Du Ke suddenly recalled why that scene felt so familiar—it had actually happened a bit over two months ago.

Staring at the guard in front of him now, Du Ke couldn’t help but wonder, could Qin Fang have sent someone again?

But no, he thought, that would be unlikely.

“What brings you here to see me?” Du Ke asked.

The guard replied respectfully, “General Qin from Yunxiang County has sent someone to request your presence, my lord, saying it’s urgent.”

Du Ke felt as if his rational mind had snapped, or perhaps he was hearing things.

Why did this have to involve Qin Fang again?

He had a feeling that any association with Qin Fang would only lead to trouble.

The first time he got involved with Qin Fang, it was because some barbarians had defected at the Yongzhou military camp, and he was sent there—a long, exhausting journey.

The second time, it was the business in Huan County, and again, he was sent there.

Though the journey wasn’t as long, he was still worn out.

The Yongzhou trip was tiresome because of the distance, though he had little to do once he arrived.

But Huan County was nearby, yet still exhausting because of the workload.

And now, what would it be this time?

Du Ke felt an urge to curse.

However, each time he’d gotten involved with Qin Fang, it turned out to be a good thing.

First, it was the barbarians’ defection; then it was dealing with bandits.

So what was it this time?

Though he loathed the prospect, he couldn’t deny feeling a bit of excitement and curiosity.

Since the matter was urgent, Du Ke left work early.

Upon arriving at his residence, he met Tao Shan, who respectfully pulled out a letter and a memorial to the throne.

Seeing this, Du Ke raised an eyebrow, already understanding Qin Fang’s intentions.

Qin Fang, a general, knew that when dealing with local matters in Qi Kingdom, it was customary to submit official reports to the Ministry of War first.

Sending the memorial directly to Du Ke, however, implied he wanted Du Ke’s opinion, subtly binding him to the issue.

Shameless, he thought.

Yet, despite Qin Fang’s shamelessness, Du Ke found himself in a good mood.

That mood, however, quickly faded when he saw the letter.

Who writes so much in a letter?

Qin Fang’s letter stretched over ten pages.

If he were a calligraphy master, Du Ke could appreciate the artistry.

But Qin Fang wasn’t one, and though his handwriting was decent, it looked juvenile to Du Ke, nearly intolerable.

“Has your general been especially idle recently? Is Yunxiang County teeming with trivial matters?” Du Ke asked.

Tao Shan, unsure why Lord Du would ask that, answered honestly, “Since arriving in Yunxiang County, the general hasn’t had a moment’s rest. First, he resettled the barb—uh, I mean, the general said they are now citizens of Qi Kingdom, so they shouldn’t be called barbarians. They are to be called the New Citizens of Qi Kingdom.

After settling the New Citizens of Qi Kingdom, the general worked on repairing the city walls and setting up a military camp.

He even inspected Beast Mountain, and there’s been no shortage of work.When I left, he was still busy, working through the night without sleep.”

Du Ke nodded with satisfaction. “He certainly has a sense of duty.”

He liked the term “New Citizens of Qi Kingdom.”

Still, while wall repairs and setting up camps were good, they weren’t urgent matters in his eyes.

Without saying much more, he began reading Qin Fang’s letter.

Qin Fang first described the resettlement of the New Citizens of Qi Kingdom and mentioned recruiting three hundred of them as soldiers to defend Yunxiang County.

Although this approach was bold and went against the usual practice of dividing soldiers, the soldiers had families in nearby villages.

For their families’ safety, they would remain loyal, which made it acceptable.

The second matter was about purchasing land with military funds to grow crops that would sustain the soldiers.

Du Ke was astonished upon reading this—it was truly an excellent idea.

Who would have thought soldiers could be supported this way?

The imperial court had always been harsh towards military generals.

The funds allocated to the army were always minimal.

The court was constantly worried that the money might be embezzled by the generals or used for other purposes.

Furthermore, the money and grain provided by the court came from taxes.

If the taxes couldn’t be collected, the court would run out of resources, becoming poor with no money or grain.

However, the court never considered farming or raising an army on its own.

When Du Ke read in Qin Fang’s letter about using military pay to buy land and using the income from that land to support soldiers, which was suggested by Qin Fang’s wife, he found it reasonable.

Only a woman managing the household affairs would come up with such an idea.

Du Ke continued reading.

When he reached the part about the Changshou Taoist Temple on Shoushan Mountain, the iron-chained man, and Qin Fang’s suspicion that it was related to Prince Liang, his expression became serious.

Du Ke didn’t have a deep impression of Prince Liang this year, but he did have some recollection.

He was 38 this year, and twenty years ago, when he was 18, Prince Liang had already left for his fiefdom.

Back then, Prince Liang was powerless and insignificant, so Du Ke didn’t pay much attention to him.

