Jing Hengbo stood beneath Meng City’s walls, looking up at the deep green banner with the character “Meng” flying atop the walls, her expression complex.
At this moment, she wasn’t thinking about the majesty of the royal city or the prosperity of the nation, but about fate.
Fate arranged things so she could never act according to her heart’s desire.
Five days ago, full of joy and anticipation, she’d packed her luggage and finally persuaded Gong Yin to return with her to his ancestral lands. This journey held great significance for her—she’d always felt it would be the true beginning of drawing close to him without facing rejection, the marker of finally letting go of everything together, the start of her peaceful reclusive life. Even if there were still troubles ahead, at least they would have taken this step.
Yet this step, lifted in mid-air, ultimately couldn’t come down.
She smiled self-deprecatingly, thinking perhaps it was just like this—until all Great Wilderness affairs were resolved, heaven wouldn’t fulfill her wishes.
She hesitated before the gate, and everyone quietly accompanied her—all of them, including her subordinates, the Dragon family disciples, the Meng Kingdom palace guards who’d accompanied her to the royal city, and the Meng Kingdom officials who’d specially come to receive her.
This was the first time since her “Royal Terminator” reputation spread that she’d been formally received by royalty without rejection.
Only this reception still carried strange undertones. Many people came with respectful ceremony and high status—the foremost was the Ceremonial Department’s Minister—but they hadn’t prepared ceremonies for receiving a queen, nor used royal regalia. The opposing Minister was extremely respectful in his etiquette, yet consistently addressed her as “Your Highness.”
Yes, her current identity was a certain princess of Ji Kingdom. Meng and Ji kingdoms were relatively friendly, so Ji Kingdom’s princess represented Ji Kingdom’s queen in coming to celebrate Meng Kingdom’s great king’s fiftieth birthday half a month hence.
This was naturally her agreement, because she couldn’t enter Meng City as a queen—that would arouse unnecessary vigilance from certain people.
Jing Hengbo secretly sighed, thinking Great Wilderness royal families were becoming increasingly absurd. A great king in his own kingdom’s capital couldn’t openly receive his own queen, having to conceal identities and act secretly—how precarious must this royal power be?
But she couldn’t refuse to agree. That day in Puyang’s western district, she’d received secret intelligence that Meng Hu had fallen into a trap, captured by Meng Kingdom’s Prince Ping through scheming, his life and death now unknown.
Prince Ping—one of Meng Kingdom’s old king’s two valued adult sons. Originally also a virtuous prince praised by all in court, but in this world, those who most resembled saints were often the greatest villains.
After another adult prince, Prince Li, mysteriously died suddenly, Prince Ping became the old king’s appropriately-aged son with both reputation and strength sufficient to inherit the throne. Very conveniently, he controlled the Yao Mountain Army stationed closest to Meng City, his maternal uncle controlled Meng City’s Flying Horse Army, and the Black Mountain Division Army that had originally been in Prince Li’s hands to specifically balance Prince Ping had been taken from the capital region when Prince Li toured the borders. After Prince Li’s death, this army had garrisoned Puyang under the banner of avenging Prince Li, committing various outrageous acts. Not knowing what leverage had been found against them, they were now reportedly also gravitating toward Prince Ping.
In other words, the major armies around Meng City would soon all belong to Prince Ping—how could the old king sleep peacefully?
This was intelligence Doctor Sun had worriedly provided her on the road. For this reason, Doctor Sun begged her and her subordinates to restrain themselves, change disguises, lest Prince Ping discover them too early and conflicts arise outside Meng City, preventing entry.
Jing Hengbo agreed—anyway, she was mostly traveling incognito on this journey. She had no intention of getting involved in royal succession struggles again, but couldn’t fail to rescue Meng Hu.
Only her heart remained troubled. At this moment, looking at Meng City’s gates and thinking that if not for this mess, she might already be walking mountain paths with Gong Yin, she couldn’t help but snort angrily.
Before her snort ended, someone suddenly shrilled: “Who are those people ahead blocking the road for so long!”
