Petition for Battle and Double-Edged Strategy to Defeat Crown Prince Terrence

Schemes, whether overt or covert, always have loopholes for others to exploit. This time, Ninth Royal Uncle uses neither—he simply calculates the human heart.

Ninth Royal Uncle read Prince Jason and Lord Harold Chu perfectly; the two settled everything that very day.

Prince Jason asked Lord Harold Chu to support his bid for the throne, promising Charlotte Chu the title of Empress and agreeing that only her sons would be eligible to inherit.

Of course, all of Prince Jason’s promises hinge on his ascent to the throne, but that’s exactly what Lord Harold Chu and Charlotte Chu want. Charlotte is already destined to be Jason’s consort; the only way up is the Empress’s seat.

With the alliance between Prince Jason and Chu City settled, this victory would undoubtedly be his.

Last night, all the factions argued and bargained for credit, but after Prince Jason petitioned for command, every previous arrangement became worthless.

Prince Jason volunteered to lead the campaign, explicitly stating that Chu City could front the grain, and Eastlyn only needed to send troops.

No need to worry about supplies—the soldiers only have to carry their own rations for the march. That saves the whole process of preparing and escorting grain convoys, drastically reducing deployment time and giving them the edge in battle.

Moreover, Chu City pledged that as long as Prince Jason commands, they’ll even lend troops to Eastlyn whenever needed.

The moment these words left his mouth, the entire hall fell silent. Not a single minister dared speak, nor did anyone dare compete with Prince Jason. He would be commander—and Lyndaria was doomed to defeat.

Prince Jason volunteered for command, with Chu City offering active support. The Emperor, delighted, immediately decreed that Prince Jason would be commander, leading one hundred thousand troops to Liancastle to help defend it against Lyndaria.

All the ministers were crestfallen, bitter that their chance for glory was gone. None more so than Prince Rowan, who forced out a twisted, feral smile and gritted his teeth as he said to Jason, "Congratulations, Fifth Brother—may your banners fly high."

Having lost their chance at the throne, the Second and Third Princes put on ingratiating smiles and tried to cozy up to Prince Jason, clearly planning to join his camp.

Ninth Royal Uncle remained expressionless throughout, as if none of it concerned him. No matter how the court argued or how insincerely they congratulated Jason, Ninth Royal Uncle ignored it all and simply walked out of the noisy hall.

He left the palace, looked up at the blue sky, and allowed himself a faint, almost imperceptible smile.

Everything in Eastlyn had unfolded according to his plan. Only Lyndaria remained—he wondered how Master Ian Reed and Prince Titus Valen were faring.

He glanced in the direction of Lyndaria, then, before anyone could notice, withdrew his gaze and walked toward his carriage.

Things in Lyndaria weren’t as smooth as in Eastlyn, but they weren’t too bad either.

Prince Titus Valen was still struggling to win over the border troops, who rejected him at every turn.

His leg injury meant he could never earn the soldiers’ respect through force. If Titus wanted their respect, he’d have to rely on his mind—but with no war to fight, even a born strategist had no stage to prove himself.

Meanwhile, Master Ian Reed had skillfully sown doubts about Crown Prince Terrence, making the Emperor of Lyndaria waver in his trust yet again.

Emperors have always been suspicious, and Terrence already had a record. Hearing Master Ian Reed’s vague hints, the Emperor couldn’t help but recall Terrence’s actions when he was gravely ill and near death.

Every emperor hopes for a clever, capable heir, but when that heir threatens his own power and rule, he can never truly feel at ease.

Thanks to Master Ian Reed’s subtle suggestions, the Emperor of Lyndaria became increasingly convinced that Terrence was ambitious—already scrambling for military power and ministerial support before the throne was even vacant. Was he trying to sideline the Emperor?

The more suspicious the Emperor became of Crown Prince Terrence, the more he guarded against him winning over the army. To prevent the prince from seizing military command, the Emperor assigned a trusted general to Liancastle as Terrence’s deputy—ostensibly to help, but in truth to keep him under watch.

With this minder in place, Terrence’s campaign would be fraught with difficulty and problems—exactly what Ninth Royal Uncle wanted.

If anything happened at court to anger the Emperor, it would be all the easier to drag Terrence back to Lyndaria.

"Lyndaria has no chance of winning this war." Ninth Royal Uncle burned Master Ian Reed’s message, then opened the one from Southlyn. Reading the contents, he smiled and shook his head.

Since Prince Nathan of Southlyn wanted to play, Ninth Royal Uncle would play along. After all, it wasn’t his loss to bear, and the outcome was none of his concern.

He burned the Southlyn letter as well, then picked up his brush to reply to Prince Nathan.

Inside the secret chamber at Sutton Manor, Vincent Su hurried in at Lance Quinn’s summons, panting, "Lance, what’s so urgent?"

Serena was right—Vincent’s health really was poor. After just a short run, he was already out of breath.

Lance Quinn shook his head but didn’t mention Vincent’s kidney troubles. He got straight to the point: "Prince Nathan of Southlyn wrote to ask if I could help him stir up Eastlyn and Northlyn, so that three kingdoms would send troops against Lyndaria and punish its unprovoked attack on Liancastle."

To wage war without a just cause leaves troops demoralized and gives other nations an excuse to attack you.

Lyndaria had a reason to attack Liancastle, but it was a flimsy one.

"Attack Lyndaria? Excellent!" Vincent was so excited he sprayed tea everywhere. Luckily Lance dodged in time.

Even so, Lance still wrinkled his nose in distaste—though, hidden behind his mask, Vincent didn’t notice. He was far too caught up in his excitement.

"Attack Lyndaria? That’s brilliant! I love it. Ha! Terrence, you bastard, how dare you strike at Liancastle. Now you’ll pay!" Vincent imagined Terrence’s misfortune, hands on his hips, laughing gleefully—his usual refined image gone, replaced by a petty villain’s gloating.

Once his excitement faded, Vincent grumbled to Lance, "Lance, why didn’t you think of this before? It’s just ‘rescue Zhao by besieging Wei.’"

Lance shot Vincent a look. "It’s a good plan, but unless Liancastle escapes its crisis, we can’t use it at all."

"Why can’t we use it? As long as there’s enough benefit, stirring up Northlyn to send troops isn’t hard at all." Vincent was baffled—the plan seemed perfect to him, better than anything else.

"Inciting Northlyn isn’t hard, but what about Eastlyn and Southlyn? Vincent, for us, saving Liancastle is more important than besieging Lyndaria. This was Prince Nathan’s idea—if he wasn’t leading, do you know how long it would take us to persuade three kingdoms to send troops? And how much longer could Liancastle hold out against Lyndaria’s assault?" Lance replied coldly.

Vincent broke out in a cold sweat at Lance’s questions, but Lance pressed on: "‘Rescue Zhao by besieging Wei’? Easy to say, but not so easy to do. Prince Nathan only suggested it because he doesn’t care if Liancastle survives or not."

And most importantly...