Looking at the silver armor, silver helmet, and bright red cloak laid before him, Shao Mingyuan’s mood was heavy.

He had long anticipated this day would come.

This time of year was when the northern territories’ people faced the hardest season between harvests, and life was even more difficult for the Northern Qi people who relied on plundering Great Liang’s border residents for sustenance.

During his seven years in the northern territories, this month was always when fighting was fiercest. The Northern Qi people’s wariness of him reached its lowest point during this period, and every clash was fought with bloodshot eyes.

Last spring, he had led troops to recapture Yan City, frightening the barbarians into retreating north of Ala Mountain. The barbarians had been quiet for a year, which was already too long for them. Moreover, he had suppressed the barbarians tightly for years—their annual plundering campaigns yielded little benefit, making life extremely difficult for the Northern Qi people.

In his estimation, the barbarians who had lain dormant for a year would make a move at this time, especially once news of his imprisonment reached the north. Those mindless barbarians would become even more unrestrained.

They wouldn’t consider that this action would allow their mortal enemy to see daylight again. For them, being able to devour the meat at their lips was most important.

As long as they could fill their bellies now, they didn’t care about future floods.

This was Shao Mingyuan’s understanding of the Northern Qi barbarians, and based on this understanding, he was certain he wouldn’t stay long in the imperial prison.

However, he had miscalculated one thing—these barbarians were even greedier than he expected, actually running to the capital outskirts to plunder. That’s why his release came so swiftly.

And this also meant countless innocent people had lost their lives in this calamity.

He could foresee such disasters, but couldn’t prevent them.

Zhaozhao was right—he had never been an immortal who rescued the suffering, but a mortal of flesh and blood. Under supreme imperial power, when even his safety was uncertain, how could he protect the people?

Jiang Yuanchao accompanied Wei Wuxie to announce the imperial edict.

“By the Mandate of Heaven, the Emperor decrees: Marquis Guanjun Shao Mingyuan is indeed the son of the criminal minister Helian Ting… Therefore, let Marquis Guanjun lead the expedition and atone for his crimes through merit. There must be no mistakes. This is my decree!”

Wei Wuxie finished reading the imperial edict with appropriate intonation, but saw Shao Mingyuan kneeling quietly without responding.

“Lord Marquis, please receive the edict,” Wei Wuxie reminded.

Only then did Shao Mingyuan say flatly: “Since this minister is guilty, I dare not command ten thousand troops.”

At these words, Wei Wuxie’s expression changed immediately, and even Jiang Yuanchao showed an incredulous expression.

Marquis Guanjun was openly defying the imperial decree and threatening the emperor!

How dare he? How could he?

Wei Wuxie’s hand holding the imperial edict trembled slightly as he stared intently at Shao Mingyuan’s eyes.

In the dim prison cell, the young man stood straight as a bamboo. The haggardness brought by imprisonment couldn’t diminish his spirit in the slightest.

Shao Mingyuan’s dark eyes were clear as he met Wei Wuxie’s gaze.

Why wouldn’t he dare? Why couldn’t he?

The emperor had already developed the intention to kill him. Whether he submitted to slaughter or openly defied the decree, the emperor would always wait for the day when the hounds would be killed after the hares were caught.

What he could do as a minister was to become that irreplaceable person, never giving the emperor a chance to treat him as a discarded piece.

This was certainly tragic, yet also helpless.

Born a subject, facing such tragedy and helplessness, he could only seek justice for himself and his family to suppress this overwhelming resentment.

“Lord Marquis, do you know what you’re doing?”

Shao Mingyuan lowered his eyes, his tone calm: “Director Wei, I think I’ve spoken very clearly.”

Wei Wuxie glanced at Jiang Yuanchao and said through gritted teeth: “Lord Marquis, please receive the edict. This servant can pretend not to have heard those words.”

Shao Mingyuan raised his eyes with a slight smile: “Thank you for your kind intention, Director, but please quickly report my exact words to His Majesty. After all, neither the people nor the barbarians will wait.”

