His voice wasn't loud, only Old Master Yu could hear it.
Yet the deterrence it brought was like a thunderbolt, weighing heavily on one's shoulders.
Old Master Yu looked at him incredulously, his lips trembling fiercely, his complexion ghastly pale, "What... what did you say?!"
What did he mean by "it's not the first time you've committed patricide"?
Could it be that when Yu Xiheng was still an infant in swaddling clothes, he had already killed his own biological father?
Old Master Yu had always believed in the theory of Yin and Yang; otherwise, he wouldn't have invited Takeshita Takashi over.
Yu Xiheng didn't answer, just faintly said, "So alike."
This scene was all too familiar to him.
Fifteen hundred years ago, in the year 671 of the Xia calendar, when he was fourteen, he led troops into the palace and faced the inept old emperor, who knelt on the ground begging for mercy.