Mythical Version of Three Kingdom

“It wasn’t his doing,” Jia Xu said, shaking his head. “At most, he just went along with the flow. That man is calm and extraordinarily wise—he wouldn’t act so rashly.”

“So, it was a case of using a borrowed knife to kill,” Guo Jia remarked disdainfully. “Going with the flow, leveraging a chain of events—if Chen Yuanlong couldn’t see through this, it would be surprising.”

“Some families are just like that,” Chen Xi chimed in casually. “But let’s not concern ourselves with them. This was clearly orchestrated by someone within Xuzhou. Their goal is probably just to sideline Tao Qianzhu and expand their family’s influence.”

Chen Xi didn’t think much of these petty schemes. If one were to divide the noble families of the world into three tiers and do the same with the wise men, the likes of Xun Yu, Xun You, Jia Xu, Tian Feng, and Ju Shou from the north would always be in the top tier because their focus was always on the grand scheme of things.

In the second tier, you would find historical figures like Lu Su, Zhou Yu, Lu Xun, Liao Li, and Liu Ba. Despite their wisdom, they were primarily concerned with carving out their own territories. This difference in vision led to very different outcomes, even though their intellects were on par with those in the top tier.

Finally, in the lowest tier, you had figures like Chen Deng, Yang Xiu, Zhang Zhao, and Gu Yong. Although not lacking in intelligence, their focus was limited to the short-term gains of their own families, and they could never break free from that narrow perspective. As a result, despite their talents, they often lived mediocre lives, unable to leave a lasting impact.

This is why those in the top tier, whether due to slightly weaker family backgrounds or slightly less talent, still managed to outshine the others. Their vision was not limited to a city or a region; they saw the world as their stage. Even in defeat, they lost in a way that commanded respect.

If one cannot break free from the shackles of their own mind, even extraordinary intelligence will lead only to limited results. This is why Chen Xi wasn’t too concerned about the likes of Chen Deng—despite his exceptional intellect, he would ultimately be confined to Xuzhou because of his family ties.

“That’s right, these are just minor tricks that don’t matter much,” Lu Su agreed, dropping the topic as well.

Having been thoroughly impressed by Chen Xi’s strategic thinking, which encompassed the entire world, Lu Su no longer feared any local noble family. They were insignificant threats—at most, minor nuisances. What could a small regional power, unable to openly recruit troops, really do?Liu Bei was taken aback. He had heard of Chen Deng’s reputation and had interacted with him as a representative of Tao Qian at Chen Xi’s wedding. Chen Deng was reputed to be a renowned statesman—surely, he couldn’t be so insignificant?

Perhaps noticing Liu Bei’s confusion, Liu Ye stood up and explained, “My lord may not know this, but while Chen Deng’s abilities are on par with ours, he has a fatal flaw—his single-minded focus on expanding his family’s power.”

“That’s normal, isn’t it? Everyone has their own goals, and striving for family prosperity isn’t wrong,” Liu Bei replied, puzzled.

“But Chen Yuanlong is too short-sighted—he focuses solely on strengthening his family,” Liu Ye said with a wry smile. “As a result, despite his considerable talent, he is confined to mediocrity.”

Liu Bei glanced at the gathered officials and noticed that they all nodded slightly in agreement, confirming Liu Ye’s assessment.

“Lord Xuande, do you know why a player who calculates every move in a game of Go often loses to one who sees the bigger picture?” Chen Xi offered an analogy, knowing that Liu Bei still didn’t fully grasp the importance of vision.

“Why?” Liu Bei pondered for a moment and realized it was true—between two equally skilled players, the one with a broader perspective usually won.

“Because no matter how carefully you calculate, there will always be details you miss. And when those details accumulate, even short-term goals become problematic. On the other hand, someone who sees the bigger picture can always make up for any mistakes by shifting resources as needed. In the end, the overall strategy remains intact,” Chen Xi explained with a smile.

As Chen Xi spoke, Lu Su also smiled. He had seen Chen Xi shift resources around countless times, balancing the grand strategy with small adjustments. While much of this was due to Chen Xi’s foresight, his ability to adapt and patch things up also played a crucial role—though he often did this in advance.

“In that case, Chen Yuanlong is indeed a bit of a waste of talent,” Liu Bei acknowledged. With Chen Xi by his side, he understood all too well that grand strategy was far more important than minor details.

“It’s all about vision. A ruler who can see the bigger picture doesn’t need to know much else—they can still govern the world well,” Chen Xi sighed. “But unfortunately, more than ninety percent of people lack that vision. Perhaps it’s a matter of perspective?”

As he said this, Chen Xi couldn’t help but glance at Li Ru and Guo Jia. These two were true men of humble origins, yet their vision was terrifyingly broad.

The other advisors also nodded in agreement. They might not have fully realized it before, but as Taishan and Qingzhou rapidly expanded like a snowball rolling downhill, they had noticed that vision often outperformed raw intelligence. Problems that seemed insurmountable could often be resolved with a far-sighted perspective—something Chen Xi excelled at.

“In that case, we’ll put the Qingzhou campaign on hold. If Cao Cao attacks Xuzhou in a fit of rage, Zilong will still lead the vanguard,” Liu Bei amended his orders, relieved that he hadn’t yet set a fixed date for the campaign. Once military orders were issued, there was no going back.

“Understood,” Zhao Yun replied calmly. He didn’t care whether he was fighting in Qingzhou or against Cao Cao—he simply wanted to hone his skills on the battlefield.

“Hmm, should we inform Xizhi of Cao Song’s death?” Liu Ye suggested with a wicked grin. “I’ve heard that a long journey could leave him bedridden. Should we give it a try? Given his loyalty to Cao Mengde, he’d surely rush back to Yanzhou. A journey like that, tsk tsk…”

“There’s no need to expose our strong intelligence network,” Guo Jia interjected calmly, glancing at Liu Ye.

“That’s true. No need to reveal our intelligence capabilities,” Chen Xi agreed. “Let’s wait and see for now.”

“Ten days should be enough. By then, even if Xizhi finds out, it’ll be too late for him to make it back,” Guo Jia added.

It couldn’t be denied that Guo Jia had a personal vendetta. If Xizhi were to die on the road due to the long journey, that would be too mundane an ending. After suffering so much at his hands over the years, Guo Jia wasn’t content to let it end that way. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he had defeated Xizhi fair and square on the battlefield.

“By the way, Zilong, I’ve been meaning to ask—what’s going on with your troops? After activating your Yun Qi, the army feels a bit... strange,” Chen Xi said, uninterested in Guo Jia’s personal vendetta. He knew Guo Jia could separate personal and public matters well.

“It seems that after activating Yun Qi, the commander’s will and personality influence the soldiers. According to my master, Yun Qi connects everyone, centering around the commander. The stronger the commander, or rather, the stronger the will, the more evident the commander’s influence on the soldiers,” Zhao Yun explained, though he sounded uncertain.