Jing Hengbo was startled and turned back, only realizing their group—with many guards and many receiving officials—had all stopped because of her daydreaming, blocking the gate entrance. People and carriages entering and exiting had already formed long lines. Many showed dissatisfied expressions, but because their group clearly had noble status, they all looked angry but dared not speak.
She immediately felt apologetic and quickly moved her horse to clear the road. Her horse had just stepped when commotion arose behind—a group forcibly pushed through, extremely arrogant and domineering. Qi Sha standing at the back raised his eyebrows, squinted his eyes, and twisted his mouth with a very displeased smile.
Jing Hengbo felt herself at fault and didn’t want to cause trouble at the city gates. Reportedly Prince Ping’s influence was quite large recently, with experts both open and hidden watching Meng City inside and out day and night—why be too conspicuous and fall into others’ eyes? She gestured to Qi Sha, indicating they should yield.
That group pushed through—it was a rather luxurious soft sedan with several maids and guards protectively surrounding it, all looking quite arrogant. Many surrounding people recognized it, whispering: “Isn’t this the Ji family’s sedan? Is the Ji family’s young miss inside?”
“Stay away,” someone said. “The Ji family is hard to provoke, and now they have Prince Ping’s backing. There’ll probably be trouble at this gate today.”
Doctor Sun quietly whispered in Jing Hengbo’s ear: “Miss Ji is Prince Ping’s cousin. Her aunt was the former queen, her father is Prince Ping’s maternal uncle and also Meng City Flying Horse Army’s great general. Extremely favored by both the great general and His Highness.”
Jing Hengbo hummed acknowledgment, thinking was it really such a coincidence that someone connected to Prince Ping appeared at this gate now?
That group pushed through, the leading household guards constantly scanning Jing Hengbo’s group with cold, vigilant eyes.
These people originally had provocative expressions, but seeing Jing Hengbo’s people truly yielding roadside, they had nowhere to create trouble and could only pass with grim faces.
It seemed this group would pass by.
Doctor Sun and the Ceremonial officials quietly breathed sighs of relief.
But the sedan curtain suddenly lifted as it passed beside Yong Xue.
No face was visible, only a snow-white hand with bright red nail polish like blood about to drip. Whether that hand was too pale or the polish too vivid, the overly stark color contrast made people feel uneasy, generating an inexplicably sinister atmosphere.
That hand pointed at Feifei in Yong Xue’s arms, then a voice from the sedan said: “This cat is nice.”
The voice was very young—just a girl’s voice—but the tone was particularly flat, with slight irritation and arrogance underneath, as if whatever she wanted, the whole world should kneel and offer it up.
Clearly her household guards thought so too. A middle-aged man immediately said: “Yes.”
Then he threw a silver ingot into Yong Xue’s arms, pointing at Feifei: “Your cat is nice—my young miss is buying it. No need to thank us for the reward, lest you pollute my young miss’s aura.”
Jing Hengbo frowned.
Not because they were forcibly buying Feifei, but because she saw that silver ingot wasn’t small, and the guard had used internal force—the silver whistled toward Yong Xue’s face. If Yong Xue’s reaction was slightly slow, this silver could knock out all her teeth.
Was this giving money or looking for trouble?
The silver whistled out, the guard’s eyes showing cruel amusement, that pale hand lifting the curtain remaining motionless.
A hand lightly and skillfully reached out, spreading flat with a “smack” as the silver fell into his palm without even trembling.
Yi Qi stood beside Yong Xue, smiling as he weighed the silver: “Twenty taels for a cat—generous!”
“Naturally,” that guard said arrogantly. “Meng City’s Ji Manor, a hundred-year aristocratic family—when have we ever done anything like using power to bully people or force purchases?”
People in Jing Hengbo’s group all smiled slightly—they’d seen plenty of these shameless people who turned right and wrong upside down, too lazy even to mock.
“Catch.” Yi Qi readily threw Feifei over. The guard caught her first, and Feifei’s big tail affectionately swept across his face—who knows what poison gas bomb she released, turning the guard’s face vegetable green.
