He was unarmed, with only white socks on his feet, his natural aura was already at a disadvantage.
But his demeanor was composed, he first bowed to the Son of Heaven, then to Jiang Wang, earnestly saying: "I, a commoner, have always respected the military merits of the Marquis. Today's words are a trial, if there are errors, please do not be merciful, but reprimand me directly. If that does not vent your anger, even if blood splashes three steps, I, too, have no complaint."
Facing this famous scholar who had repeatedly berated him severely, Jiang Wang raised an eyebrow slightly: "Please speak."
Er Fengming straightened up, his wide sleeves fluttering aside, which exuded a free-spirited aura of a scholar: "May I ask the Marquis, between national hatred and personal vendetta, which is of lesser or greater weight?"
