Power seems to be the source of everything; where it exists, all else is drawn to it.
Master Situ Chunsheng sat in his armchair, a maidservant fanning him from the side, a string of prayer beads turning continuously in his hand.
In this city, some were terrified, while others were serene and self-satisfied, as if they had everything under control.
Obviously, Master Situ Chunsheng counted himself among the latter.
At his side, his eldest son, Situ Youcheng, was peeling an orange for him.
"Father, my subordinates report that His Majesty has left the palace and the city. He's gone to the military camp to rally the troops and recruit soldiers."
"Heh." Situ Chunsheng scoffed. "Our Majesty hasn't admitted defeat yet, it seems."
Situ Youcheng replied, "But has it truly come to the point of complete surrender?"
