Within the elegant yet solemn study of the Marquis Estate, the windows and doors were shut tight, while candlelight flickered dimly.
The Marquis of Peace Prefecture sat upright in his grand chair, dressed in a solemn brocade robe.
The composed, noble expression he had worn in the past, that look of everything under his control, had vanished without a trace. His face was now as dark as water, his eyes churning with an incomparably deep wariness and gloom.
The frontier's victory report lay on the desk, every word glaringly conspicuous.
Every single item recorded upon it could only be called a miracle.
Before this, he had never regarded Li Xuancang as worthy of notice.
In Lin Zhenyue's eyes, Li Xuancang had merely been a mud-legged nobody with no foundation.
Even if he had earned some military merit and possessed decent character, he had ultimately been born lowly.
Without any foundation or support to rely on, no matter how he struggled, he would remain a bottom-tier martial man, incapable of stirring up any great storm.
When Lin Jingtan had stolen his marriage contract, he had even tacitly approved and indulged it.
He had thought that after suffering such humiliation, Li Xuancang's will would surely be crushed. He would never rise again and could only spend his life beneath the shadows of the Marquis Estate and Lin Jingtan.
Yet in the brief span since then, the times had changed.
That youth he had regarded as an ant had forcibly risen against the tide with nothing but a pair of iron fists and a body full of iron-blooded resolve. One battle had made him a legend, and his name had shaken all of Peace Prefecture.
Li Xuancang's reputation now crushed everyone else's. The army's morale belonged entirely to him, and the people revered