Even, even enough to...
"Plans must be made early."
At this mont, the thoughts of the court officials varied, yet they converged on the sa point.
Plans indeed needed to be made early, but what kind of plans depended on each individual. However, no matter how diverse, the general direction was the sa.
That is, to seize power.
In the face of real power, sches and status were utterly weak. Previously, not even the entire court of officials could stop the madman from riding his horse into Jinluan Hall—and after that, the madman was not punished. Instead, he was promoted to Grand Master, enjoying glory and honor.
Who dared to oppose? Who could oppose? What would happen even if they did? That madman didn’t even need troops; he could kill them all by himself.
This is true power, striking at the essence.
That is, the power over life and death.
"We must beco stronger..."
Each ti they thought of that day, the court officials felt deeply troubled.
The Grand Master was indeed uneducated, but these indulged officials did learn certain things.
"We must beco stronger..."
Watching the civil and military officials lower their heads to hide their eyes, the elderly eunuch standing beside the dragon throne was deeply worried.
"Your Majesty, you must beco stronger..."
Even for the sake of the Chen dynasty’s rivers and mountains, the Emperor must beco stronger at all costs.
"Beco...strong."
The young Emperor attempted to repeat the awkward words, though he still didn’t know what they truly ant.
...
...
...
Yizhou, the old barracks.
The blade slashed through the air repeatedly, producing a series of sharp whistles. Just listening to the chilling sound of the air being sliced, one could feel the sharpness and mastery of the swordsmanship—yet if one were to witness the sword-wielding scene firsthand, they would realize that this swordsmanship was far beyond what re words like ’mastery’ could describe.
Simply because the noise was created by nothing more than a broken sword.
A broken sword, yet it produced the sound of a full longsword slicing the air. To call it mastery is less accurate than calling it supernatural; who knows how this is accomplished, perhaps even the storytellers in the teahouses wouldn’t dare invent such tales.
But unfortunately, not everyone could appreciate the profoundness of this sword intent.
For example, the neighbor from Jibei who was just pushing open the window.
"Hey, Cui! Aren’t you done yet? You crow before the rooster every day. How’s anyone supposed to sleep?"
"I’m just trying to beco stronger."
While speaking, the swordsman nad Cui Yuan continued to precisely wield the broken sword in his hand.
"Two thousand more strikes to go, and today’s four thousand strikes will..."
"I don’t care if you beco a wall or a beam, but can you stop practicing under other people’s windows? Just because you don’t sleep doesn’t an no one else should. Practice in your own room, will you?"
"..."
Cui Yuan couldn’t find words for a long while and could only keep swinging his sword as he walked away.
Along the way, he drew a chorus of curses.
Nowadays, most people liked to keep a few chickens at ho; hens laid eggs, and roosters crowed to tell ti—yet the residents near the old barracks never needed to keep roosters because Cui Yuan always woke up earlier than the chickens.
"Young people practicing hard is a good thing."
Yang Xuan, the old man, was woken up too, but he didn’t mind this kind of thing—partly because the old man was aged and his legs were broken, he didn’t need to work for food and drink every day, and partly because he sincerely admired Cui Yuan’s self-discipline.
Indeed, one must beco strong; without it, there is no power.
Without strength, how could one join the dragon?
"Get up! Everyone, get up!"
After Cui Yuan had passed by swinging his sword, old Yang climbed into his wheelchair, rolled around, and called all of the Yang family descendants up to train their bodies.
This also made Cui Yuan nod repeatedly while practicing his sword.
True, the morning is the golden ti of the day for practice; practicing more is never wrong, and practice always leads to strength.
Just like him, he used to swing his sword three thousand tis a day, but now he has progressed to four thousand swings a day. This is the fruit of cultivation and the strength brought by more practice.
"Does more practice really bring strength?"
This ti, it was Jiang Wenyuan, the captain of the capturers who ca to find Cui Yuan. Of course, nowadays, this title might need a "forr" prefix because all of Yizhou was beyond the control of the Jiankang court, and thus the capturers trapped here naturally lost their organization.
But losing the organization does not an losing the frawork, nor does it an losing the responsibilities.
Even if the court’s orders could no longer reach Yizhou, soone still needed to maintain the city’s law and order. Besides, after Du Chengfeng took over Yizhou without much concern for matters, Jiang Wenyuan’s job scope hasn’t seen much change—if there’s any change, it’s that everyone’s salary got stuck for a while.
However, after Liu Bolun ca up with the idea to take over the forr military governor Qian Jin’s family fortune in Yizhou as funds, the capturers’ salaries increased notably.
It’s said that writing makes one poor and warfare makes one rich. Once they had money in hand, they prioritized improving their strength—the capturers always had to use various tools to catch those fierce bandits, but that was just a helpless asure. If they truly had the power to capture the bandits directly, who would still need tools?
Moreover, the bandits were becoming stronger every day.
Perhaps due to the worsening state of the world, those maniacs with evil qi grew more and more formidable. In the past, killings were rare, but now even those who’ve committed murder can battle capturers evenly—clearly, their power was accumulated through countless innocent lives, many of them innocent.
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