Chapter Thirty-Eight: Professionalism

"I have three strategies: a lower, a middle, and an upper one!" Shi Fei held up three fingers.

Murong Bo asked hurriedly, "What are these three strategies?"

"The lower strategy is to establish a sect, either in Shandong or north of the Huai River. Use it to bewitch the masses, defrauding them of money, grain, and loyalty. Once the time is right, you could sweep across an entire region," Shi Fei said. "Partitioning a territory and declaring yourself a sovereign would be easy."

Murong Bo’s eyes lit up. Why hadn’t he thought of that? Since ancient times, many uprisings had relied on supernatural omens to build momentum. "It’s nothing but swindling and charlatanism; the foundations are unstable!" he said stubbornly.

"Still better than what you have now!" Shi Fei retorted. "The middle strategy is to join the imperial court, distinguish yourself through merit, and become a powerful minister. Then, have the yellow robe draped over you in a coup, and overthrow the dynasty in one stroke!"

This was the path of Zhao Kuangyin, the path of the Northern Song.

Murong Bo found this difficult. "Joining the court and becoming a powerful minister—how arduous is that?"

Shi Fei countered, "Do you know of Murong Yanzhao?"

Murong Yanzhao was a famous general from the Five Dynasties and Ten Kingdoms period through the early Northern Song, the son of Murong Zhang, the governor of Kaizhou. He had spent his life in campaigns, participating in the key wars of unification for the Later Zhou and Northern Song dynasties, earning illustrious merit. He played a crucial role in the founding of the Northern Song and was considered one of its founding fathers. After his death, the court posthumously granted him the title of Chancellor and Duke of Henan. His descendants were still serving as officials in the Song court today.

Murong Bo replied, "I know him, of course. He is a distant relative of our Murong clan. We have always looked down upon them."

*It is clearly they who look down on you!* One was a peerage-holding noble of the Great Song; the other was a madman obsessed with restoring a lost empire. They were not of the same ilk. If they even spared you a glance, they would be losing.

"Look at how they have flourished, and look at your own state!" Shi Fei said.

Murong Bo stiffened his neck and said stubbornly, "They are nothing but lapdogs for others! Lackeys of the court!"

"And you are a stray dog!" Shi Fei exposed him without hesitation. "You have achieved nothing!"

"How difficult it is to accomplish great things," Murong Bo sighed. "I am now over forty. I have worked diligently for the sake of restoration. Now, you have fallen into this madness. It does not matter whether you are my son or not, but you must remember the goal of restoration." In his heart, his son was important, but the restoration was more so. If he had to choose between the two, he would undoubtedly choose the restoration. How hard it was! Half his life had passed, and despite all his efforts, his dream remained a castle in the air, a moon reflected in the water—visible, yet forever out of reach.

Shi Fei said, "Liu Bei, at forty or fifty, wept when he saw the fat returning to his thighs because he had been idle for so long. You are in your forties, the prime age for struggle. Why..."

"If you grow slack and discouraged at the first sign of trouble, how will you ever achieve greatness?"

Liu Bei lived as a guest in Jingzhou at the age of forty, living under another man's roof for eight years, achieving nothing. One day, while using the latrine, he noticed that the fat on his inner thighs, which had vanished from years of constant riding, had returned. Lamenting his advanced age and his unfulfilled ambitions, he could not help but shed tears. Compared to a hero like Liu Bei, Murong Bo’s expectation that his son would handle the restoration was far too small-minded. Forty was the prime age for struggle!

Shi Fei continued, "You rely on your son? Your son will rely on his son—generation after generation. It is no wonder you have achieved nothing in seven hundred years! If you won't work hard yourself and only expect others to do it, you are truly a failure. You might as well call yourself 'Murong the Failure'."

Instead of counting on a son, you should count on yourself! Throughout history, no great hero ever relied on their son to establish a nation. Shi Fei’s words were essentially a direct insult to Murong Bo’s face.

Being lectured like this, Murong Bo found himself unable to retort, his face flushing red. "What is the upper strategy then?" If it were anyone else, he would have attacked, but he couldn't beat the boy.

"The upper strategy..." Shi Fei thought for a moment, recalling the "Dragon-Slaying Technique" he had seen. "You are not worthy to hear it." He paused. "Though, there is a strategy that is not quite an upper strategy, but serves as one."

"What is a strategy that is not quite an upper strategy?" Murong Bo asked.

Shi Fei replied, "Go to the northern grasslands, gather the tribes, rebuild the Xianbei Murong clan, and build your strength bit by bit! A man’s glory should be won on horseback! The Liao Dynasty is not an iron monolith. When the time is right, you might well establish a massive empire spanning the north!"

Murong Bo pondered this. To put it nicely, it was "annexing tribes to rebuild the Xianbei"; to put it bluntly, it was "going to the grasslands to eat the northwest wind." He hesitated. Having grown up in the Jiangnan region, he rarely went north, let alone to the grasslands. If he really went to the northern plains, would he be able to adapt? Could he lower his status to win over the nomads? Would those people even submit to him? Many questions flashed through his mind, and his face showed his indecision.

Shi Fei looked at him and sighed. "A man like you is too attached to his own life to achieve great things, and you forget righteousness for the sake of petty gains. You despise the lower strategy, and you lack the courage to risk your life for the upper. Then let us go with the middle strategy!"

"Study hard and prepare for the imperial examinations. When the world falls into chaos in the future, you might just become a regional warlord."

Murong Bo asked, "What if the world does not fall into chaos?"

"Then at least you will have established an official family lineage. Won't it be easier for your son to rebel later?" Shi Fei said.

Murong Bo nodded. That seemed to make some sense. So... he had to start preparing for the imperial examinations? First the county and prefecture exams to become a student, then the academy exam to become a *xiucai*, then the provincial exam to become a *juren*. Finally, the metropolitan and palace exams to become a protégé of the Emperor and secure an official post. The mere thought of that journey made Murong Bo’s scalp tingle. If he had been capable of studying and understanding those texts when he was young, wouldn't he have passed long ago?

"That also seems improper..." he mused, feeling that the path of the imperial exams was also quite difficult. "Even if I study, I might not pass!"

Shi Fei glanced at him. "Can't you cheat?"

"Huh?" Murong Bo was stunned.

"You are taking the exams to become a strategist; obviously, you should use the most efficient method! If you really go and take the test by the book, you'll be at it until the end of time!" Shi Fei felt that some wood could not be carved. *I even know who the next emperor will be, but I won't tell you! Let you fumble around on your own.*

"Now, start memorizing!" Shi Fei took a copy of *The Doctrine of the Mean* and slapped it down in front of Murong Bo. "Memorize this today. You don't eat until you're finished!"

Murong Bo looked at the book, unwilling to read. Shi Fei continued his psychological manipulation: "Have you forgotten the glory of the Murong clan? Do you no longer want to restore the nation? Do you still plan to rely on your son? Perhaps you should go marry a few more concubines and have more sons to do it for you?"

Murong Bo’s face twitched. He looked at his son, Murong Fu, sighed, and picked up *The Doctrine of the Mean*. At this moment, the roles of father and son seemed to have reversed.

Shi Fei watched Murong Bo reading and picked up a book of his own, titled *The Duke of Zhou’s Interpretation of Dreams*. What was the meaning of the dreams he had every night? Was he truly destined to live out another entire life within this dream? But if he ended the dream too early, he wouldn't be able to sleep... and not being able to sleep was a form of agony. He needed to find a way to make sure he could sleep.