Three urgent, secret letters were dispatched from the Taihang Mountain range, arriving one after another at the White Feathered Eagle encampment.
Seventh Uncle Fang, Lu Yao, and the others read the letters, completely baffled.
Fang Yang had ordered them not to act rashly and to avoid getting swept into the coming vortex of war for the time being.
This directive was highly unusual, running completely contrary to the prevailing consensus.
After all, wasn't everyone sharpening their blades, ready to swing them hard in the coming war and make a fortune?
"I don't really understand his orders. The Eight Banner Army is at the peak of its strength right now. Even opening two fronts simultaneously wouldn't be a problem for them."
His younger cousin, Fang Xuan, looked hesitant. "Besides, our White Feathered Eagle tribe will just be operating on the fringes of the battlefield, carrying out minor missions like small-scale encirclements. We shouldn't run into any real danger, right...?"
