Upon noticing movement nearby, the soldiers turned to see a man squatting at the edge of the training ground.

Dressed in a modest green robe, he had a fox-like, mischievous glint in his eye despite his refined, scholarly appearance.

At first glance, he looked every bit the gentleman, but his demeanor was far from it.

He sat cross-legged, slurping on a bowl of steaming knife-cut noodles, all the while intently watching them.

These men were veterans of the Western Army camp, unfamiliar with this newcomer.

Yet his attire and presence reminded them of a figure from the rumors—the legendary strategist by the general’s side, known as “The Smiling Fox in Green Robes.”

A man who could charm you one moment and, without blinking, strike you down the next.

The soldiers, realizing who he might be, broke into a cold sweat, stammering, “M-Master Chi?”

The man raised an eyebrow, amused. “Oh? You recognize me?”

He took another long slurp, patting his face thoughtfully, wondering if it was his striking looks that gave him away.

The soldiers’ hearts raced.

The kitchen camp running a private stove was against military regulations.

While the former general had turned a blind eye, the new one, rumored to be a merciless figure, was known for strictly enforcing the rules.

Recently, he had cracked down on the camp’s entertainment division, marking the first of three rumored reforms.

The private stove might just be the second.

Chi Qing glanced around at the tall soldiers, all visibly terrified by his presence, and felt disappointed.

He muttered to himself, blaming General Feng’s fearsome reputation for making him, someone so “pleasant and friendly,” seemingly unpopular.

Standing up, Chi Qing brushed the dust from his robes.

He left them with a casual warning, “I’ll be stopping by the kitchen camp tonight to sample some of your cooking,” and strolled off toward the main tent where Feng Shuo was stationed.

Once Chi Qing left, the soldiers breathed a sigh of relief.

Chi Qing arrived at the tent just as Feng Shuo returned from the training ground.

For convenience, Feng Shuo wore light, reflective armor that day, his long hair pinned up with a jade hairpin.

The silver of his armor emphasized the intensity in his phoenix-shaped eyes, which had a slight upward tilt at the corners, making his gaze cold and piercing—intimidating to look at directly.

His face was almost unnaturally beautiful, a trait inherited from his mother, who had once been infamous in the court.

Even so, his strong brows added a certain majesty, balancing out the beauty with an air of nobility.

There was a rumor in the palace: when Feng Shuo was twelve, a prince from a neighboring kingdom, visiting the capital, mistook him for a princess and requested his hand in marriage.

This rumor, true or not, didn’t change the fact that Feng Shuo had, indeed, killed the visiting prince in a fit of rage.

His actions had provoked the emperor’s wrath, resulting in his banishment to the military for five years.

Feng Shuo despised any mention of his appearance.

Once, while the emperor was ill and the crown prince temporarily ruled, a high-ranking official had made a derogatory comment about Feng Shuo’s beauty on the court floor.

Feng Shuo had responded by drawing his sword and decapitating the man right there in the Golden Throne Hall, leaving the court in shock.

Knowing his general’s sensitivities, Chi Qing wisely avoided looking directly at his face.

Instead, he found a seat, placed his noodle bowl on his lap, and asked, “So, how was training with the five thousand elite troops today?”

On his way in, Chi Qing had seen soldiers returning from the training grounds, exhausted and barely able to stand, which gave him a pretty good idea of how ruthless Feng Shuo’s training regimen was.

Feng Shuo, recalling the pitiful state of the soldiers, grew even colder. “They’re nothing but useless fools. If the Northern tribes invade, they’ll be waiting to be slaughtered.”

Chi Qing, still busy with his noodles, replied between mouthfuls, “Isn’t that what you expected? General Fan Wei wouldn’t have left a proper army here for you.”

Feng Shuo’s eyes narrowed in distaste at Chi Qing’s eating habits.

For a strategist, Chi Qing had an unseemly way of devouring his food, as if he hadn’t eaten in days.

To an outsider, it might look like Feng Shuo wasn’t feeding his staff properly.

Out of a sense of decorum, Feng Shuo refrained from commenting on Chi Qing’s manners, but he did say, “Tomorrow, I’ll have the entire Western Army join the Liaonan troops in training.”

“Training the entire Western Army alongside your elite Liaonan soldiers? With how tough you are, you’ll either drive them all to the brink or scare them into fleeing,” Chi Qing said with a casual grin, slurping his noodles loudly—a sound that grated on Feng Shuo’s nerves.

Feng Shuo ignored the noise, fixing Chi Qing with a hard stare. “I don’t expect to keep them in such training long-term. But they need to understand the vast gap between themselves and the true soldiers of the Liaonan Army.”

He wasn’t about to let these ten thousand troops continue their worthless ways under his command.

“Wise as always, Your Grace,” Chi Qing agreed, nodding as he drained the bowl of its rich, savory broth.

The kitchen camp’s noodles today were excellent, with a thick, flavorful soup that truly hit the spot.

At his limit with Chi Qing’s slurping, Feng Shuo grabbed a book from the table and threw it at him. “If you’re going to lick the bowl, take it outside and do it in private.”

Chi Qing quickly and obediently put down the bowl, which he had already drunk most of, and mumbled quietly, “The soup is delicious, and there’s so much minced meat in it.”

Feng Shuo shot him a glance, and he immediately stopped grumbling, sitting straight to report seriously, “So far, we’ve identified five secret informants, and all have been dealt with. Scholar Lu knelt before the emperor to plead for his eldest son, angering His Majesty and being punished with house arrest. However, when you sent someone to offer goodwill, Scholar Lu didn’t even let them in, nor did he accept the gifts…”

At this point, he cautiously glanced at Feng Shuo.

