Lu Xian weighed the wooden box in his hand, about to speak, when suddenly, from the crowd, Lu Yu—current Duke of Lai—burst forward.
His round, flushed face was full of indignation and anger.
Lu Yu charged up to the front of Bai Changkong’s horse, pointing at Lu Xian and scolding harshly, “How did it come to this? How did it come to this? On such a joyous day, Lu Xian, you’ve driven Lord Zhao Yao to death! You, you, you…”
Lu Xian’s face dropped.
Looking at his outraged uncle, the Duke of Lai, Lu Xian said coldly, “Duke of Lai, are you plotting rebellion?”
That heavy accusation hit like a thunderclap.
Lu Yu took a step back, his voice hoarse as he retorted, “Nonsense! Lu Xian, how dare you slander me?”
Lu Xian sneered, “If you’re not planning a rebellion, then your dukedom of Lai is already the limit for a subject of the throne. There’s nowhere further to advance. Do you really need to bow and scrape before Bai Changkong—licking his boots, waving his banner, charging into battle for him?”
“The proud Duke of Lai, instead of nurturing your inner strength and enjoying the wealth and glory in your own mansion, you’re instead prancing and leaping about, freely colluding with the court ministers... If you’re not planning rebellion, then what on earth are you up to?”