Wealth is only as durable as the people who surround it. Valluvar has spent the preceding chapters building the machinery of governance — council, fortification, army — and now, without ceremony, he names the one force that holds all of it together: kinship. Not kinship as bloodline, and not kinship as sentiment, but kinship as strategic infrastructure. The chapter opens by defining what a kinsman actually is — someone who celebrates the old bond even after the fortune is gone — and then makes a ruthless argument: a rich man without kin is a lake without banks, his wealth draining into nothing. From there, Valluvar constructs the mechanics of how kinship is built, maintained, lost, and recovered. He is writing a manual for rulers, and his central insight is unsettling: you do not keep people close by being powerful. You keep them close by being generous, gentle, and discerning. The chapter ends with the hardest political problem of all — what to do when those who left come back.