Wenzhong, Who Lost Both His Army and His Wife

Wenzhong Pays Dearly and Loses His Forces — Morning Song, Grand Preceptor's Residence.

Wenzhong stood alone before the courtyard, gazing at the cold stone table within. He let out a silent, lengthy sigh, his eyes filled with the desolation of time.

This stone table had once been where he, Huang Feihu, Bi Gan, Shang Rong, and the other high ministers of Yin Shang often gathered to discuss state affairs and deliberate over the realm.

In those days, ruler and ministers had been united in purpose, the court clear and upright. All of them had burned with ambition, swearing to protect Great Shang's foundation and safeguard the peace of the common people.

Yet in merely a few short decades, the world had turned upside down, and the land lay in decline.

Those dear friends of old—some had died, some had left, some had betrayed them. In just a handful of years, they had scattered like drifting leaves, never again to have a chance to reunite.

"Could it be... that Great Shang's legacy will ultimately be buried by my own hands?"

That soft sigh carried endless melancholy and helplessness.

The dynasty was crumbling and hearts had scattered. Even with abilities reaching the heavens and a heart of unwavering loyalty, he could not reverse the collapse of the greater tide.

Wenzhong forcibly suppressed the turbulent thoughts and sorrow surging in his heart.

He knew well that, as Grand Preceptor and the Shang Dynasty's last remaining bulwark, he absolutely could not allow despair to take root in his heart.

The moment even his conviction crumbled, Great Shang would truly become beyond all cure.

He composed himself, his gaze turning grave as he considered the situation at the border.

Western Qi's hidden strength had surged dramatically in recent years. Rumor had it that capable men