The dead were dead, so the living had to step forward and speak.
Lu Xingkong had long since "died"—died at the hands of Song Gudú of the Song Clan, who had acted personally, and at the sinister hands of Cui Xichen of the Cui Clan. That was also why the wise Xifeng Royal Family had later acted to eradicate the rebel faction led by the Song Clan, which had attempted to usurp the throne and establish a new sovereign.
Lu Xingkong had died, carrying tragedy and the sympathy of countless people into death with him.
Moreover, Lu Xingkong's death had been the source, the trigger—the "Qiji" that later led to one change and purge after another in the empire's political landscape.
If someone who had died suddenly came back to life, then everything would become debatable, everything would warrant scrutiny, and it would all turn into a farce.
By then, people would naturally start wondering: if Lu Xingkong had faked his death, then had Song Gudú really killed him with his own hands in Sword God Square, or had it all been a smokescreen?
If Lu Xingkong had not died, then why had he been able to watch the members of the Lu Clan be slaughtered and hunted down? What exactly had he been scheming?
If Lu Xingkong had not died, then was Song Gudú dead? Had the Song Clan truly rebelled and plotted treason? Had the Cui Clan been a political sacrificial lamb?
And so on, and so forth.
Of all the things in this world, the most frightening was the act of "putting one's mind to something."
Once someone started applying their mind to it, turning it over and over in their head, the flaws would multiply, and the truth would become clearer and clearer.
With Lu Xingkong's