Feifei’s fur color had already changed, dyed golden yellow, truly looking like an ordinary cat. Though the Queen’s pets rarely appeared before the world, inevitably some people had seen them along the way. To prevent identity exposure, even pets were disguised—like Er Gouzi, now covered in colorful bird feathers pretending to be a kingfisher, carried by Tian Qi and entering the city slightly later.
That Miss Ji had wanted Feifei but showed no joy, nor had Feifei put in her sedan. She seemed somewhat surprised and disappointed by these people’s reaction. Her tone also became lazier as she coldly laughed: “At least you know your place… Let’s go.”
The last sentence was directed at the guards. The guard acknowledged, and the group continued forward. Doctor Sun breathed another sigh of relief.
As the sedan passed Jing Hengbo’s side, the curtain suddenly lifted again.
That pale hand with bright red nail polish extended again. Doctor Sun’s face changed.
This finger pointed directly at Gong Yin beside Jing Hengbo, her voice gaining several degrees of instability: “This person… is a spy! Take him back to the manor for thorough investigation!”
The guard was startled, glanced at Gong Yin, but before he could speak, Jing Hengbo had already laughed delightfully: “Miss Ji, this is a person, not a cat.”
That finger remained pointing straight, her voice gaining several degrees of viciousness: “Among the spies who infiltrated the Flying Horse Army a few days ago, one looked very much like this person!”
“Miss Ji,” the Ceremonial Minister could no longer remain silent, hurriedly stepping forward: “You mustn’t be discourteous—this is the great king’s honored guest!”
That finger flicked, the curtain moved, and Miss Ji seemed only now to notice the court officials here, saying in surprise: “Ah, so it’s Minister Wei! Why is Minister Wei here today, still protecting this spy who was observing our army?”
Minister Wei’s face was iron blue as he said coldly: “Miss Ji, do you want our nation to be shamed before distinguished guests who’ve traveled far from other countries? This is Ji Kingdom’s Third Princess, representing Ji Kingdom’s queen to congratulate the great king on his birthday. She just arrived at Meng City—how could those around her go spy on your Flying Horse Army’s military intelligence?”
Jing Hengbo said with a smile: “The phrase ‘those around her’ is excellently used—indeed, those around me. This person is this palace’s prince consort.” She also pointed toward the sedan, saying mockingly: “Miss Ji, your words are truly worrying. You’re saying my Ji Kingdom’s prince consort came to spy on your Meng Kingdom Flying Horse Army’s military intelligence?”
Faint snickering sounds arose from all sides, but Miss Ji either didn’t understand or was stubbornly persistent, saying coldly: “Why couldn’t he? So what if you’re Ji Kingdom’s princess? So what if he’s a princess consort? You’re just a group of crude, uncouth highland women calling yourselves kings behind closed doors in backwater places. I heard you people ride camels and sheep, chew red fruit until your mouths look like bloody maws? Disgusting to even think about. Your barbaric women’s nation is inherently lowly—a prince consort might not even match the nobility of household guards in my manor. Him coveting our Meng City’s prosperity and secretly infiltrating our army to gather intelligence—what’s impossible about that?”
“Sigh,” Jing Hengbo murmured, “if Ji Wen were here, she’d definitely be very angry… Actually, I’m getting a bit angry too… Why are there so many people seeking death in this world?”
“What did you say?” Miss Ji hadn’t heard clearly and pressed for an answer.
Before Jing Hengbo could answer, Gong Yin suddenly turned and glanced at Miss Ji.
Just one glance, and Miss Ji’s hand suddenly trembled. Then she coldly laughed and was about to lower the curtain.
Her reaction was fairly quick, but unfortunately always too slow compared to certain people.
Gong Yin raised his hand, and suddenly there was a person in it.
A young girl wearing luxurious palace-style silk dress, with straight hair, a face white as frost, but mouth and hands red as blood.
Her face was overly flat, yet inappropriately caked with extremely thick powder for her age, ghastly white all over, making her mouth look even more bizarre—like a midnight blood-drinking, flesh-eating female demon.
