Li Si had already risen from the bench. He dusted off nonexistent dirt from his robes, his gaze shifting back and forth between Ying Zheng and Dun Ruo, his brows twisted into a deep furrow.
His thumb began turning again, but this time, it moved exceedingly slowly—one circle, then another—as though calculating some chess game he could not comprehend.
Wang Wan clutched his shoulder and slowly straightened himself from the wall panel.
His eyes were full of confusion. He looked at Dun Ruo, then at Ying Zheng. His lips moved, but in the end, he said nothing.
They were baffled.
What was going on with Dun Ruo?
This fellow had never been some fawning flatterer before.
But now?
Every sentence was about Lord Wuwei. Every sentence spoke on Lord Wuwei's behalf, heaping praise upon him.
And His Majesty was actually so pleased, smiling as if he had heard the most pleasing compliment in the world.
It was far too unreasonable.
Lord Wuwei was indeed powerful. They all knew that.
He had wiped out several states in succession; the Blood-Clad Army was invincible across the land; his own cultivation was unfathomable; and his prestige within the army was frighteningly high.
He had his own fief, and within it stood Wu'an City, the greatest fortified city under heaven, as well as the Mohist Pavilion, a treasure basin that raked in gold by the day. It could manufacture Rail-Cars, cannons, repeating crossbows, glass, paper...
This could no longer be summed up by saying his merit overshadowed the ruler.
He was practically an enormous threat capable of successfully rebelling at any moment.
Yet His Majesty favored him immensely.
Not only did he show no wariness or guard against him, he showered him with every grace, even personally bringing so many ministers and high-ranking officials