These words could no longer be described merely as “great disrespect”—whether in terms of ruler and minister, or father and son.

Yet Zhao Yishi showed no fear and continued speaking:

“If Father had dared to step forward back then and say to the Late Emperor: Your Majesty, everything was calculated by this rebellious son behind the scenes—

I not only wouldn’t blame Father, I would sincerely praise him: Father is upright.

Even if we were neglected, exiled, or even lost our lives, Father would still be like a lofty mountain in my heart.

Unfortunately, Father didn’t step forward.

Why didn’t you step forward? Was it merely because I’m your son?”

Zhao Yishi sneered and shook his head.

“You have so many sons—what harm would there be in losing one?

It was because you were still in the position of Crown Prince, wasn’t it?

It was because I was called the Worthy Grand Prince, wasn’t it?

It was because your position as Crown Prince still depended on me, this Worthy Grand Prince, to preserve it, wasn’t it?”

Zhao Yanluo’s breathing suddenly grew heavy.

He raised his hand, about to strike down again, when the Crown Prince agilely stood up and retreated several steps.

“Enough, Father!”

Zhao Yishi roared lowly.

“You can’t have your cake and eat it too, enjoy the grapes yet complain they’re sour!”

“Rebellious son, rebellious son!”

Zhao Yanluo pounded his cane loudly.

“Do you know that your so-called rebellious son, in order to save your life, to save the Crown Prince’s Residence, knelt before Xie Daozhi, crying tears and snot?”

Zhao Yishi remembered that moment of humiliation, his voice suddenly choking.

“I was the Grand Prince personally appointed by the Late Emperor! I kneel to Heaven, kneel to Earth, kneel to my ruler, kneel to my parents—yet I also had to kneel before… before a minister?

Why did I have to do this? Because I understood your situation!

My father is a gentleman who doesn’t compete or contend. When a blade is at his throat, he lets others slaughter him—he’s a true warrior.

Fine, since the gentleman disdains to act, let me, his son, be the villain, be the evil one. If wronged souls come seeking revenge in the future, let me enter hell.”

He forcefully patted his chest, the sound echoing loudly.

“Father, do you know the sincerity of your son’s heart for you?”

Zhao Yanluo looked at the Crown Prince before him with disbelief. After a long while, he laughed derisively.

“The Crown Prince truly has a silver tongue, always fond of shifting your own faults onto others.”

“Yes, yes, I’m afraid of death. Is being afraid of death wrong?”

Zhao Yishi stepped forward, staring down the Emperor: “Has Father forgotten the fate of the Deposed Crown Prince?”

Zhao Yanluo’s corpulent body shuddered violently, his face instantly turning deathly pale.

“Such a good person—what was his final outcome?”

Zhao Yishi enunciated each word: “The historical records call him a traitorous minister and rebellious subject, my Father!”

The Deposed Crown Prince—he would have called him Uncle.

Zhao Yanluo felt his heart suddenly seized, the pain beyond even breathing’s power to soothe.

“Look again at the fate of the Deposed Crown Prince’s Residence! Was there a single survivor? Blood flowed like a river!”

The red in Zhao Yishi’s eyes grew denser, like blood about to drip out.

“Why should we follow in his footsteps? We are the legitimate line!”

He had heard this bloody history from his mother’s mouth, so frightened he had nightmares for half a month, not daring even to leave the bed curtains to relieve himself at night.

Without his mother whispering in his ear, he had realized one truth: born into the imperial family, if you want to survive, there’s only one word—ruthless.

That year, he was only five years old.

When he was ten, he once accidentally saw the historian’s records. Those four words “traitorous minister and rebellious subject” stung his eyes.

Only then did he understand that some historical records weren’t entirely factual.

Thus, he realized another truth: A person must stand at the highest position to have a reputation in life and after death.

“Father, I did nothing wrong, not a single step wrong.”

Zhao Yishi pressed forward another step, looking down from above at the emperor on the bed.

“My only mistake was being born into this imperial family, being your son. Do you know how exhausting it is to be your son?”

