Three days later. The Imperial Academy examination grounds in the eastern part of the Thang Long Imperial Capital were bustling with noise and excitement today.
Unlike the ordinary metropolitan examinations where only scholars in long robes and turbans gathered, this special examination to select "Strategists" for the Six Gates (Lục Phiến Môn) attracted all sorts of people. There were impoverished scholars harboring ambitions to govern the state and pacify the realm, low-ranking officials seeking a faster path to promotion, and quite a few wandering martial artists—rogue cultivators who had grown sick of a life of slaughter and wished to exchange their intellect for an official status within the Imperial Court.
The atmosphere was both solemn and somewhat chaotic, perfectly reflecting the very nature of the Six Gates—an agency situated between the martial world (jianghu) and the imperial court.
Tran Kien, under the guise of an ordinary scholar named Ve Nhan, quietly blended into the crowd.
He did not stand out in the slightest. Two years of bitter cultivation and life-and-death battles had taught him the most flawless method of concealment. His mid-stage Foundation Establishment aura was restrained to the point of near nonexistence, leaving only the refined, gentle demeanor of a mortal scholar. Yet, hidden behind those calm eyes was a mind operating at terrifying speeds, observing and analyzing everything.
He noticed that the examiners seated upon the high platform were not the grand scholars of the Imperial Academy. The person seated in the center was a middle-aged man donning a purple official's robe. His face was resolute, his gaze as sharp as a falcon's, and his entire being exuded an aura as hard as iron and stone. Beside him sat an expressionless old eunuch and a martial general clad in gleaming armor. These were all major figures within the court, men capable of seeing through a person's heart with a single glance.
After three long beats of the drum, the examination officially began.
The examination papers were distributed. It was not the usual essays on classics or poetry. On the Xuan paper, there was only a single question—a hypothetical scenario.
"In Hoan Province to the south, a bandit gang has risen, led by a man with the moniker 'Black Panther', at the early Foundation Establishment stage. He commands over five hundred subordinates and occupies Hong Mountain, a place of treacherous terrain. They not only plunder but also collude with local chieftains. Supported by the ignorant masses, their momentum grows by the day, and the imperial troops have failed repeatedly in their campaigns. If you were the Imperial Envoy dispatched there, with only three hundred soldiers and no reinforcements, how would you pacify the rebellion within three months with minimal casualties?"
An incredibly thorny question. It tested not only knowledge of military strategy but also psychological analysis, political maneuvering, and decisiveness.
After reading the prompt, the other examinees furrowed their brows, racking their brains. Some began quoting Sun Tzu's Art of War, others drafted plans for frontal assaults, and some proposed strategies for peaceful surrender.
But Tran Kien, upon reading it, merely smiled faintly. To others, this might be a difficult problem. But to him—the one who had single-handedly thrown the City of Chaos into turmoil and annihilated the Black Eagle Fort—this was like a familiar chessboard.
He was in no rush to put pen to paper. He closed his eyes, replaying in his mind all the stratagems he had learned and utilized. "Know the enemy and know yourself," "Sowing Discord," "Borrowing a knife to kill another," "The Guest Usurping the Host"...
After a long while, he opened his eyes and picked up his writing brush. He did not write a lengthy, verbose essay. He merely wrote down three stratagems—brief and concise, yet incredibly ruthless and effective.
"The First Stratagem: Sowing Discord." "Black Panther is supported by the populace not out of love, but because he brings them benefits while the imperial troops are powerless. To break this alliance, the people must lose their faith. Send infiltrators to spread false rumors that Black Panther has secretly surrendered to the Imperial Court, and that his plundering is merely an act to accumulate merit. Simultaneously, have men disguise themselves as bandits to raid the villages supporting him at night—do not kill, only burn houses and steal grain, inciting absolute outrage. Water can carry a boat, but it can also capsize it. Once the support of the people is lost, Black Panther will become a tiger deprived of its mountain forest."
"The Second Stratagem: Luring the Tiger to Swallow the Wolf." "Black Panther has five hundred subordinates, but they certainly do not share a single heart. Among them must be ambitious lieutenants. Investigate the one with the greatest ambition, approach him in secret, and make him a promise. Promise that as long as he can claim Black Panther's head, the Imperial Court will not only pardon his crimes but also appoint him as the new leader to inherit the entire stronghold. Use the enemy's own greed to destroy the enemy. This is the sharpest of knives that requires no sharpening."
"The Third Stratagem: Killing the Chicken to Warn the Monkeys." "Once Black Panther is dead due to his subordinate's betrayal, the stronghold will inevitably plunge into chaos. Only then will our three hundred soldiers appear. But not to attack. We appear to 'compel surrender'. Hang Black Panther's head upon the stronghold gates. Declare that those who submit shall be pardoned, and those who resist shall be killed without mercy. Under the threat of death and internal chaos, the vast majority of the bandits will certainly lay down their weapons. By merely executing a few of the most stubborn ringleaders, we can subdue an entire stronghold without expending a single soldier."
Three stratagems. Layer upon layer, striking directly at the psyche and the human heart. There was not a single frontal assault tactic. Yet it was more terrifying than an army of ten thousand.
Having finished writing, Tran Kien did not bother to review it. He set his brush down and was the first to hand in his paper. Without the slightest hesitation, he turned and left the examination grounds, leaving behind a wake of astonished gazes.
Up on the high platform, the purple-robed official—the head of the Six Gates, Tao Chinh—personally reviewed the submissions. He read through dozens of papers, only to shake his head, disappointment evident in his eyes.
But when he picked up "Ve Nhan's" paper, his previously calm eyes suddenly contracted. The more he read, the more his hands trembled—not out of fear, but out of sheer agitation.
"Excellent! Truly excellent!" He couldn't help but slam the table and shoot up to his feet. "Sharp intellect, ruthless stratagems, completely avoiding the beaten path! This person is no scholar. This person... is a dagger honed within a sea of blood!"
He turned to the eunuch beside him. "Send men to investigate immediately! I want to know exactly what kind of sacred existence this 'Ve Nhan' is!"
The door leading to the center of Dai Viet's power had quietly opened a crack for Tran Kien. On the chessboard of the Imperial Capital, a new piece had been placed—a piece no one could have possibly anticipated.