Chapter 56: I Must Climb Higher, Faster, and Grow Stronger… Part 2

The storyteller scrambled to pick up his gavel, wiping cold sweat from his forehead. “Back to the Master… we were at the point where Chancellor Gu was in the imperial court…”

“Yes, yes!”

Wei Qingya slapped his thigh, urging him on like a child obsessed with a play. “That part! Tell the part where the Chancellor made that dog Wu Wei kneel again!”

The storyteller resumed the tale of Chancellor Gu Outwits the Eastern Liao Envoys.

Pei Jingyi and Old Yan galloped away from the capital. The news of the Provincial Army’s mutiny in Ningzhou had not yet reached the city. Since it was a matter of grave importance, Pei Jingyi hadn’t spoken of it to Old Yan.

It wasn’t until the evening of the second day, when they stopped to rest at a post station, that they encountered a group of travel-worn couriers.

The stationmaster’s face was pale as he spoke in hushed tones with the messengers.

Old Yan caught the words “Ningzhou” and “mutiny.” The tea bowl in his hand fell onto the table with a clink.

His expression shifted drastically as he stood up abruptly. “Something happened in Ningzhou?”

Pei Jingyi’s gaze swept over the men. He grabbed Old Yan by the collar and dragged him to the deserted backyard of the post station.

Without a word, he pulled out the secret report Gu Huaiyu had given him and slapped it against Old Yan’s chest.

Old Yan’s face grew uglier with every word he read. By the end, his entire face was flushed red, and his teeth ground together with an audible creak. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me sooner?!”

Pei Jingyi calmly retrieved the report, reaching out to stroke the mane of the horse tied beneath the tree. “Tell you sooner? So you could spend the whole time in the capital jumping in anxiety?”

“I should have gone to the Chancellor’s Estate to beg for punishment!”

Old Yan threw a punch into the tree trunk, shaking down a shower of withered leaves. “The little brats I raised caused this kind of mess and added to the Chancellor’s burdens… I… I… how can I ever face him again?”

He was so distressed that his eyes grew red and his voice choked up.

Pei Jingyi pressed a hand onto his shoulder. “Heading to Ningzhou now is how you relieve his burdens.”

“Then why the hell are we resting!” Old Yan tore the reins loose and prepared to mount, but Pei Jingyi held him firmly in place.

Pei Jingyi was as steady as a mountain, his grip incredibly strong. “Don’t rush. Tell me about the Ningzhou Provincial Army. You spent over a decade with them. Why would they mutiny at a time like this?”

Old Yan took a deep breath, wiped his face, and forced himself to calm down. “I led them for more than ten years. They’re all kids who grew up in bitter water. They joined the army just to get a meal. Usually, they’re the most law-abiding lot. Now that Chancellor Gu has issued the Decree for Military Participation in Governance—giving soldiers and scholars the same pay—the good days have finally arrived—”

“Why would they mutiny now? Are they so full they’ve gone mad?”

That was exactly what Pei Jingyi was thinking.

Gu Huaiyu was the Lord Chancellor, sitting high in the halls of power; it was difficult for him to know the specific miseries of the low-level soldiers in the camps.

But Pei Jingyi knew perfectly well. The soldiers of Great Chen had endured for so many years; they were more patient than anyone.

For them to reach the point of mutiny and killing the Army Overseer meant they had been pushed to a dead end. There was no way left to live.

As Old Yan pondered the question, the more he felt something was wrong. He grabbed Pei Jingyi’s arm. “Those brats… they must have been cornered!”

His face suddenly went white.

No matter the reason, a military mutiny was the greatest taboo of any dynasty.

Especially in Great Chen, where they feared the military like a tiger.

Once labeled a “revolt,” the court would inevitably send troops to suppress it. To strike fear into the people, they might even execute the entire camp to the last man.

That wouldn’t just be the leaders dying; it would be a bloodbath for the entire Ningzhou Provincial Army. Tens of thousands of lives would be treated like grass.

Pei Jingyi saw through his thoughts and pried Old Yan’s fingers off his arm one by one. “If the Chancellor wanted a bloody suppression, why would he send us? Wouldn’t it be faster to just deploy the Imperial Guard?”

The moment Gu Huaiyu had given him that report, he understood the Chancellor’s intent.

He wanted to resolve this at the smallest possible cost, avoiding bloodshed if possible.

But Pei Jingyi was thinking even further ahead.

If this succeeded, it wouldn’t just be about quenching a mutiny. It would be about taking over an army that was truly willing to die for Gu Huaiyu—before the blood flowed and before the blades were drawn.