The reason Emperor Jiang Yuan summoned He Ruo Qínhu into the palace was no other; it was because the all-pervading smoke and fires of war scattered across the land were making the emperor restless.
Although the combined forces of these rebel armies did not exceed one hundred thousand men, their frequency and density were alarming.
It looked terrifying.
He Ruo Qínhu felt a wave of disappointment in his heart.
He longed to throw up his sleeves and leave, but he couldn't.
His daughter had come to him in tears, revealing that she was pregnant with the emperor’s child, pleading with her father not to stand idly by.
Empress He Ruo, with tear-brimmed eyes, lamented: "Father, are you really willing to let your daughter and your grandchild perish in this chaotic world all for some empty fame?"
Even this steel-hearted general could not turn a blind eye to his daughter’s tearful plea.
She was his youngest daughter, the most cherished since birth, now with such a fate and the bond of bloodline with the emperor’s.
Despite his anger at Jiang Yuan’s actions, He Ruo Qínhu had no choice but to obey.
The emperor treated him with utmost respect and courtesy—offering him a seat and personally serving tea.