Beitang He was both startled and delighted by this sudden flash of inspiration. Clutching the Hesheng Pastry in his hand, he paced back and forth across the polished floor, muttering to himself with a look of heavy concern.
He was startled because he had never imagined Meng Zhao would take the initiative to extend goodwill to him, much less cooperate with him or form an alliance.
The reason was simple. At the royal mansion's night banquet that day, he had thoroughly played Meng Zhao for a fool, nearly leaving him unable to save face and even risking his complete disgrace. That Meng Zhao had not turned hostile on the spot already showed remarkable composure and restraint.
The subsequent developments had also unfolded just as he expected. Meng Zhao had indeed opposed him at every turn, clearly still nursing a grudge.
Not to mention that afterward, Meng Zhao had become the man jointly put forth by forces large and small throughout Lingwu City to contend with him for control of the Yangwu Army. That had left him tossing and turning, unable to sleep in peace.
With a relationship like this, if he stood in Meng Zhao's position and held Meng Zhao's status, he would never take the initiative to reconcile.
Young men full of vigor like that rarely tolerated backing down. Brimming with Blood Qi, bold and fearless—those were their defining traits.
But now it seemed he had underestimated the Northern Meng Dragon King, whose fame shook the world. A man who could endure what others could not was undoubtedly ruthless—not ruthless in martial arts, but ruthless enough in the patience and decisiveness of his temperament.
From the bottom of his heart, Beitang He wanted to bring about such a reconciliation between them. Yet if it truly came to pass, then