Meng Kingdom officials looked bewilderedly at the young girl hanging from Gong Yin’s hand, then bewilderedly at the now-empty sedan, finally realizing the Miss Ji who’d been acting arrogant in the sedan was now gripped in the “prince consort’s” hand.
Before Meng Kingdom officials could decide whether to dissuade or rebuke, those household guards had just angrily shouted and charged forward, that suddenly repositioned Miss Ji was still in a daze, when Gong Yin was already holding her before Jing Hengbo, seriously comparing.
This action was even stranger, leaving everyone more dumbfounded.
Then Gong Yin said: “Bloody maw?”
Surrounding people tittered, looking at Miss Ji’s blood-red, rather wide mouth, then at Jing Hengbo’s flower-like delicate red lips.
Only now did Miss Ji react. Seeing herself suspended in air under countless staring eyes, humiliation flooded in like a tide as she shrilly screamed: “Put me down! You lowborn dare—”
She lifted her leg to kick Gong Yin while suspended, silk dress flying, but besides making her posture uglier, she couldn’t get within a foot of Gong Yin.
Gong Yin held her collar with one finger, gripping her far away. Though his face showed no expression, his posture was full of disgust as he said: “Crude and uncouth?”
Everyone looked at the elegantly smiling Jing Hengbo, then at the disheveled Miss Ji, all sighing and shaking their heads.
“Save me! Save me!” Miss Ji shrieked in Gong Yin’s grip. Now her eyes finally showed fear, not daring to speak harshly, desperately calling for rescue from the guards. But the guards were paralyzed with conflicting concerns, not daring to approach. Those previously arrogant guards could only cast pleading looks toward the Meng Kingdom court officials, hoping they’d intervene.
“Oh my, this old man suddenly has stomach pain,” the Ceremonial Minister said with a pained expression to his deputy.
“Perhaps this morning’s tofu pudding at the office wasn’t good—this subordinate also feels uncomfortable,” the deputy reacted quickly, clutching his stomach.
“The gate is windy—several elderly officials feeling unwell shouldn’t catch more wind.” A group of young attendants and clerks immediately came forward to support the old fellows inside. The Meng Kingdom officials at the gate immediately cleared out.
“Help! Help! You dare harm people at the city gate…” Miss Ji’s voice was shrill as she desperately kicked at air.
“If this is Meng Kingdom’s nobility and beauty,” Gong Yin’s single light sentence covered her voice, “then let more people admire it.”
After speaking, he raised his hand.
The person in his hand disappeared again.
Everyone followed the wind trail sound, looking up bewilderedly, then saw the colorful figure hanging high on the city wall flagpole.
Gong Yin raised his hand, and Chun Shui handed over a snow-white silk handkerchief. Gong Yin meticulously wiped the fingers that had just gripped Miss Ji’s collar.
Jing Hengbo watched with a smile—she most loved watching Gong Yin teach people lessons. His manner seemed rather pretentious, but he did it most naturally, with an innate nobility where even moving a finger was condescending.
“Why bother?” She happily watched the young girl shrieking and swaying like a flag above, eyes curved like crescents. “Hanging so high is quite unsightly, though she is indeed extremely ugly.”
Gong Yin flicked his fingers, the handkerchief floating away with the wind. From the corner of her eye, Jing Hengbo saw two watching girls secretly competing to grab it, colliding with each other.
Then she heard Gong Yin’s voice clearly and firmly declare: “My lady’s beauty—how can it be defiled?”
This sentence was heard clearly by not only her, but everyone.
The tone was calm, yet like a proclamation.
Jing Hengbo was slightly stunned, her lips slowly curving upward. A smile ignited from the depths of her eyes, spreading until in moments, radiant light blazed forth.
…
While Jing Hengbo was having conflicts with people at the city gate, Meng Hu was inside Prince Ping’s mansion in the city’s Daming Ward.
His face was grave as water, standing by the window with his back to the man behind him who talked endlessly, never saying a word.
