The Martial Virtue Star Lord lowered his eyelids slightly, staring at a tea leaf floating in his cup.
The leaf spun on the surface, bobbing up and down, much like his current predicament.
Taken at face value, the South Dipper Star Lord's earlier words showed an elder's affection for a junior: he would rather swallow his pride and plead before the Great Heavenly Venerable than leave Wu Wen in the Heavenly Prison.
Yet he had then changed tack, saying the Inspection Office had come up empty-handed and that, for the greater good, he was prepared to take responsibility himself.
What was that called?
A hint.
In the Heavenly Court, the higher a god's rank, the further his words floated above the smoke and fire of worldly life.
If the South Dipper Star Lord truly wanted to take responsibility, he would never have needed to bring up Wu Wen as his opening gambit.
Translated into plain language, bringing up Wu Wen meant just one thing: Do you want your son to live?
If he wanted his son to live, then he, Wude, had to shoulder the blame, surrender his Star Lord's seat, relinquish his military authority, and sit in the Heavenly Prison.
And if he refused?
Then Wu Wen would remain in the Heavenly Prison until his soul scattered into nothing.
This was an open scheme, and an inescapable death trap.
Of course Wude was unwilling to give up the power in his hands. But if he stubbornly resisted, not only would he lose his own son, the South Dipper Star Lord had the means to uproot him afterward anyway.
I can't retreat.
One step back is a bottomless abyss. If I want to live, I have to draw my sword!
The South Dipper Star Lord was in no hurry either.