When Ji Fa turned and walked back to the Commander's Tent, he reassessed Nezha in his heart.
This man was decisive in killing and war, could not tolerate the slightest grain of sand in his eyes, and had an obsession with righteousness. He could not be forced to do anything that went against his own heart.
But precisely because of that, as long as it did not violate his heart, he was easier to use than anyone else.
At night, the great tent was brightly lit and packed with people.
There were newly defected generals, strange men and Daoists Jiang Ziya had invited from all sides, and local military officers of Xiqi.
The air was mixed with the smell of wine, sweat, and a heat from the victory just won that had not yet had time to disperse.
Ji Fa sat in the main seat, dressed in a set of light gray everyday robes.
Spread out before him was a scroll map, on which several key passes of the Shang Dynasty had been marked in cinnabar, with small notes written beside each one.
He pushed the map a little toward the center of the table.
"Everyone."
"King Zhou of Shang has no Dao. Heaven's Mandate has returned to Zhou."
He stood, bracing both hands on the edge of the table, his body leaning slightly forward, like a mountain slowly shifting ahead.
"Follow me, everyone, and give the world back its peace."
The generals answered with a thunderous roar.
Some slapped the table and shouted their approval, some slammed their wine bowls down, splashing out rings of wine stains, and some rose to clasp their fists in salute, the iron plates of their armor clattering.
Jiang Ziya sat on Ji Fa's right, his grizzled hair coiled up with a wooden hairpin,