If he wanted to know more about Prince Liang, he might have to ask his father.

Du Ke continued reading and soon came across information about the sulfur and saltpeter mines.

Regarding these mines, Qin Fang wrote: “According to my understanding, sulfur and saltpeter are the main ingredients for making firecrackers. If the court could use them to make large firecrackers and deploy them in warfare, wouldn’t we have a significant advantage in battle?”

Qin Fang didn’t mention Yang Haiyan, although he wasn’t biased against women or looked down on his wife.

He knew that matters of the state, if involving women, would attract criticism.

So, he didn’t bring up Yang Haiyan.

However, since the matter of military land was related to household affairs, Qin Fang truthfully reported it.

As for the sulfur and saltpeter mines, Du Ke was well aware of them.

The court had previously considered using them to make large firecrackers, but due to insufficient resources, the idea had been shelved.

What he hadn’t expected was that Qin Fang had discovered both sulfur and saltpeter mines.

According to Qin Fang’s letter, Prince Liang had found the sulfur and saltpeter mines twenty years ago, but because he wanted to use them to make elixirs, he didn’t inform the court, and eventually died from illness.

If, twenty years ago, Prince Liang hadn’t been so selfish, perhaps the Qi Kingdom would have already unified the realm by now.

But then again, would Prince Liang really have concealed such large sulfur and saltpeter mines just to make elixirs?

That’s hard to believe.

Was King Liang out of his mind? How much sulfur and saltpeter would it take to make elixirs?

According to Qin Fang’s description, the mines were so large that they could sustain King Liang for a lifetime, even if he used them as food.

Du Ke had a conspiracy theory: What if Prince Liang hadn’t really died?

With this thought, Du Ke got up to consult his father.

Although Elder Du hadn’t officially retired yet, he was in a semi-retired state.

He was just holding the title, waiting for the right age to retire.

This arrangement was common in prominent families, where the father would step aside for the son to take charge when the father grew old.

Du Ke handed Qin Fang’s letter to Elder Du and asked, “Father, what do you think about this matter? The sulfur and saltpeter mines must be real. Qin Fang said that based on the ramblings of the iron-chained man, he could infer that this man might have been the Taoist captured by Prince Liang twenty years ago to make elixirs. But I feel like things aren’t that simple. Would Prince Liang really conceal such large mines just for some unknown elixir? Could it be that…”

Elder Du shook his head after reading the letter and returned it to Du Ke. “Prince Liang is definitely dead. He was not favored by his father, the emperor. His mother was just a powerless maid who became Prince Liang’s mother due to the emperor’s favor at that time.

The reason he was given the title of Prince Liang was that his mother’s surname was Liang, showing that the emperor had no real expectations for him.

“Ren Prefecture was given to him as a fiefdom because it was his mother’s homeland. When he turned fifteen, past the age of adolescence, the emperor sent him to his fief.

After the emperor passed away and the previous emperor ascended the throne, Princr Liang returned once, but never again after that.

The next time we heard about him was when he died of illness. If Prince Liang faked his death, what would be the point?

Why hide such large sulfur and saltpeter mines for twenty years? If Prince Liang had faked his death, he would have staged a rebellion by now.”

Du Ke said, “I also find it unlikely that Prince Liang faked his death. But if he truly died, wouldn’t he have reported the mines to the court before his death? After all, it’s their family’s empire.”

Elder Du didn’t seem concerned. “Not everyone feels responsible for matters that aren’t their own. People’s sense of duty varies. However, I do think General Qin is a good man.”

Du Ke said, “He’s clever, though straightforward.”

Elder Du smiled, “What I meant by ‘good’ is that he’s lucky.”

Du Ke was taken aback and thought carefully.

It was true.

From a thousand-man commander to a General of Martial Virtue in just a year and a half, he had jumped four ranks.

As soon as he took office, he had eradicated bandits, caught corrupt officials, and discovered sulfur and saltpeter mines.

His luck was beyond just good.

Elder Du continued, “Sometimes, you just have to believe in fate and luck.”

Du Ke replied, “Father, you make a good point.”

Elder Du waved his hand dismissively.

Du Ke stood up. “I will go to the palace to see the emperor.”

The Imperial Palace

When Du Ke arrived at the palace, the emperor was testing a few of his sons.

The emperor was 27 years old this year and had three sons.

The eldest was seven years old, while the other two were five.

The eldest son was born to the Imperial Noble Consort, who was once the concubine of Prince Yuan.

After the emperor won the struggle for the throne, the concubine should have been made the empress, but the emperor instead posthumously honored Prince Yuan’s original wife as empress and gave the concubine the title of Imperial Noble Consort.

As a result, the legitimate eldest son became a secondary son.

Unless the Imperial Noble Consort was promoted, he would remain a secondary son for the rest of his life.