Blackstone Code

“Your Majesty, gentlemen!”

Lynch bowed slightly to the emperor in respect, his calm gaze sweeping over the nobles and ministers. His voice was steady, without trembling or fluctuation, giving a sense of reliability.

His pronunciation of the common language was precise, without any Federation accent—truly international.

“When facing a problem, I usually break it down into stages: identifying the problem, seeking solutions, implementing concrete steps, accumulating phased victories, and finally achieving the goal.”

“I’ve been monitoring the situation in Amellia and pinpointed the core reason for the chaos there: the empire’s soldiers can’t win in battle, can’t outrun the enemy, and can’t find the root cause of it all.”

The emperor glanced quickly at the Minister of the Army and stroked his beard with a noticeable motion. The army minister caught it and cleared his throat, as if trying to stop Lynch from continuing.

Lynch looked politely at him. “Sir, are you feeling unwell?”

The minister shook his head, unsure if Lynch was genuinely naïve or just pretending. “My throat’s a bit itchy.”

At this point, the exchange could have remained civil. Normally, Lynch might have shown some concern and then shifted topics to save face and keep things smooth.

But he didn’t. “Sir, if you can’t face your pain or admit your mistakes, and keep avoiding these issues, they will never disappear—they will always surround you.”

“We all know this truth, and we know problems don’t vanish just because you ignore them.”

“Now that we recognize them, we must tackle them—not pretend they don’t exist.”

“Am I right?”

“Sir?!”

The army minister was speechless, forced to sit down awkwardly. He glanced at the emperor, feeling he’d done all he could.

The emperor frowned, clearly displeased. These were the empire’s wounds, his most hated issues, and he didn’t want to hear about them.

Gephra’s army could only bully weaker, technologically backward nations; beyond that, it was ineffective.

The navy’s continuous victories masked the army’s failures, so Gephrans hadn’t seriously considered reforming the army for years.

This was partly due to the navy’s overwhelming power. The age of great navigation made sea control vital; the navy could do what the army could not, so the army’s flaws were overlooked.

There’s a saying: Before the cripple walks, people only care about his hat. This vividly describes Gephra’s current condition—fixing it means facing the problem head-on.

After a moment, the emperor relaxed his brow, tapped the throne’s armrest, drawing attention.

“Continue, Mr. Lynch.”

Lynch bowed again in respect, then said, “Let’s analyze the reasons. First: they can’t win.”

“Geography means Gephrans don’t face enemies in direct land battles, so they’ve neglected the army. As a result…” He grimaced, “I’d rather not mention their performance in Amellia.”

“Second: they can’t run fast enough. The soldiers lack systematic military training. Given the first point, I understand—the army seems more like a ceremonial guard than a fighting force.”

“When favored by the wind, they can’t catch fleeing enemies; when trapped, they can’t outrun pursuers.”

“Third: they can’t find them.”

“So far, I’ve noticed the empire hasn’t captured a single anti-government armed leader, nor effectively destroyed any of those groups.”

The room grew heavy with tension. Two years of chaos in Amellia, and the empire hadn’t even caught one notable figure, let alone dismantled organizations.

The core of this military decay is summed up in Lynch’s three points:

Can’t win, can’t run, can’t find.

No matter how strong a fighter is, he can’t beat an enemy he can never reach.