That man kept drinking water, his lips cracked and dry with white foam at the corners of his mouth—clearly he’d been talking for a long time.
But these words seemed to have no effect, because Meng Hu had never once turned around from beginning to end.
The man talked for ages, looked at the sky, and shook his head in frustration—including himself, three groups of persuaders had come, talking until their lips were scorched and tongues parched, but the person before them was like iron wood nailed to the ground—no reaction, no turning back, as if wanting to use this posture to refuse forever.
He could only sigh finally, saying helplessly: “Grand Commander, those who understand the times are outstanding. After all, we’re not asking you to sacrifice anything—just write a letter to your old master…” Looking at that unmovable back, he ultimately shook his head and slowly walked out.
After hearing the persuader leave, Meng Hu vaguely heard large groups of footsteps approaching and slowly gave a cold laugh.
Prince Ping truly had good calculations.
Wanting him to write to the old master saying he’d been captured, then making the old master throw caution to the wind, forced to abandon his lifelong loyal stance toward royalty and surrender to Prince Ping, stirring up bloody succession chaos in Meng Kingdom, then either being killed when the cunning rabbit dies or being pointed at and cursed as a traitorous minister by the people?
The Meng family was a close royal branch, loyal to royalty for years, holding military power for ages. Even if they no longer controlled armies, the old master’s former subordinates and disciples were spread throughout Meng Kingdom’s military. Just one word from him would ensure Prince Ping’s usurpation faced no external border army constraints, gaining military acquiescence and support.
So Prince Ping had taken such great pains to lure him into the trap, yet treated him as an honored guest—what he wanted was this one word of submission, wanting to use his safety to coerce his family.
Meng Hu gave another cold laugh.
He sat by the window, watching the sun gradually slant west, watching manor guards come and go, watching daylight gradually darken. Prince Ping’s mansion seemed to have given up persuading him—no strategists had come today.
But this made him frown deeply.
Having followed Gong Yin for years, though not directly participating in government affairs, he understood very clearly those methods of court power struggles.
Prince Ping having lured him into the net would never easily give up. If he could make him write a letter seeking help himself, that would be best, but he should also be psychologically prepared for his refusal.
Actually, as long as he, Meng Hu, was here at Prince Ping’s place, as long as his crime of “charging formations and destroying gates” became established through manipulation, whether this letter was written or not, the Meng family had already fallen into a passive position.
Meng Hu slowly raised his gaze toward the gradually darkening sky. The sky was dusky, with faint starlight appearing—like that well he’d seen when he first returned to Meng Kingdom, deep, dark, with rippling faint light, shattering the pale face of a girl about to throw herself into the well.
The world was like the firmament, covering how much hidden darkness.
His hands quietly, tightly pressed on the desk. He didn’t know how long passed before two clear palm prints were left on the desktop.
They were imprints, and also resolve.
To avoid being coerced, there was only one method.
Death.
…
Because she was in a good mood, Jing Hengbo wore a smile throughout her journey into the palace. Even though Chun Shui rolled her eyes the whole way, she didn’t mind.
Properly speaking, foreign envoys would first stay in guest quarters with no reason for immediate audience. But wanting to meet always had reasons. Jing Hengbo entered the palace under the pretext of needing to immediately present Ji Kingdom’s mysterious gift to the great king. Of course, the gorgeous gold-inlaid, jade-embedded box carried by the eunuch beside her contained a handful of sunflower seeds.
Weren’t Her Majesty the Queen’s sunflower seeds mysterious and important gifts?
Entering the palace, Jing Hengbo had already sensed the abnormal atmosphere here. The guiding eunuch seemed to keep his eyes straight ahead but kept secretly glancing at the box in her hands. The palace guards’ general had almost demanded the box be opened, only desisting reluctantly after being rebuked by the Ceremonial Minister.
Jing Hengbo only sighed inwardly, thinking the old king was truly miserable—even the royal palace seemed controlled by others, making her, a queen, sneak around when entering the city.
