Just How Deep Are the Undercurrents Buried!

His father was standing at the very eye of the storm.

As the Heavenly Court's Marshal of Troops and Horse, personally appointed by Haotian, Li Jing could not escape being held to account no matter whether this battle was won or lost—if he won, it was the Heavenly Emperor's wisdom; if he lost, it was his own incompetence that had ruined everything.

Nezha's brows drew together slightly, his fingertips unconsciously twisting the corner of his sleeve.

Though he and Li Jing were far from close as father and son, things had never reached the point of life and death between them.

At the very least, in front of Madam Yin, they still had to maintain a veneer of propriety.

And in Nezha's heart, Madam Yin was someone higher than heaven and weightier than earth.

When raging flames consumed his body, she had been the only hand reaching out to him. After his soul scattered and his spirit shattered, she had risked her life to protect that final wisp of his true spirit.

Had his mother not nourished him day after day with her own blood essence, prolonging his life with her compassionate heart, Nezha would long since have become a wisp of fading smoke in the winds of the Primordial Wilderness. How could he possibly possess this body of wind and thunder today?

For the sake of that debt alone, he would never kick Li Jing while he was down, much less stand by with folded arms.

As thoughts surged through him, Nezha raised his eyes. His voice was cool, yet brooked no question:

"This prince will proceed to the commander-in-chief's tent to discuss matters at once. You will temporarily stand guard here in my stead—strictly uphold military discipline, prohibit all private fighting, and anyone who dares act without authorization