After a month or half a month, Mr. Bolton would make a trip to the city, listen to some fresh news at the teahouse, and come back to brag about it to these rustic villagers.

Mr. Bolton was almost the village’s only link to the outside world, and no one ever doubted him.

“Everyone, rest assured, we won’t be going to war with the Guirong anymore. On my trip out this time, I heard that His Majesty has already decided to marry Princess Liangyun to the Guirong’s King Zhai, Di Jiang. The two families will reconcile. Princess Liangyun is the emperor’s own daughter, beautiful and graceful. By marrying into the Guirong, she will surely ensure peace on the border. There’s no need to worry about conscription anymore…”

The villagers breathed a collective sigh of relief, their voices filled with joy. In recent years, the Great Xia and the western Guirong had been in constant friction, and a great war seemed imminent. Once war broke out, it would bring disaster to the people, and even small mountain villages like theirs would not escape the hardship of conscription.

But Henry Stone frowned as he listened, and couldn’t help but raise his voice: “On the contrary, His Majesty marrying his own daughter to Di Jiang actually shows he’s made up his mind to go to war. If that weren’t the case, he could have chosen any royal woman to marry into the Guirong—why send his own daughter to suffer? His Majesty is merely putting on a show, buying time to prepare for war, but he’s overlooked how desperate this gesture appears. And that Guirong King Zhai, Di Jiang, who has made the Guirong army strong and commands a million armored troops, must be a man of great talent and ambition. As the king of the Guirong, what kind of woman couldn’t he have? Why would he submit to Great Xia just for Princess Liangyun? This war between the two families is inevitable.”

Henry Stone himself hadn’t expected to say such things, as if this insight had always been in his mind. For a simple village boy like him, slow-witted and ignorant of state affairs, such analysis should have been impossible.

Behind Henry Stone, a man wearing a bamboo hat had his whole face covered. He had been staggering along the road, half-drunk, but when he heard Henry Stone’s words, his eyes suddenly lit up, and he couldn’t help but take another look at this village boy.

Mr. Bolton had always “commented on the world” in this little mountain village—when had anyone ever contradicted him? He immediately flew into a rage, pointed at Henry Stone, and cursed, “What does a brat like you know? How dare you spout nonsense here! If things were really as you say, why would the Guirong accept His Majesty’s marriage proposal?”

Henry Stone was still confused, but upon hearing Mr. Bolton’s question, a thought naturally popped into his mind, and he blurted out, “The Guirong have a strong army, but what they lack is provisions. King Zhai of the Guirong is just trying to buy time to gather supplies.”

The man behind Henry Stone nodded to himself. These principles were simple, but to state them so plainly was not easy. Even the classmates at the academy who often discussed world affairs might not see things as clearly as this village boy. The man was impressed, and couldn’t help but take another swig from his gourd.

Mr. Bolton was left speechless, unable to argue back. In his anger, he threw out, “Ignorant child, speaking recklessly about state affairs!” and stormed off. He hadn’t paid any attention to the man behind Henry Stone; if he had gone over and taken off the man’s bamboo hat and seen his face, he would have been shocked and called out his name: Brian Foster. He would never have just walked away.

The villagers, seeing this, all blamed Henry Stone for angering Mr. Bolton and depriving them of fresh news. They looked down on him for knowing nothing and talking nonsense. With the two families about to be joined by marriage, how could there still be war?

Henry Stone had nothing to say. His little sister Sarah Stone, only five years old, with two pigtails sticking up, stood angrily by her brother’s side, helping him argue with the villagers.

Suddenly, Henry Stone had an epiphany: how could these native-born neighbors understand the cruel calculations of emperors? Naturally, they believed His Majesty would never send his own daughter into the fire just to buy a few years’ time.

Having figured this out, he laughed heartily and walked away with his sister, forgetting to wonder how he, a native-born himself, could understand such things.

“Hey, little guy, wait for me.” The bamboo-hatted Brian Foster hurriedly called after him. Henry Stone slapped his forehead apologetically, “Sorry, I forgot to show you the way. Just follow the road east from the village entrance, and you’ll soon reach the main road…”

Brian Foster waved his hand, his boozy breath making Sarah Stone pinch her nose and roll her eyes at him. Brian Foster didn’t mind at all; instead, he laughed heartily, flicked one of Sarah Stone’s pigtails, making her puff out her cheeks and glare at him.

Brian Foster refused to back down, puffing out his cheeks and glaring back, looking like a toad as he squared off with Sarah Stone. In the end, Sarah Stone couldn’t outlast him; her eyes hurt from glaring, and she pouted, rubbing her eyes with her hands: “You’re bullying me!”

“Hahaha!” Brian Foster laughed triumphantly, not at all ashamed to be bickering with a child. Amid his wild and unrestrained manner, there was a certain extraordinary cheerfulness. He asked Henry Stone, “You speak so insightfully—do you have any solution to the current stalemate?”

Henry Stone shook his head. “War between the two nations is inevitable. If Great Xia has any plans, it’s only to seek victory.”

Brian Foster stroked his chin and nodded. “Go on.”