Capital Garrison.
The rumbling of carts, the whistling of horses, and the constant shouts of killing.
The central army tent.
Prince of Pingxi frowned deeply as he looked at the Daqing map on the table, marked with black and red.
The red represented generals and commanders with old ties to the Feng family and were less than thirty percent of the black markers, let alone the fact that old ties did not necessarily mean compliance with Prince of Pingxi's commands.
Daqing had seen two successive emperors expand its territory and destroy nations, flourishing national fortune and public support, with no one capable of replacing the Zhao family.
"We were too greedy for success back then!"
Prince of Pingxi shook his head helplessly, somewhat regretting that he had extinguished the Great Moon Nation too swiftly; he should have dragged it out for another three to five years.