After entering the great hall, her first sight was a towering green hat reaching the clouds. Jing Hengbo craned her head desperately upward but still couldn’t find the hat’s top. She worried that when the old king stood up, the hat would pierce through the hall’s roof, and also worried that if the hat was bumped by something, it might break the old king’s neck.
Just for this damned hat, she felt the position of Meng Kingdom’s great king was better not held.
Seeing Meng Kingdom’s great king at first glance, she felt this great king should continue—because anyway, this fellow was covered in age spots with dark circles under his eyes, not far from death, so he should at least die peacefully in this position.
But she remembered Meng Kingdom’s great king’s age shouldn’t have reached this degree—how had he become so frail?
No one else was in the hall, the doors were already closed. Meng Kingdom’s great king came down from the dais supported by Doctor Sun, tremblingly bowing to her, then to Gong Yin, Yélu Qi, and Pei Shu—apparently his homework was well done.
Before the old king descended the dais, Jing Hengbo had stood slightly askew—she was very afraid that green tall hat would fall and hit her head when the old king bowed.
Fortunately it didn’t, only the old king couldn’t straighten up after bowing, the hat landing with a “smack” on Pei Shu’s head. When Pei Shu lifted the hat while helping the old king up, his face was the same color as the hat.
Seeing everyone’s expressions, Meng Kingdom’s great king was also very direct, his first sentence being: “This king is still half a month short of fifty.”
Jing Hengbo nodded—she’d entered Meng City under the pretext of celebrating his fiftieth birthday, but now he looked eighty.
Perhaps time or life and death were too urgent—Meng Kingdom’s great king became more direct with each sentence.
“This king sired a pile of good sons. In twenty-three years of rule, sons rebelled three times, three died suddenly, three were assassinated, two died in swaddling clothes. Half a month ago there remained eleven daughters and three sons—now only two sons remain. The youngest son is only three.”
Jing Hengbo calculated the years and months, expressing admiration for the old king’s fertility.
“This king’s sons—not all harbored treacherous hearts coveting the throne, but good children, sons beloved by court ministers, died faster and earlier.”
“Now, perhaps it’s this king’s turn.”
Jing Hengbo smiled as she looked at him, saying leisurely: “Does the great king hope We help you terminate whose royal fortune? Generally We克 curse whoever’s currently in power.”
“Then naturally not this king.” Meng Kingdom’s great king laughed, wrinkles covering his face like layers of clouds drooping down, appearing even more aged. “Thanks to good sons, this king is now nearly a figurehead. Otherwise why would I need to petition before Your Majesty’s presence?”
Doctor Sun said quietly: “The flower this subject picked was to help the great king detoxify. The great king was poisoned—still unknown who administered it. This poison is years deep, administered over ten years ago.”
Jing Hengbo shook her head, feeling raising sons to this result was truly pitiful.
Or perhaps all royal families were like this—raising sons like raising venomous insects, putting them in competitive, grasping environments from childhood, facing the world’s most tempting power and desire, survival of the fittest, strong devouring weak, finally raising a group of profit-obsessed, unscrupulous descendants—also called reaping what one sowed.
“Actually discovered early, but never knew who it was. Now with Meng He dead, the answer is obvious.” The old king’s smile was bitter. “Surely it couldn’t be my three-year-old youngest son.”
Thinking of Prince Ping’s reputation she’d heard, this person had once been called a virtuous prince with praise for loyalty, filial piety, benevolence and righteousness—how could the wild, brutal Prince Li Meng He compare? Yes, only by playing the hypocrite to the extreme could he deceive the old king for so many years, being usurped by him, infiltrated by him, controlled by him. When finally awakening to which evil wolf was beside him, it was already too late.
“So, what does the great king need Us to do?”
Meng Kingdom’s great king turned his head. Doctor Sun retrieved a jade box from a hidden compartment under the imperial desk and respectfully presented it.
Jing Hengbo reached to take it when three hands simultaneously extended, then Yélu Qi smiled slightly and withdrew, Pei Shu angrily huffed and jerked his hand away, while Gong Yin calmly opened the lid, inviting Jing Hengbo to observe together.
