A moment later, a voice sounded from within the tent again:

"My son, you may withdraw. I wish to see the Marquis Zhonglie."

"Yes! I obey!"

The Second Prince looked as if he’d been granted amnesty. He and his lackeys beat a hasty retreat, and his retreating figure even stumbled, nearly causing him to fall.

Once the Second Prince had departed,

another voice called from within. "The Marquis Zhonglie is summoned to the tent for an audience with the Emperor!"

Zheng Xiu stepped into the military tent and immediately frowned. A pungent, unpleasant scent of herbal medicine wafted from within.

An old man in a Dragon Robe sat on a soft couch. His complexion was ashen, but his eyes were sharp and piercing.

He was the Emperor of Daqian, Venerable Wei Yang, who reigned as Emperor Zun’an.

Inside the tent, besides the old Emperor, there were two Palace Maids, two Generals, and an Imperial Physician.

The two Generals stepped forward to search him.

"All of you, leave."

The old Emperor waved his hand, dismissing the others. He wished to meet with Zheng Xiu alone.

Zheng Xiu was still trying to puzzle out the true meaning behind the old Emperor’s journey.

In his entire life, he had met this old Emperor a total of three times.

The first was in the great hall, when he was granted the title of Marquis Zhonglie in front of the entire court after they received news of Zheng Haoran’s death.

The second was on the tenth anniversary of Zheng Haoran’s death in service to the nation, while Zheng Xiu was visiting his grave.

The third was at the grand opening of Heaven on Earth, when the Emperor visited in disguise to offer his congratulations in secret.

Three times in total.

This was the fourth.

Compared to their last meeting, Venerable Wei Yang’s face was dark and sallow, his hair was sparse, and his body was emaciated. The Majestic Wind of his prime was long gone.

"I... do not have much time left."

When only Zheng Xiu and Venerable Wei Yang remained in the tent, the old Emperor’s first words were terribly inauspicious.

Zheng Xiu was about to ask something along the lines of, ’Do you have any unfulfilled wishes? Or perhaps you need the Zheng Family’s help building the imperial mausoleum?’ But he had only uttered a single word, "Then—" when Old Wei seemed to summon all his strength just to wave a hand, signaling for him to stop talking.

Old Wei was very weak.

No wonder his speech had been so clipped and concise.

It took so much effort just to speak; no wonder he was so sure his days were numbered.

WHEEZE... WHEEZE... WHEEZE...

Old Wei took a deep breath.

"Those three... it was your people who killed them."

Zheng Xiu’s expression shifted, but he didn’t refute it.

Because Old Wei had spoken with certainty. It was a statement, not a question.

"Salt, iron, commerce... My second son has a poor temperament, but he acts like lightning and strikes decisively. I have known this about his character for twenty years."

"My eldest is calm and far-sighted. He plans his every move, but he’s overly cautious and always loses the initiative."

"My third son... heh. He seems cowardly, but he is, in fact, the one who hides the most."

"As long as I draw breath, my eldest and my third wouldn’t dare make a move against you. But my second son couldn’t contain himself and provoked you first."

"If their temperaments and methods were combined into a single man, he could have been the greatest emperor in history and extended Daqian’s golden age for another century. But Heaven is unjust; it split those qualities among three different men."

Though Old Wei’s breathing was shallow, his piercing eyes held the unique authority of a true ruler as he looked Zheng Xiu in the eye.

This was less a conversation and more a final declaration Old Wei needed to make to Zheng Xiu.

"The Flower Monk, Qing Shisan. The Thousand-Handed Poison Lady, Ji Hong’ou. The Blood-Handed Scholar, Pei Gaoya. I never thought that after going to such lengths to leave the Jianghu, they would be drawn into its disputes once more."

"Marquis Zhonglie, you carry a great deal of weight."

Zheng Xiu smiled, a hint of bashfulness in his expression.

"All these years, with my secret protection, you have finally made the Zheng Family powerful. And yet, you went into business! Business! If General Zheng knew of this in the afterlife, he’d be so furious he’d crawl right out of his grave... HAHAHAHA—COUGH COUGH COUGH!! COUGH COUGH COUGH!"

The thought struck Old Wei as so funny that he burst out laughing, but the exertion triggered a violent coughing fit.

After the coughing subsided, Old Wei continued where he left off, "He’d crawl out and chew you out for not becoming a court official or charging across the battlefield!"

Zheng Xiu clasped his hands. "Holy Emperor, this Marquis Zhonglie is idle by nature, yet proud. I dislike being constrained and cannot stand being wronged. I fear I would only bring shame to my late father’s name."

