On the day the auspicious omen appeared, Li Qingxian's memorial of apology was submitted to the Cabinet through the Night Guard.
Every word in the letter wept blood; every sentence was steeped in boundless grief.
It stated plainly that Li Qingxian, son of Gang Feng, had lived a spotless life, yet had been harmed by treacherous villains and pressed forward step by step. Seeking only to protect himself and fight for a sliver of survival, he had been forced into this desperate measure.
Li Qingxian could not even understand it. He was merely the honest son of a literary cultivator, a lowly Night Guard soldier without power or influence. Why had he been driven to the point where even fleeing along the Great River led to people plotting against him?
What merit or ability did he possess to deserve being encircled and slaughtered by a hundred thousand demon soldiers?
In the end, Li Qingxian declared that every person in Taigu City, every needle, every thread, belonged to the Qi Kingdom and to His Majesty. If His Majesty wished to take them, Li Qingxian would kneel in gratitude for the imperial grace and return even the official robes upon his back.
He only hoped that, for the sake of the Li Family's generations of loyal martyrs, his injustice might be cleared away.
This memorial of apology quickly spread across the world.
Many people were still puzzled. Before those above had even made a move, why had Li Qingxian already taken the initiative to surrender his authority?
The high officials of the court merely shook their heads. If Gang Feng had possessed even a fraction of Li Qingxian's shamelessness back then, he would not have rammed his head into a pillar in open court.
Yes, this was Li Qingxian's confession, and he