It must be said there were plenty of clever people—just a few scattered clues had already allowed them to piece together part of the truth.

The thought of marriage alliances crossed their minds, and the shrewd ones immediately began reviewing their own descendants, wondering if they could secure a match with the Yu Family before their rise truly took hold.

Meanwhile, the father and sons of the Yu Family, standing among their colleagues, listened to the new details Minister Wei had relayed from delivering the imperial edict at the residence. Their hearts were heavy with bitterness.

They had once believed that even if the Great Yan Dynasty fell, Yue Fuguang’s presence would ensure their survival in the new regime—at the very least, they wouldn’t starve or go cold.

But who could have imagined that after the fall of Great Yan, three centuries of war and chaos awaited them?

That child could protect them for a few decades at most—but what of the remaining two hundred years?

The other officials also fixated on another grim detail: in times of war, it wasn’t just the poor and common folk who perished. High-ranking officials and wealthy clans would meet the same fate—no one would be spared.

If they couldn’t ensure Great Yan’s survival, their descendants would face three hundred years of turmoil. Some of those seated here today might even see their bloodlines extinguished.

The ancients held a deep superstition about the continuation of their lineage. They could accept their own deaths with composure, even with a martyr’s resolve.

But they could not bear the thought of their descendants suffering, nor the horror of their bloodline vanishing without heirs.

Exchanging glances—especially those who had once been at odds—they didn’t exactly bury the hatchet. Such grudges couldn’t be overturned overnight.

But at the very least, they could refrain from deliberately undermining one another, from mindlessly opposing every idea the other supported.

The Minister of Hongnong Temple, Elder Wang, stepped forward and revisited an old proposal: "Your Majesty, we must still find a way to extract the secrets of the high-yield crops—and more details about our dynasty’s downfall."

And then there was the unspoken question—what exactly happened between His Majesty and the Crown Prince in the end? Even the land policies no one dared mention...

Wei Ping immediately added, "Your Majesty, purging corruption from the court and restoring clarity to Great Yan is also of utmost importance. Only then might we move her to assist us."

"Indeed, Your Majesty," another official chimed in. "Minister Wei speaks wisely. Corrupt officials must be thoroughly investigated, and those who idle in their posts must be removed."

The others nearly groaned. Censor Zhu’s tactless words had just offended everyone in the room except himself.

Emperor Mingxi wasn’t pleased either, but this wasn’t the first time the blunt censor had spoken without filter. At the very least, his loyalty to Great Yan was unquestionable.

So the emperor ignored Censor Zhu’s divisive remarks and focused on Wei Ping’s suggestion.

"Minister Wei makes a valid point. We must first find a way to appeal to her. If she is willing to lend her aid, Elder Wang’s requests—the crops, the future—she might reveal them to us as well."

His gaze then settled on the three men of the Yu Family. "Especially you three. The Grand Tutor is under your roof. Take great care in attending to her."

"Yes," the father and sons replied respectfully.

"But Your Majesty, how exactly should we appeal to her?" Moving an immortal was no simple task.

Even if this immortal was currently in a "reduced" state, her pride remained intact—mortals were still ants in her eyes.

And she had already made it clear she had no intention of intervening in Great Yan’s impending collapse.

"Tomorrow, the Grand Tutor will attend the grand court assembly. We must learn more from her before deciding our next steps. For now, let us begin with Zhou Fushan."

Emperor Mingxi knew where Great Yan’s problems lay—so did his ministers. But none would openly point them out.

They were, after all, a collective bound by shared interests. No one wanted to betray their own class.

So their best course was to follow Yue Fuguang’s lead. She would point out a problem, and they would eliminate it.

Who would dare defy an immortal’s words? Disobedience meant watching their dynasty crumble and their descendants suffer for centuries.

Zhou Fushan was their first offering—a silent pledge, hoping it would coax Yue Fuguang into revealing more.

Then, they could tackle each issue one by one.

Yue Fuguang wasn’t present, but if she had been, she would have approved. No one wanted to be the first to act? Fine.

Her goal was simply to have these men do what she couldn’t—handle the people she couldn’t touch.

Complete the side tasks while slowly advancing the main mission. After all, the main mission was built upon eliminating Great Yan’s countless hidden dangers, big and small.

Meanwhile, Yue Fuguang’s face twisted in displeasure at the thought of waking early for court. Early classes at eight had been bad enough—now she had to rise at five?

Grumbling under her breath, she tried to psyche herself up. For my head, for my arms and legs, for my perfect body and supreme talent—I can endure a little hardship.

Whether she succeeded in convincing herself or not, the next morning, her mood was foul. The three Yu men attending court didn’t dare make a sound.

She didn’t even walk from her quarters to the carriage—a sturdy maidservant carried her the entire way.

Once inside, she went right back to sleep, undisturbed until they reached the palace gates.

At first, Yu Chongshan had intended to wake his slumbering granddaughter. But before he could, Eunuch Qian was already waiting at the entrance.

"Elder Yu," the eunuch said softly, "His Majesty has decreed that the Grand Tutor may enter by carriage."

Yu Chongshan expressed his gratitude but hesitated. "Eunuch Qian, Fuguang hasn’t eaten or drunk anything yet. I fear she won’t last until the assembly ends without some nourishment."

Qian Gui smiled reassuringly. "His Majesty anticipated this, Elder Yu. A small table will be prepared for the Grand Tutor with food and drink."

Though grateful, Yu Chongshan still wavered. "But wouldn’t that breach protocol? The other officials—"

"Rest assured," the eunuch replied. "The six ministers and several elders have already agreed. Even Censor Zhu suggested I inquire about the Grand Tutor’s dietary preferences today."

The Yu men thanked him profusely, but inwardly, they marveled. The fall of Great Yan had alarmed the court, but the three centuries of war that followed had truly terrified them.

Now, they were willing to overlook minor breaches of etiquette—united in their silent efforts to appease their family’s young charge.

Strangely, Yu Chongshan felt a flicker of pride.

Yue Fuguang was gently roused from pleasant dreams. Three years in this world had taught her she was still a guest here, so she stifled her irritation and squinted at the figure before her.

The sight of Eunuch Qian’s round, doughy face—wreathed in an ingratiating smile—made it hard to stay angry. After all, one shouldn’t strike a smiling man.