He shook his head: “How careful I had to be before the Late Emperor, how fearful and anxious, how much I had to think ahead and plan behind—all to preserve your position as Crown Prince?”

Zhao Yanluo looked at him. “Also to preserve your position as Grand Prince.”

“Yes, Father. Preserving you means preserving me. Preserving me means preserving you. We’re of the same line—glory shared, loss shared!”

Zhao Yishi laughed bitterly.

“We should have advanced and retreated together, not like now—accusing each other, being wary of each other, all because of some unrelated people.”

Unrelated people?

A strange smile appeared on Zhao Yanluo’s corpulent face.

“I questioned why the Crown Prince entered the capital without summons, never expecting to provoke such a lengthy speech. It seems the Crown Prince has been dissatisfied with me for quite some time.”

“Your son wouldn’t dare.”

Zhao Yishi: “Your son only wishes to admonish Father—don’t be soft-hearted like a woman.”

“What fine words—’soft-hearted like a woman!'”

Zhao Yanluo: “She’s merely a young woman with no troops or followers. What about her warrants your determination to eliminate her completely? What mistake has I made that requires you, Crown Prince, to remedy?”

Zhao Yishi choked.

“Crown Prince, being born into the imperial family isn’t your fault, being my son isn’t your fault either, but you could at least…”

Zhao Yanluo pointed at his own chest: “Keep a shred of conscience!”

Zhao Yishi sneered repeatedly: “I ask Father, what is conscience?”

“Conscience is a person’s measure for conduct. The standard for measurement is whether you can sleep peacefully at night.”

Zhao Yanluo supported himself with his cane, struggling to stand.

His frame was tall and imposing, his gaze meeting Zhao Yishi’s directly.

“I hear the Crown Prince often cannot sleep at night. Done too many things against your conscience?”

“Your Majesty overthinks.”

“It’s not I who overthink, but you, Crown Prince, who overthink. You think that when the Late Emperor wanted to depose me, it was merely because the Prince of Han resembled him, was brave in battle, was a replica of the Late Emperor’s younger self?”

Zhao Yanluo: “Wrong! It was because I was slightly more benevolent than the Late Emperor in dealing with people, and the officials were willing to be close to me. This bit of benevolence gave the Late Emperor a sense of crisis.”

Zhao Yishi’s pupils trembled slightly.

“You think that he repeatedly refrained from deposing me merely because he feared public opinion, feared the ministers’ opposition?

Also wrong!

The later it got, the clearer he saw one thing—his years of southern campaigns and northern expeditions had drained the national treasury.

If the successor were the Prince of Han, Han’s temperament would inevitably continue waging wars. This would empty the treasury further, make the people suffer more—the nation would be in danger!

Zhao Yanluo paused.

“So back then, the Crown Prince’s Residence crisis didn’t require sacrificing a Zheng family at all. We only needed to place someone beside the Prince of Han.

This person would remind him every moment: the Emperor favors him, the Crown Prince is fat and crippled—a useless waste. He will surely be able to replace the Crown Prince in the future, ascend to the throne, become a renowned ruler.

Hearing flattery often inevitably breeds arrogance.

The more arrogance accumulated on him, the more naturally he would become insufferably conceited.

Add to that Zheng Yu as vice-general—no matter how difficult the battle, with Zheng Yu’s ability to lead troops, they could defeat the Tartars with narrow escapes from danger.

This would add another layer of arrogance.

Given Han’s temperament, even without accomplishments he would boast about himself. Having finally won a great victory, he would boast himself to the heavens, perhaps not even regarding the Late Emperor highly.

And what the Late Emperor could least tolerate was arrogant people whose achievements overshadowed the master. This tactic is called ‘killing with praise.'”

Zhao Yanluo looked at the undisguised shock on Zhao Yishi’s face, saying lightly:

“Crown Prince, it wasn’t that I would definitely be deposed if Zheng Yu and Prince of Han won the battle. Quite the opposite—only if they won the battle would I definitely not be deposed.”