I Transmigrated to Ancient Times, but I Can't Keep My Fiefdom Hidden

Everyone says that being sent to the Northern Frontier was the dead end my father, the Emperor, had chosen for me.

When my elder brother came to visit in disguise, the eunuch beside him was still laughing. "The Ninth Prince is probably so poor he can't even afford salt."

The next moment, he saw the commoners lining up to buy refined salt, priced even lower than the coarse salt in the capital.

He thought I was hoarding a salt mine to make a fortune. I pushed the account books toward him. "Half goes to the army's stores, and half is used to supply salt to the people."

He thought I was living it up on the frontier, then he saw milk tea shops, soap workshops, glass lamps, and swift horses delivering hot porridge.

The eunuch stubbornly scoffed, "Using fast horses to deliver food too? Absurd."

That very night, the steppe vanguard launched a sneak attack. The fast horses weren't delivering hot cakes, but arrows, medicine packs, and military provisions.

At last, my elder brother's expression changed. "Ninth Brother, what exactly have you been hiding on the Northern Frontier?"

I pointed to the row of lights blazing atop the city wall. "Don't get too close. It'll dazzle you in a moment."