Meng Zhao's somewhat conversation-killing remark instantly silenced the entire hall. The formerly clamorous atmosphere took on a suffocating air that was almost frightening.
At this point, even if they wanted to play dumb, they probably could not. The Ding Family Patriarch, the Xun Family Patriarch, and the Zhuo Family Patriarch—the heads of the three greatest clans that had risen in this region—exchanged glances and reached a certain tacit understanding.
"Your Highness, as the Meng Family Patriarch said, do you have an imperial decree from the Imperial Court authorizing the formation of the Prefectural Army?"
The steady and seasoned old master of the Xun Family would not take the initiative to speak, while the Zhuo Family Patriarch deeply understood the principle of planning before acting. Thus, it was still the Ding Family Patriarch who took the lead and asked.
Beitang Ang sighed. He had miscalculated. He had intended to drag Meng Zhao into the water, yet he had not expected the youth to be so cunning and slippery. Shaking his head, then nodding again, he said helplessly, "As for an imperial decree, of course there is one. Otherwise, even if I had the courage of ten thousand men, I would not dare raise an army privately. That is a matter that costs one's head. "However, strictly speaking, it is merely an oral command and was never put to paper. That is why I wished to discuss this matter with everyone rather than force it through."
Sure enough, faint smiles appeared on many people's lips. They had guessed correctly—it truly was only an oral command.
Was an oral command an order?
Of course it was, and one with tremendous authority and force at that.
That depended on the strength and status of the person issuing it.
When the Son of Heaven spoke