Such things often happened many times on the road—Jing Hengbo was long accustomed. Observers weren’t necessarily—Doctor Sun sniffed, glanced at these three men famous throughout the Great Wilderness, thinking that making three excellent, proud men who loved her coexist so peacefully showed Her Majesty the Queen had great skill managing her inner palace. If the great king could learn half of this, he wouldn’t have had so many wives and children die.
Talent—indeed, anyone who could become queen was talented! Capable of governing the world in peace, settling the nation in war, even taking royal husbands without conflict or strife, managing harmony.
How could Jing Hengbo know people’s first admiration for her was for this reason? She glanced at the brocade-covered, thick memorial already written in the box. This was an alliance treaty, more accurately a pledge of allegiance. In black and white, it clearly stated Meng Kingdom’s royalty eternally swore loyalty to Her Majesty the Queen, making enormous concessions and submissions to Di Ge regarding economics, court systems, and even military establishment.
The conditions were beyond discussion—even more humble and yielding than Jing Hengbo had imagined, almost surrendering half of Meng Kingdom’s internal affairs, even proposing that henceforth Meng Kingdom’s royalty and generals about to control armies would first visit Di Ge to pay respects and study, the civil official system would report to Di Ge every three years and accept Di Ge’s appointment and transfer of Meng Kingdom’s third-rank and above officials.
Jing Hengbo had toured the Great Wilderness, where royalty withered wherever she went, reaching allegiance agreements with most royal families and gaining considerable benefits and power. It could be said she’d used an unprecedented conquest method that avoided war’s massive damage to national strength while maximally reshaping the scattered Great Wilderness polity, concentrating power toward Di Ge. But precisely because this method was gentle and didn’t touch fundamentals, her control over six nations and eight tribes still had variables and couldn’t achieve complete unification in the short term. The six nations and eight tribes were too scattered, independent too long. Trying to remove all royal foundations would only provoke desperate resistance. Each nation, considering self-interest and rule, always bargained during allegiance processes, trying to maintain their royal families’ ruling power, absolutely unwilling to release military and political control. However, today Meng Kingdom’s pledge of allegiance fundamentally touched royal power, surrendering military and political authority, truly joining Di Ge’s ranks.
Once generals were trained by Di Ge and officials appointed by Di Ge, Meng Kingdom’s royalty would actually exist in name only, no different from Di Ge’s attached districts.
This was what Jing Hengbo most wanted to see and what Gong Yin had always wanted to do, yet it was hard to find a breakthrough. Now Meng Kingdom had actively opened its embrace with a take-what-you-want attitude—Jing Hengbo was delighted. Starting well, there would be precedent to follow afterward. Great Wilderness unification might not be just a dream.
“How can the great king bear to part with this?” Jing Hengbo asked, weighing the pledge.
“If this king is harmed by others, naturally I cannot let my rebellious son succeed. If this king wins, I won’t live much longer either. My only young son inheriting the throne at three—how can he fight surrounding wolf-like nations and scheming veteran ministers? Better to hand it to Di Ge—at least ensuring his lifelong peace and Meng Kingdom people’s safety.”
Jing Hengbo nodded slightly—though the old king was muddled raising sons, at crucial moments he was still clear-headed.
If the position was usurped, he’d leave the usurping rebel son something disgusting as revenge; if not usurped, with few trustworthy ministers remaining, a three-year-old child couldn’t support this green-hatted kingdom—better to become a peaceful duke, enjoying life under Di Ge’s protection. At least Meng family’s throne could continue indefinitely without being swallowed by surrounding nations and tribes.
The pledge already bore Meng Kingdom’s great king’s imperial seal. Jing Hengbo unceremoniously immediately took out her personal seal and stamped it.
“So, what does the great king need Us to do?”
Asking the second time, her tone was much more sincere. Having received such a great gift voluntarily offered, the required price was imaginable.
Meng Kingdom’s old king’s green tall hat trembled slightly in the hall, his voice also trembling slightly.
“Kill my son, seize the throne!”