When Prince Jingnan wants to elevate someone, that person is bound to be grateful and devoted, willing to risk everything to strive, to fight, to struggle, to endeavor.
It will never be like the military council from days past,
standing at the back of the crowd, eyes fixed intently on the sand table, as if he were not present in the King's Tent at all.
After a long time,
Tian Wujing rose from his command seat,
and slowly walked down.
Accompanying Tian Wujing's steps was a formidable aura.
Lord Zheng took a deep breath, lowered his head, and kneeled on one knee there until those boots appeared in his low-hanging vision.
"Zheng Fan."
"Your humble servant... is present."
At that moment,
a scene suddenly flashed in Lord Zheng's mind,
where Tian Wujing kicked directly, bursting the head of a reckless, foolish, aimless hindrance like himself.
Lord Zheng knew,
if Tian Wujing wanted to do this,
even Mo Wan,
couldn't save him at all,
most likely, would burst along with him.
