Shang repeated, the word tasting bitter in his mouth. "You speak of courage while you stand behind these walls, Steward Jian."

  ?Jian didn't flinch. "I speak of the courage to end a war before it consumes our treasury and our people. A swift strike to the heart is always more merciful than a thousand cuts on the limbs." He looked past Xian Shang, his gaze locking onto Wen Zi Shan. "The Grand Marshal knows this. A soldier lives for the moment where one blow decides the fate of an empire."

  ?Wen Zi Shan’s chest expanded. A confident smile was drawn on his lips. He stepped forward, brushing Xian Shang’s hand off Jian’s shoulder.

  ?"The Steward is right," Wen Zi Shan declared, his voice echoing off the high ceilings. "Victory is never found in the escape route. It is found in the advance. If Wu Ji is in that camp, I will bring you his head. If he is not, I will burn his banners and wait for him to crawl back."

  ?He turned to the other generals; his face flushed with the prospect of becoming a legend. "Get ready. We do not wait for the Wu to come to us. We will meet them at the Pass."

  The military cheers echoed through the room, leaving no room for objections. Yang Lei remained frozen. He watched as Jian slowly tucked his fan back into his sleeve. The "Master" didn't look triumphant; he looked bored, as if he were simply watching a clock strike the hour.

  The room emptied soon, but Lei followed his brother outside, his voice low and dangerous, "Eldest Brother, what are you planning this time?"

  Jian turned around. "Second brother, you have so little faith in me. There is no way I would try anything with enemies on our doors. We would have to postpone everything."

  "These are all lies," Lei kicked the floor, his face red with frustration. "You must have anticipated this somehow and prepared for it."

  "I am not a fortune teller, second brother,” Jian replied, "No one could foresee this."

  Lei approached while whispering, "So what is the flaw in your plan? There is no way you gave Wen Zi Shan a foolproof plan."

  Jian's face dropped. "Why are you like this, second brother? You think I would sabotage a war plan where there are soldiers' lives on the line? Am I that immoral?"

  Lei sighed, his anger palpable. "I don't know what to think of you anymore."

  He then walked past Jian, leaving him behind. Jian thought to himself, "The elite vanguard is gonna be around 300 soldiers. He won't be able to bring more than this. 300 lives for the future stability of the empire? Sounds good to me."

  Xian Shang was observing this from afar. He deduced that something was wrong. He straightened his beard, muttering, "Looks like the brothers had a disagreement."

  Later, he was meeting with his subordinates, who were discussing Jian's plan. He was listening to them with a sip of tea until he heard one of them say, "That is a good plan. Looks like the steward decided to postpone everything until after the invasion. He threw the cup on the floor. It shattered, producing a loud voice that startled all of them. His cold, venomous voice came out, “Didn’t you idiots learn anything from what happened these past weeks? Yang Jian never gives good advice. His plan must have a flaw somehow."

  One of them asked, his head tilting slightly, "I don't seem to find anything wrong with it, Prime Minister. And the grand marshal will be leading a team of the elite vanguard. They will be safe."

  Xian Shang looked out the window. "No. I am not convinced by this. Send a few men on full speed to that pass. Yang Jian must have prepared something. If they find anything, they must meet the grand marshal on his way there and warn him. And they will find something. I am sure of it."

  Jian made it back to his palace to find a servant waiting for him at the door." Steward Jian, you were summoned by the emperor. You are to report to his majesty's chamber immediately."

  Jian slightly bowed his head, his voice cold, "I sure would like to meet his majesty, but I am in no condition for this right now. I left my bed against my doctor's advice. Please excuse me."

  He walked beside him, entering his palace as usual. The doors closed behind him with a hard click, leaving the servant outside frozen. He had been a servant in this palace for years. Who talked to him right now wasn't the humble steward. He was the cold, fearsome crown prince who was destined for greatness. His feet moved slowly back to report to Feng.

  Inside, Jian passed by a mirror in the hallway. He looked at himself in the mirror and in the humble servant clothes he was wearing. He smiled and picked up a vase. "You did your duty, Steward Jian. You aren't needed anymore. Rest in peace."

  He smashed the mirror with the vase and continued walking casually, while continuing, "From now on, I, the ghost of Lijiang, will take over."

  The silence in the emperor’s bedchamber wasn't peaceful; it was heavy, like the air before a lightning strike. Feng sat on the edge of his bed, waiting for a knock, for a familiar limp, for the sound of a fan unfurling—a sign that the brother who had "died" in his arms was still, somehow, his brother.

  ?Then, the knock came. But the footsteps outside were hurried and light. The servant entered, his face white. He didn't just bow; he practically collapsed on the floor, whispering, ?"Your Majesty,"

  ?Feng didn't look up. "Where is he? Why is the Steward not with you?"

  The servant swallowed hard, the sound audible in the quiet room. ?"I... I went to the second western palace, Your Majesty. I delivered your summons exactly as instructed. The Steward... he did not come. He said he was in no condition. He told me to excuse him."

  ?Feng’s grip on his silky robe tightened until his knuckles went white. "He refused? On what grounds? He was standing in the throne room an hour ago, commanding my generals!"

  ?"It wasn't just the refusal, Your Majesty," the servant said, his voice dropping to a terrified whimper. "It was... his eyes. He didn't look like a man who was ill. He didn't speak like a servant. He spoke like... like the late Crown Prince. Cold. Absolute. He looked through me as if I were already a dead man."

  ?Feng finally looked up, and for the first time, the "idiot" he had called himself felt like a permanent title. The hope he had been nursing—that Jian was doing all of this out of a twisted sense of protection—withered.

  Feng asked, more to himself than the servant. ?"He isn't coming, is he?"

  ?"Shortly after I left, Your Majesty... I heard breaking glass from within his chambers. Something heavy. A mirror, perhaps."

  ?Feng stood up slowly. The realization hit him like a physical blow to the chest. Jian hadn't just recovered; he had transformed. The "Steward" was a costume that had been discarded, thrown away the moment it became inconvenient.

  ?"He smashed the mirror," Feng whispered, a hollow laugh escaping his lips. "Of course he did. He doesn't want to see the man he was pretending to be anymore. He doesn't need to. "

  ?He walked to the window, looking out toward the western palace. For weeks, he had feared the "Ghost of Lijiang" that was haunting his city. Now, he realized the Ghost was currently living under his own roof, and he had been the one to give it the keys to the kingdom.

  ?Feng turned to the servant, his eyes no longer wet with tears, but hardened by a new, freezing clarity. "Go to the Ministry of Records. Fetch me everything we have on the Great Wall Pass. Every map, every legend, every report from the last fifty years."

  ?"Your Majesty? At this hour?"

  Feng barked, the authority of his bloodline finally sparking to life. ?"Now. If my brother has killed the Steward, then I must stop being the 'Third Prince.' If he is playing the Ghost... then I will start being the emperor."