Zhu Zhanjun's words completely shattered Fang Bin's last line of psychological defense.
He had imagined Zhu Zhanjun would use his power to crush him, or resort to force. But he had never dreamed that the moment the other man made a move, he would seize him by the throat—and choke the lifeblood of the entire Great Ming court.
Using the Northern Expedition Army and the emperor's safety as leverage!
What audacity!
What utter lawlessness!
And yet, he, Fang Bin, could do nothing about it.
Because Zhu Zhanjun was telling the truth.
If the supply lines really were cut off, the first person held accountable and thrown out as a scapegoat would absolutely be him, the Minister of War!
When that happened, forget fighting Zhu Zhanjun—even whether the Fang Family could keep their lives would be in question.
"I... I'll give it..."
Fang Bin's strength drained away, and his whole body sagged. In a hoarse voice, he managed to spit out those words.
He admitted defeat.
Faced with overwhelming power and naked threats, all his schemes and tricks seemed laughable.
"You could've done this from the start. No need to waste everyone's time."
Zhu Zhanjun curled his lip, looking as though he had expected this all along.
Just then, another burst of hurried hoofbeats sounded from the far end of the long street.
Torchlight flickered as a troop of cavalry clad in golden armor and carrying long halberds burst through the night, galloping toward Tingfeng Pavilion.
The steeds beneath them were exceptionally fine, and their armor was exquisitely crafted, gleaming with a dignified radiance in the torchlight.
At the head of the troop rode a burly, stern-faced officer, a golden saber bestowed by imperial decree hanging at his waist.
"It's the Yulin Guard! The emperor's Imperial Vanguard!"
Someone in the crowd