Duke Yu's wails and cries of injustice instantly gave Ye Zhen the vivid feeling of sitting quietly at home while disaster fell from the sky.
Ye Zhen had fought countless battles, killed countless people, and been in countless brawls.
He knew how to measure his strikes. How could Marquis Chi Quan Shi Ting have died from grievous injuries?
"Duke Yu, it is true that I had a small conflict with your son yesterday, but I exercised great restraint. Your son suffered only superficial injuries and was perfectly fine when he left. The Patrol Inspection Division and Heavenly Patrol Division have men who can testify to that," Ye Zhen said helplessly as he stepped forward and cupped his hands.
"Pah!"
Duke Yu Shi Mingpo, his face twisted with grief, suddenly spat at Ye Zhen. "Superficial injuries? You have the nerve to say that?
"If they were superficial injuries, how could my son have died of grievous wounds that very night?
"Ye, what grudge did my son have against you that you had to strike with such vicious cruelty? And you still dare mention witnesses from the Patrol Inspection Division and Heavenly Patrol Division—have you no shame?
"You beat a Marquis to death in the street. How would those petty officials dare defy your wishes?"
"Your Majesty, Your Majesty, you must uphold justice for this old minister! This old minister earned this title on the battlefield, piling it up with the heads of the Devil Race through real blades and real blood.
"Ye Zhen, relying on his military achievements, dared to commit violence in the street and beat my son to death. I beg Your Majesty to uphold justice for this old minister!" With a bang, Duke Yu dropped to his knees before the imperial steps and refused to rise.
As Ye