I, Am a Living Yama; Empress Advises Me to Stay Calm

Wu Zhao’s expression softened as she looked at Yang Yi. However, she hesitated.
“Minister Yang, this plan does not involve the use of poison, does it?”
The room fell silent.
“After the Qing Dynasty was conquered, many Qing people still resent Great Zhou for the smallpox strategy. To this day, remnants of resistance linger in secret.”
She paused, her sharp gaze sweeping across the ministers.
“The Song people are brave and resilient, unlike the Qing. If we harm them with another large-scale poison attack, it might provoke deeper resentment and ignite even fiercer resistance.”
A murmur of agreement rippled through the hall.
At the time of the Qing conquest, Great Zhou’s position had been precarious. The smallpox strategy had turned the tide, allowing a vastly outnumbered army to overcome the Qing’s overwhelming strength.
The results had been decisive—a victory hailed as miraculous.
But the cost had been steep. The death toll from the plague had left deep scars, ensuring the Qing people’s animosity toward Great Zhou. Even now, generations later, integration remained elusive.
Wu Zhao’s voice softened as she added,
“Now that Great Zhou possesses the strength to subdue the Song Dynasty, we must consider our legacy. A ‘benevolent rule’ would strengthen our hold and bolster our reputation in the long term.”
Yang Yi met her gaze with a calm smile.
“Your Majesty, rest assured, this plan does not involve the use of poison or plagues.”
A collective sigh of relief swept through the hall.
“This is a national policy,” he continued, his tone measured. “It will bring the already crumbling Song Dynasty to its knees without shedding unnecessary blood. It will turn the Zhao family into a disgrace within their own kingdom.”
His words caught everyone’s attention. Eyes filled with curiosity turned toward him.
“What strategy could be so powerful?” someone murmured.
Yang Yi’s lips curled into a faint smile. “This strategy is called ‘
.’”
A wave of confusion spread through the hall. Ministers exchanged puzzled glances.
“That’s it?” Wei Yuanzhong muttered under his breath.
Xu Jingzong, equally perplexed, furrowed his brow. “It sounds… ordinary.”
Wu Zhao’s phoenix-like eyes narrowed as she studied Yang Yi.
“Southerners return south, northerners return north?” she repeated, her voice tinged with skepticism.
“Minister Yang, what does this mean? Explain.”
Yang Yi remained unruffled, his chiseled features calm as he met the empress’s gaze.
He raised a finger, gesturing for patience.
“Your Majesty, let us consider the state of the Song Dynasty. Emperor Zhao Ji has abandoned the north, fleeing south to rebuild his court. During his reign, corruption flourished, and the people suffered under heavy taxes and levies.”
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle.
“Now, facing the unstoppable advance of Great Zhou, what do you think Zhao Ji’s next move will be?”
The ministers fell silent, each pondering the question.
Wu Zhao’s voice broke the stillness. “Given the Song Dynasty’s past behavior… he will likely seek peace.”
Yang Yi’s smile deepened. “Precisely. And we will grant him that peace—but on our terms.”
The hall buzzed with murmurs of intrigue.
“We will release one of the captured Song officials to deliver our message. Great Zhou will propose a policy of ‘Southerners Return South, Northerners Return North.’ If Zhao Ji agrees, we will cease our advance and allow him to keep his southern court.”
He paused, scanning the room before delivering the crux of his plan.
“The decree will mandate that all officials and civilians of northern origin must return to the north, while those of southern origin remain in the south.”
The hall fell silent again. Confusion clouded the faces of many ministers.
Finally, a bold voice broke the quiet.
“Minister Yang, I fail to see how this would crush the Song Dynasty. Could you elaborate?”
Yang Yi’s gaze swept the room, his voice calm but sharp.
“Think carefully. Where will the northerners in the south go?”
No one answered.
He continued, his tone growing colder. “The north is under Great Zhou’s control. If they return, they will become our subjects. Their emperor, Zhao Ji, will have abandoned them. The decree will strip them of their homeland and identity, making them orphans of their own nation.”
Gasps echoed through the chamber as realization dawned.
“Imagine the impact on the resistance,” Yang Yi said, his voice steady.
“Loyal soldiers like Yue Fei, who fight with unyielding patriotism, will feel the sting of betrayal. Their emperor will have surrendered their cause, leaving them leaderless and without purpose.”
He paused, letting his words sink in. “As for the southerners, seeing their northern compatriots abandoned will spark fear and distrust. The emperor’s cowardice will shatter their loyalty. The people’s hearts will divide. Their unity will crumble. And with it, the Song Dynasty will fall.”
The hall was deathly silent.
Ministers stared at Yang Yi in awe and horror. His plan, deceptively simple, was devastating in its implications.
“It is ruthless,” one official whispered, his voice trembling. “To turn a people’s own emperor into their betrayer… This is worse than death.”
Another added, “Minister Yang, you are truly the king of cunning strategies.”
Wu Zhao’s expression remained unreadable as she studied her chief minister. After a moment, she nodded slowly.
“This is indeed a brilliant plan,” she said, her voice calm but resolute. “But implementing it will require precision. Make the necessary preparations.”
Yang Yi bowed deeply. “Your Majesty, I will ensure its success.”
The hall slowly emptied, the ministers departing in silence. Each man carried the weight of the plan’s implications, unable to shake the chilling brilliance of Yang Yi’s strategy.