“You—” Seeing Shao Mingyuan’s expressionless face, Wei Wuxie knew he had made up his mind. With a heavy sigh, he held up the imperial edict and rushed straight to the palace.

“What? Marquis Guanjun defied the decree?” Emperor Mingkang shot to his feet.

Wei Wuxie kept his head down as he replied: “Marquis Guanjun said that as the son of a criminal minister, he has no face to lead troops as commander.”

Emperor Mingkang was so angry he paced back and forth in his recently repaired imperial study, furious: “What a Marquis Guanjun! He dares to take advantage of the crisis and bargain with me! This is threatening me!”

Lan Shan and the other important ministers didn’t dare breathe loudly.

Emperor Mingkang flung his sleeve, nearly hitting the ministers’ faces: “Tell me, should such a scoundrel as Marquis Guanjun be killed!”

Everyone kept their heads down without saying a word.

“Speak! Should he be killed or not?”

Upon hearing this, the ministers thought: Fine, the emperor is this angry—what more is there to say? Of course, they should agree with the emperor’s meaning. Otherwise, whether Marquis Guanjun would lose his head was uncertain, but their heads would fall first.

“Should be killed! Should be killed!”

“Wei Wuxie!” Hearing the ministers’ response, Emperor Mingkang suddenly stopped.

“This slave is here.”

“Convey my decree: Since Marquis Guanjun was imprisoned, I have cherished his talent and commanded Jinlin Guards Commander Jiang Yuanchao to thoroughly investigate the case of Marquis Zhenyuan from twenty-one years ago. Now it has been discovered that the correspondence between Marquis Zhenyuan and Prince Su was not written in Marquis Zhenyuan’s hand. The Marquis Zhenyuan case was indeed a wrongful conviction. Thinking of my old friend, I am heartbroken. Therefore, I posthumously ennoble Marquis Zhenyuan as Duke Zhenyuan, with hereditary succession without degradation…”

Speaking to this point, Emperor Mingkang glanced coolly at Lan Shan: “Chief Minister Lan Shan’s impeachment at that time was mistaken. Though it came from loyal intentions, it cannot go unpunished. He is now fined three years’ salary and must personally go to prison to apologize to Marquis Guanjun…”

The ministers: “…” What happened to the beheading? Your Majesty, being so inconsistent between words and heart, have you considered our feelings?

Lan Shan: “…” He stepped in dog shit!

Emperor Mingkang felt utterly wronged: I don’t want to either, but that little beast Marquis Guanjun is threatening me with Great Liang’s territory!

For Emperor Mingkang, who pursued immortality and wished to sit on the dragon throne forever, any favored minister’s stubborn temper had to step aside when compared to his realm.

The nearly seventy-year-old Chief Minister Lan Shan, supported by two little eunuchs, headed straight for the prison.

Wei Wuxie arrived with the new imperial edict and looked at the calm-faced Shao Mingyuan with nothing but admiration in his heart.

The imperial heart was unpredictable; a minister’s life or death hung on the emperor’s single thought. Rather than worry about being held accountable by the emperor someday in the future, Marquis Guanjun had burned his bridges and used this opportunity to clear his family’s name—he had done the right thing.

After the new decree was announced, Shao Mingyuan finally said composedly, “Minister Shao Mingyuan receives the edict.”

He stood up, holding the imperial edict in one hand, quietly looking at Lan Shan.

Lan Shan tremblingly bowed to apologize to Shao Mingyuan. Shao Mingyuan said expressionlessly, “Chief Minister Lan need not do this. Lord Jiang, may this marquis leave now?”

What he had never wanted was Lan Shan’s apology—he wanted Lan Shan’s life!

The hatred for his father’s murder—if not avenged, how could he be worthy of being called a son?

“Lord Marquis, please. Your warhorse and personal guard are waiting outside,” Jiang Yuanchao said in a flat tone.

That Marquis Guanjun could turn the tables even from such a desperate situation—he had underestimated him.

Shao Mingyuan bent down to pick up the silver armor and put it on, fastened the belt around his waist, and donned the pure silver helmet.

The bright red cloak behind him and the red tassel on his helmet swayed with his movement. Everyone present silently followed him out.