"Heh. And yet, over these years," Old Wei said, "whenever there was a drought or a flood, it was you who provided disaster relief. When the national treasury was empty, it was you who voluntarily paid more taxes. And it was you who took in that band of Jianghu Knights, keeping them peaceful and out of trouble. The realm has been at peace for these past twenty years, and for that, the Zheng Family deserves its share of the credit! General Zheng would have no regrets."

He was seized by another violent coughing fit. He reached for a silk handkerchief on the table, but his hand trembled so much that he couldn’t grasp it, even after several attempts.

Zheng Xiu couldn’t watch any longer. He stepped forward to steady the Emperor, pressing the silk handkerchief to Old Wei’s mouth.

The handkerchief was instantly stained with fresh blood.

Zheng Xiu started to worry.

He was worried Old Wei might drop dead right here, right now.

He and Old Wei were alone in the tent. If the Emperor died now, he, Zheng Xiu, would never be able to explain it. ’I’d be completely screwed.’

"I won’t die... just yet." Old Wei waved his hand dismissively, having seen through Zheng Xiu’s concerns. He forced a smile. "But do you have any idea how much power those Odd People you’ve gathered truly represent? If my three worthless sons were to find out, they would never tolerate your existence."

Zheng Xiu nodded.

"No matter. Come, I have three questions for you, and you will answer them." Old Wei gripped Zheng Xiu’s shoulder. With a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth, he forced a smile onto his ashen face. "My first question: of my three sons, who do you favor most?"

The first question.

’This is a loaded question,’ Zheng Xiu thought. ’The kind that could get me killed.’

As the saying goes, attending a ruler is like attending a tiger. Zheng Xiu wasn’t arrogant enough to believe his father’s history with the Emperor allowed him to treat Old Wei like family.

If he answered this question poorly...

Zheng Xiu’s eyes glinted, and he replied, "Though the three Princes have their own strengths and weaknesses, they are all dragons among men, each having inherited the Holy Emperor’s majestic bearing. In my opinion... ahem... all of your sons have the makings of a Great Emperor."

Old Wei was taken aback for a moment, then burst into a fit of laughter that devolved into more coughing. "After all these years, how is it you’ve learned the slippery tongue of a crooked merchant?"

’A conscientious philanthropist,’ Master Zheng corrected silently in his mind. ’A conscientious philanthropist.’

Seeing that Zheng Xiu stubbornly refused to answer the deadly question, Old Wei didn’t press the issue. He moved on. "My second question: do you still harbor doubts about General Zheng’s death?"

The second question.

Zheng Xiu froze. He hadn’t dared to ask about it for so many years, yet he never expected Old Wei to bring it up himself on his deathbed.

Back then, during the expedition against the Northern Barbarians, Old Wei had personally led the army alongside Father Zheng.

In fact, this was the part of the story that even Jiang Gaoyi dared not speak of.

The ones who returned alive weren’t just the maddened army strategist, but also Old Wei.

But the world chose to remain silent about this, speaking only of the strategist who returned alive only to swiftly go mad, while ignoring the fact that the Emperor of Daqian had been there too.

Old Wei sighed softly. "That year... I was the one who fled the battle. It was General Zheng, on the banks of the Fenjian River, who knocked me unconscious with a single punch and put me on a carriage heading home. That... is the truth I have kept hidden in my heart all this time."

Zheng Xiu’s mouth fell open.

"You have every right to hate me. That year, I was the one who failed General Zheng."

Zheng Xiu was silent for a moment, then shook his head. "Life and death are decided by fate; wealth and honor are granted by Heaven. My father dying on the battlefield and bringing glory to our ancestors—that was his destiny. Me, Zheng Xiu, building a fortune from nothing to enjoy wealth and luxury—that is also my destiny. If that was his final wish, then there is no one to blame."

"Good." Old Wei nodded, a weight seemingly lifted from him. "Then... I will ask you my final question."

The withered arm Old Wei had on Zheng Xiu’s shoulder suddenly tightened its grip.

His gleaming eyes drew close to Zheng Xiu’s face, his features twisting into something ferocious as he posed the third question of the Emperor:

"My days are numbered. I can say with confidence that I have treated your Zheng Family well over the years."

"Today, I want to hear one thing, and it must be the absolute truth from the bottom of your heart!"

Zheng Xiu thumped his chest. "Of course! Every word from Xiaozheng comes from the heart!"

Old Wei laughed heartily. "A fine promise! ’Every word from the heart’!"

As he spoke, Old Wei’s expression shifted, his voice dropping to a low growl. "But your Zheng Family..."

The dying Emperor stared into Zheng Xiu’s eyes, his own pupils burning with an irrepressible hunger.

"You truly don’t possess the Immortality Secret Technique?"