Jiang Cai did not know how to comfort her younger brother standing before her.
She truly was Jiang Gao’s strategist, yet she also genuinely felt a deep regret—like hating steel that refuses to become a blade.
Such a refined and upright gentleman, so radiant and clear as the bright sky after rain, could serve as Jiang Wanxiang’s successor, but was not fit to be the pillar of a world in chaos.
Everyone in the world may do what they want.
But Jiang Gao could not.
He was the son of Jiang Wanxiang, the eldest and crown prince, the heir apparent of this nation.
A ruler must have no blood or tears; he needed to bear the great will of generations of monarchs, carry the last turbulent winds sweeping across centuries of chaos.
Yet even so, using such means step by step to scheme and push Jiang Gao to undergo a metamorphosis stirred complicated feelings in Jiang Cai’s heart.
Though complicated, it was something that had to be done.
The fate of Daying, of the world, rested on this very thought.
In the Grand Tutor’s eyes, there was no Jiang Gao, nor Jiang Yuan.
What he needed was a sovereign with sufficient caliber—and he had chosen Jiang Yuan to serve as the whetstone to sharpen Jiang Gao.