But he was ultimately only a mortal. He could still use all he had learned in his life to navigate the power struggles and policy disputes at court.
But once it involved a contest between immortals and gods, he could no longer offer the slightest help. Even if he returned to Zhaoge, he would merely be throwing away his life for nothing and might instead disrupt King Zhou's arrangements.
At this thought, Shang Rong clenched the letter in his hand and gazed in the direction of Zhaoge, his eyes filled with unwillingness and Obsession.
Great Shang's realm was the homeland he had spent his entire life protecting. In life, he was a minister of Great Shang; in death, he would be a ghost of Great Shang.
Even if the road ahead was a death trap laid by immortals and gods, he was absolutely unwilling to hide away in this paradise and cling to life in disgrace!
At this thought, the heaviness in Shang Rong's heart eased somewhat, replaced by a settled sense of relief.
He understood that Zhaoge had already become like this:
King Zhou seemed lost in decadence and folly, while most court power had fallen into the hands of the Demon Concubine and the sycophantic official. Ordinary ministers were already powerless to turn the tide.
Even if he returned to court now, he would only be trying to stop a chariot with his bare arms. Not only would he fail to reverse the situation, but he might expose King Zhou's arrangements and bring disaster instead.
Having understood this, Shang Rong let out a long breath of Turbid Qi. The Obsession that had driven him to remonstrate until death and die in Zhaoge quietly transformed into restraint and planning.
He no longer dwelled on the immediate predicament, nor did