To most of those at the Dragon Palace Banquet, Lin Zhengren was nothing more than an insignificant little episode.
Aside from Beigong Ke's few barbed words of concern that jabbed straight into his lungs, only Sheng Xuehuai spared him another glance—probably wondering why the bastard had not coughed up blood and died on the spot.
Chongxuan Sheng gave nothing away, slowly sipping the wine in his cup. The world's great rivers, the waters of time, the tides of grand momentum—all were drunk from that cup.
What sort of man was the current Marquis of Bowang?
He was no Marquis of Champions, nor the former Marquis of Wu'an—men who cared nothing for official careers, proudly walked their own road, and stood at court as though standing guard duty.
He actively took part in politics and held politics in his grasp. In a very short time, he had completely absorbed the political legacy of the previous Marquis of Bowang, taken command of the political resources accumulated by the Chongxuan Clan over generations, and moved through the treacherous, ever-shifting court like a fish in water. Using the official path to nourish his cultivation, he had achieved Divine Presence without regret.
Even in his early, obscure days, he had known how to borrow strength to strike strength, leveraging the Qi-Yang War to seize political capital for himself.
Now, having inherited the title of Marquis of Bowang and joined in marriage with Court Consultant Yi Xingchen, the political power he could command had become truly terrifying.
As a genuine member of the empire's upper ranks, he could already influence imperial policy, even guide the direction of the state!
Lin Zhengren had found an excuse to leave his seat. Naturally, he had seen through it at a glance.
But he had no intention of interfering.
With