Zhu Zhanjun's seemingly casual words struck everyone present like a thunderbolt.
Tatars?
Wolf Head Tattoo?
What was His Highness Prince Zheng talking about?
What did this have to do with Zhang Ke's rebellion?
Everyone was utterly bewildered.
Only a few people turned deathly pale in an instant.
The smug smiles on Prince Han Zhu Gaoxu and Prince Zhao Zhu Gaosui's faces froze at the corners of their mouths.
They exchanged a glance, and each saw a trace of disbelieving terror in the other's eyes.
But Zhang Ke, bound to the flagpole, reacted most violently.
His body, which had been wailing in anguish, suddenly stiffened, his pupils widening to their limit.
He stared at Zhu Zhanjun as if he'd seen a ghost.
How could he know this secret?
This was the highest-level secret of the Tartar Royal Court!
Only the innermost members of the Golden Family were entitled to tattoo the wolf-head totem that represented their bloodline!
He had been lying low in Great Ming for fifteen years and had never mentioned it to anyone!
"You... What nonsense are you talking about!"
Fear made Zhang Ke's voice shrill and piercing.
"I don't know anything about the Tatars or Wolf Head Tattoos! I'm a Great Ming citizen! I'm Han!"
"Is that so?"
The smile on Zhu Zhanjun's face broadened.
"Then what a shame."
He signaled to the guards behind him.
A Great Snow Dragon Rider Guard stepped forward, drew the saber at his waist, and walked beneath the flagpole.
"What are you doing!"
Zhang Ke began struggling frantically.
"Stop! You can't—"
Before he could finish, the guard brought his blade down.
"Riiiip!"
Cloth tore with a sharp crack.
The fabric over Zhang Ke's left shoulder was slashed cleanly open, exposing the bronze-colored skin beneath.
On it, a savage, lifelike Black Wolf Head