DLERB -Chapter 42 He Isn’t Critiquing—He’s Performing a Post-Mortem on My Military Strategy!

Han Xin stepped forward at the summons.

He did not approach the sand table. He simply stood where he was, his gaze sweeping across the massive map like two cold rulers measuring everything in sight.

Then he withdrew his eyes.

The entire process took no more than ten breaths.

Wang Jian felt his heart rise to his throat.

Even Li Si didn’t dare to breathe.

Han Xin extended a finger, pointing from a distance at the banner representing the Lantian garrison on the sand table.

His voice carried no fluctuation at all, as if he were stating a fact unrelated to himself.

“Lantian garrison: seventy thousand troops. On the surface, it appears to be the barrier shielding Xianyang. In reality, it is bloated and unstable.”

Wang Jian’s pupils contracted. He spoke instinctively.

“Impossible! The Lantian garrison is personally overseen by Grand General Meng Yi. The camp is solid, mutually supporting, and was personally supervised by me when it was built!”

Han Xin finally moved his gaze away from the sand table and looked at Wang Jian.

“A commander who does not understand his troops, and troops who do not understand their commander.”

“There are many factions within the camp. Orders are inconsistent.”

“Send thirty thousand exhausted troops to feint an attack on its left flank, pretending to cut its supply line.”

“For stability’s sake, Meng Yi will inevitably tighten defenses and redeploy the entire camp.”

“Within a single day, seventy thousand troops will collapse into paralysis due to chaotic movements.”

After speaking, Han Xin no longer looked at him.

Wang Jian’s face turned red.

Every word Han Xin spoke felt like a red-hot iron branding the face of the empire’s greatest military figure.

He knew the internal problems of the Lantian garrison. Meng Yi knew as well.

But those were chronic issues—deep-rooted ailments accumulated over generations of military families, problems that would ripple across the entire system if touched.

They had assumed they could be slowly corrected. They had assumed the enemy could not see through the apparent order concealing the festering rot beneath.

But in this man’s eyes, all of it was as clear as lines on his palm.

Li Si didn’t understand military strategy, but he could read Wang Jian’s expression.

The old general’s face had gone from flushed red to a heavy iron-gray.

Li Si felt his back already drenched in sweat.

Han Xin moved his finger again.

This time he pointed to another critical location on the map—the Wei River crossing.

“The Wei River crossing is guarded by three thousand troops under the jurisdiction of the Internal Guard.”

“Every day at the third quarter of the Mao hour, they rotate shifts with the city patrol guards.”

“The transition includes document verification, password checks—everything in order.”

Wang Jian moved his lips, as if wanting to say this was precisely the embodiment of strict defense.

But he didn’t manage to speak.

Because Han Xin’s next words sent him plunging into an ice cave.

“From the moment the city patrol leaves to the Internal Guard taking over the post, there is a half-hour gap.”

“During this half hour, there are two blind spots on the northern riverbank watchposts.”

“Three thousand elite death soldiers could cross the river in that window.”

“After crossing, there is no need to attack Xianyang directly.”

“Simply set fire to the official granaries in the western part of the city.”

“Within three days, Xianyang will fall into chaos.”

“Bang!”

The candle stand beside Wang Jian was knocked over by his trembling hand.

All strength seemed to drain from his body.

His face had gone completely pale.

If the Lantian garrison was a chronic illness, then the flaw at the Wei River crossing was a blade hanging directly over Xianyang’s throat.

And he—the Martial Peace Duke of Qin, the commander who had swept across the Six Kingdoms—had never noticed it.

Li Si’s heart jolted violently.

Burn the granaries!

As chancellor, he would be the first to be held accountable!

He looked at the black-armored man with eyes that no longer saw a human being.

It was as if he were looking at a god… one who judged the sins of mortals.

Han Xin’s gaze finally landed on the last location on the sand table.

A strategically vital pass, like a nail driven deep into the road leading to Xianyang.

This was one of Wang Jian’s proudest achievements in his lifetime of warfare.

And yet—

Han Xin spoke.

Two words.

“A joke.”

BOOM!

Wang Jian’s mind went completely blank.

He stared at Han Xin, eyes wide, lips trembling—but not a single word could come out.

He heard that cold voice continuing to pass judgment on the achievements of his entire life.

“Relying on difficult terrain and assuming complete security.”

“What is such a commander if not a fool pig?”

“Behind the pass lies a sheer cliff, thirty zhang high, known as ‘Ape Sorrow Ravine.’”

“The defenders believe it impossible to climb and have never fortified it.”

“Only three hundred death soldiers, scaling the cliff with ropes at night, would be enough.”

“In less than an hour, the gate could be taken.”

“At that point, the main road will be open, and Xianyang’s gates will stand wide.”

“This pass will become the first bridgehead for enemy forces to penetrate deep into Great Qin.”

“And Xianyang will become… an isolated city.”

Han Xin finished speaking.

The room fell into a deathly silence.

Wang Jian’s body swayed violently.

He staggered back a step and crashed into the bookshelf behind him.

“Crash—”

Countless precious bamboo slips scattered across the floor.

“A joke…”

“An isolated city…”

The old general repeated those words in a hollow, broken voice.

His lifelong pride—everything he had built through decades of military achievement—had been reduced to a laughingstock in just a few sentences from this man.

This was not criticism.

This was a post-mortem.

This man was writing a cold, merciless autopsy report for a corpse named “Great Qin’s defenses.”

Li Si dropped to his knees with a thud.

Not because he was frightened.

He simply could not remain standing.

Ying Ziye jumped down from the main seat, letting out a soft chuckle.

He walked to the scattered bamboo slips and bent down to pick one up.

“See?”

He held the bamboo slip up toward the two utterly defeated senior ministers.

“This prince told you—it’s a sieve.”

Wang Jian suddenly lifted his head. His aged face was filled with despair and terror.

He looked at Ying Ziye, his voice hoarse.

“Your Highness… this old servant… this old servant is guilty!”

Ying Ziye shook his head and sighed like a little adult.

“It’s not your fault.”

“So, this prince has decided.”

He casually tossed the bamboo slip aside.

“The defense of Xianyang must be reformed.”

“From today onward, we establish the ‘Divine Strategists Army’!”

“Strength: three thousand men!”

“Personally commanded by Uncle Han Xin!”

He turned to Han Xin, his young face full of anticipation.

“These three thousand men—I want them to match thirty thousand!”

“To withstand… three hundred thousand!”

“What?!”

Wang Jian cried out in shock, as if he had just heard something utterly absurd.

He struggled up from the ground and rushed toward Ying Ziye.

“Your Highness! This is absolutely impossible!”

He pointed at his empty hands, shouting urgently.

“Where are the soldiers? All elite troops of Xianyang are already assigned to their units and cannot be moved!”

“Where is the funding? Establishing a new army requires enormous expense—the treasury is already empty!”

“Where are the armor and weapons? The armory stock is fixed and accounted for!”

“Where is the time?! His Majesty’s carriage will return in at most three days! How can a strong army be trained in three days?!”

With each question, Wang Jian’s voice grew louder—and more desperate.

Ying Ziye watched his frantic expression, but a mysterious smile appeared on his face, one that did not belong to a child his age.

He raised his small hand and patted Wang Jian’s arm reassuringly.

“Old general, don’t be anxious.”

“As for soldiers… that’s easy.”

Ying Ziye turned his head.

His pitch-black eyes, like an abyss, slowly shifted toward Li Si, who was still kneeling on the ground.

“As for money and provisions…”

“Chancellor?”