But Feng Shuo remained calm, as if he had anticipated this outcome.

Tapping his fingers lightly on the table, he said unhurriedly, “The Lu family’s prosperity has always relied on their loyalty. Now that the young emperor has acted against the Lu family’s eldest son, it shows he’s beginning to suspect them. Perhaps, by exiling Lu’s son, the emperor is testing Scholar Lu’s loyalty. Otherwise, why send the son all the way to the remote Western Prefecture?”

With this hint from Feng Shuo, Chi Qing immediately grasped the key point.

The exile of the Lu family’s eldest son is a test.

If the Lu family remains loyal, after a few months of cold treatment, the emperor might be convinced of their faithfulness.

But if they send gifts, whether or not the Lu family accepts them, given the emperor’s suspicious nature, his doubts about the Lu family would only deepen.

If their people stop sending gifts one day, the emperor won’t think they gave up; he’ll assume the Lu family has been bought off.

Feng Shuo’s move was brilliant, essentially forcing the Lu family to align with them under the emperor’s own hand.

Even if Scholar Lu is foolishly loyal and refuses to cooperate, the emperor’s distrust will lead to a crackdown on the Lu family.

In the end, Feng Shuo and his allies wouldn’t need to lift a finger to see the emperor weaken himself.

Realizing all this, Chi Qing was truly impressed from the bottom of his heart. He sighed, “Your Highness, with your wisdom, there’s no need to keep strategists around.”

Feng Shuo cast him a cold glance. “Indeed, the stables are still short of a groom. You can go brush the horses from now on.”

Chi Qing: “…”

He had intended to flatter Feng Shuo, but somehow he ended up digging a hole for himself.

Chi Qing, now looking dejected, transformed into a sulking figure resigned to his fate.

After Feng Shuo dismissed him with a “You may leave,”

Chi Qing didn’t forget to pick up the bowl on the table and gulp down the remaining soup before leaving the military tent with the empty bowl.

Feng Shuo’s eyelid twitched at the sight.

When his personal guards brought out his breakfast from the food box, Feng Shuo noticed it was also a bowl of knife-shaved noodles.

Remembering Chi Qing’s messy eating earlier, he suddenly lost his appetite.

He ordered, “Take it away. I’m not hungry.”

This had happened before, so the guards didn’t think much of it.

But just as they packed up the food, Feng Shuo changed his mind. “Bring it back.”

Guard: “…”

Alright then, their lord was becoming unpredictable.

It wasn’t that Feng Shuo suddenly wanted to eat, but he recalled the doctor’s words from last night.

He wanted to test if it was the food from the camp’s cookhouse that had briefly restored his sense of taste.

When the noodles were brought back, he looked at the soft, white noodles soaked in red oil, topped with a layer of aromatic meat sauce and garnished with a few sprigs of cilantro.

The smell made his stomach stir with a bit of hunger.

Feng Shuo picked up a piece of noodle with his ebony and silver chopsticks and tasted it.

The spiciness hit first, and the knife-shaved noodles had a firmer texture than ordinary noodles, enhancing the wheat flavor.

With the rich broth coating the noodles, the taste could only be described as hearty.

The flavors were faint to Feng Shuo, but to someone who rarely sensed anything on his palate, they were enough to make an impact.

So the issue really lay with the fire Brigade’s food?

Feng Shuo’s grip on the chopsticks tightened slightly. “Who made today’s breakfast in the cookhouse?”

At the cookhouse…

After breakfast, everyone was busy preparing ingredients for lunch.

Chef Li had been sent to the military doctor and hadn’t returned.

According to the soldiers who carried him, Chef Li was still bedridden, unable to get up.

Jiang Yanyi was a bit worried.

Severe diarrhea can lead to dehydration, and at Chef Li’s age, his body might not withstand such strain.

The other cooks, who had worked with Chef Li for decades, were naturally concerned about his health as well.

But the most pressing issue was that Chef Li couldn’t handle the cooking, and no one else could make the braised lion’s head meatballs that had to be served at noon.

Head Zhao was so anxious he had broken out in blisters around his mouth.

He sent someone to find Liu Cheng, only to learn that Liu had taken the day off to go home.

It would take until the afternoon to fetch him from his house—far too late!

Some cooks suggested buying a lion’s head dish from a nearby inn, but without a horse, there wasn’t enough time to make the round trip.

And even if they did, the jostling on horseback would ruin the dish by the time it arrived. How could they serve that to the general?

Bringing in a chef from the inn to make it on-site wasn’t an option either.

This was a military camp, not a street performance troupe, and outsiders weren’t allowed in.

Jiang Yanyi, seeing Head Zhao and the other cooks in such a frenzy, asked, “Can’t you just make a different dish?”

Head Chef Zhao replied, “If we change the dish, the entire cookhouse staff will probably be replaced!”

Each day, the cookhouse prepared a list of dishes to be served to the generals, which was sent to their personal guards for approval.

The guards, knowing their generals’ preferences, would strike off anything they didn’t like and ask for a replacement.

If the dish sent up wasn’t the one on the approved list, no matter how valid the reason, it would be considered a mistake.

The chef responsible would be punished.

Especially since this dish was for the general himself.

They had only received rewards the night before, and now they were faced with such a huge mistake.

What could they possibly say?

Realizing the severity of the situation, Jiang Yanyi figured that Chef Li’s sudden illness had to have been deliberate.

Someone was clearly trying to bring him down.

Remembering Chef Li’s kindness to her, Jiang Yanyi bit her lip and said, “I might be able to make it.”

The moment she said this, all the cooks shook their heads dismissively.