Hearing Jiang Che's frank and utterly straightforward answer, the heart Zhao Xu had been holding in his throat finally dropped heavily back into his stomach.
Zhao Xu's thoughts had been perfectly anticipated by Jiang Che.
In this feudal era where imperial authority reigned supreme, the words "the divine right of kings" were the untouchable sore spot pressed upon the heart of every emperor.
Now that Jiang Che's identity as an immortal master had been completely confirmed, the earthshaking miracle of raising the dead had been spread among the people of Bianliang until it sounded almost mythical.
If this living immortal truly intended to remain in Bianliang for long...
then he, Zhao Xu, a mere mortal emperor, would likely spend every day on edge, enduring torment amid fear and suspicion.
After all, having a deity beside one's bed who could overthrow a dynasty at any moment was simply too great a blessing—so great that it could easily crush the Great Song's realm and state.
Fortunately, the immortal master had no desire for worldly power and would depart in a few days. That could be considered a way of preserving this bond between ruler and subject, where immortals and mortals had crossed paths.
Having completely cast off the wariness and burden in his heart, Zhao Xu's expression became increasingly respectful. He stepped forward, clasped his hands, and bowed deeply to Jiang Che.
Then, he asked a question that had haunted him for days and left him utterly unable to understand.
"Immortal Master..."
Zhao Xu knitted his brows tightly and asked in a grave tone, "Some days ago in Funing Hall, you said that if Zhao Xu had simply died then, chaos would surely engulf the realm, and the people would suffer terribly—perhaps even repeating the mistakes of history."
"May I ask what