Once the dizziness from being struck on the head had passed, Shao Pingbo calmed down again. "Lord Zhao, I can't take this beating and scolding for nothing. Can we talk this over calmly?"
What did he mean, he could not take it for nothing? Zhao Gongquan's anger had already subsided somewhat at the sight of blood, but upon hearing that, his fury surged anew. This man had killed his son, yet dared say such things before his son's memorial tablet. Unable to contain his rage, he suddenly rushed to the sword rack beside the hall, drew a Precious Sword with a swish, then turned and charged back.
Shao Sansheng was horrified. How could he allow this? He immediately scrambled to his feet, only for Shao Pingbo to seize him and hold him down tightly.
The sword in Zhao Gongquan's hand flashed, and its edge was instantly pressed against Shao Pingbo's neck. His chest heaved violently, and even the hand clutching the sword trembled with rage, yet this fatal strike could not be brought down.
His son's killer was right before him, kneeling helplessly and entirely at his mercy. He could kill him with one stroke at any moment, yet he simply could not bring himself to do it.
To Shao Sansheng, this situation was far too dangerous. The young master had weathered so many storms and crossed so many perilous waves; if he died by this man's hand now, would that not be like capsizing in a ditch? Shao Sansheng struggled, but Shao Pingbo gripped him firmly and said calmly, "Old Shao, don't be nervous. Lord Zhao has lived in the Imperial Court for many years. He knows better than anyone what can be done and what cannot, unlike me, who am rash and impulsive. I am an Imperial Court