Chapter 61 Imprisonment

As dusk fell, the cold wind grew increasingly biting. The candle flame beside the Duke of Dingguo flickered slightly, casting its light upon his gloomy face.

His gaze was profound, a trace of icy chill flashing deep within his eyes.

Today, not only would he restrict Zhao Rong's activities, but he would also thoroughly sever all of the Zhao family's remaining paths of retreat, beginning with the house arrest of Zhao Rong.

"My Lord, all preparations are complete," a trusted confidant reported in a low voice, waiting respectfully by the door.

The Duke of Dingguo nodded, slowly withdrawing his gaze from the snowy scenery outside the window, and gave a cold sneer. "Then, let us begin."

Zhao Rong had not anticipated that he would be treated in such a manner.

The plan that was supposedly arranged for him to spend his twilight years in peace had instead become a trap for his house arrest.

Outside the gates of the Zhao residence, the biting wind howled and white snow fluttered through the air.

The normally bustling Zhao estate was as quiet as death today.

Several stern-faced imperial guards, leading a detachment of elite soldiers, quietly entered the compound.

"What are the imperial guards doing here?"

Seated in his study, Zhao Rong held a cup of warm tea, his cold gaze fixed upon the window ahead.

Advanced in age, he was no longer as impetuous as he had been in his youth, but his composed and unfathomable majesty remained undiminished.

"Reporting to Your Excellency, this is by the Emperor's command," an imperial guard commander stepped forward, saying in a low voice. "By imperial decree, the Duke of the Guard is to be placed under temporary house arrest, and all communication with the outside world is strictly forbidden."

Zhao Rong raised his head, his brows furrowing slightly as a cold sneer touched the corner of his lips. "So that is it. Is His Majesty the Emperor afraid that I might disrupt his stable dominion?"

The imperial guard commander said nothing more, merely lowering his head respectfully.

Zhao Rong raised his right hand, gently rubbing the teacup in his grip as if pondering something.

Without further speech, he merely waved his hand. "Since it has come to this, go and inform all the servants. There is no need for alarm; everyone shall simply tend to their proper duties."

"Understood, Your Excellency." The imperial guard commander said no more, immediately withdrawing from the study with his men.

Meanwhile, in another room within the estate, the Duke of Dingguo had already initiated his next move—

Cutting off the military supplies of the Black Tiger Army.

"Transmit my order: begin the embargo immediately."

Staring at the bamboo slip in his hand, the Duke of Dingguo flashed a cold look in his eyes. "It is time to see whether Zhao Ang's strength in the northern frontier can truly sustain that formidable Black Tiger Army."

"Understood, my Lord." The confidant accepted the order and turned to leave.

The Black Tiger Army had achieved consecutive victories in the northern frontier, their morale sweeping across the vast lands and their reputation shaking the realm.

Yet, precisely for this reason, Zhao Ang had gradually become a source of instability within the imperial court.

The Duke of Dingguo knew well that if the Zhao family's power continued to swell, the entire imperial court would ultimately suffer the consequences.

Lowering his head slightly, his gaze growing increasingly icy, he tapped his fingers against the desk. "Zhao Ang, you may have achieved towering merits, but without logistical support, you are nothing more than a man of empty courage."

"Let us see how quickly the northern army finds itself in dire straits."

A sinister smile curved the corner of the Duke of Dingguo's mouth. All of this was the result of his meticulous planning.

The wind and snow in the northern frontier grew increasingly fierce, the campfires outside the tents swaying in the gale and casting flickering shadows over Zhao Ang's face.

Standing before the map, his gaze as sharp as a falcon's, his finger traced slowly across the parchment before pausing at a location marked "Supply Line."

That hand, seemingly casual, carried an invisible force, as if a gentle press could shake the very earth.

"Your Highness, news from the capital still has not arrived."

Yang Mu lifted the tent flap and stepped inside, his face etched with anxiety. "The messengers sent out days ago have also vanished without a trace. I fear..."

Zhao Ang raised his head, lifting an eyebrow slightly with a hint of coldness in his eyes. "You fear what?"

Yang Mu spoke in a low voice, "I fear that someone in the capital has already made a move."

Hearing this, Zhao Ang curved his lips into a faint smile, devoid of any warmth.

"A move? They certainly have the patience. It seems my victories have made certain people unable to sit still."

He reached out, picked up an unsent letter from the table, and slowly unfolded it.

The handwriting on the paper was clear and vigorous, every stroke imbued with a sharp edge.

This was the letter he had written to his grandfather, the Duke of the Guard, originally intended to report their victories, but the messenger had never returned.

Thus, he knew that this letter would likely never reach his grandfather's hands.

"Uncle Yang, do you know?"

Zhao Ang lowered his head and chuckled softly, his tone full of self-mockery. "I have done many absurd things in my life, and many people called me a prodigal, deeming me unequal to heavy responsibilities. Yet only my grandfather never doubted me."

He folded the letter and placed it back into the envelope, a profound depth lingering in his gaze.

"Now, however, this letter cannot even reach him. I fear I have let him down."

Hearing this, Yang Mu's heart tightened, and he quickly said, "Your Highness, the Duke of the Guard has always held you in high regard. No matter how fierce the external storms may be, he will believe in you."

Zhao Ang looked at Yang Mu, a faint, ambiguous smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"Trust? Uncle Yang, trust is the most fragile thing of all. When all connections are severed, and all paths of retreat are blocked, how long do you think trust can endure?"

He turned slowly, his gaze sweeping over the generals in the tent, his voice low yet resolute.

"Our current predicament is precisely that of the birds being gone, the bows are put away; the hares being dead, the hounds are cooked. They have already made their move, and next, they will stop at nothing."

Zhang Shan could not help stepping forward, indignant. "Your Highness, those people have gone too far! The Black Tiger Army is shedding blood in bitter battles up north, yet they are cutting off our logistics behind our backs? This is clearly driving us to our deaths!"

Zhao Ang smiled coldly, a trace of mockery flashing in his eyes. "Cutting off military supplies? That was inevitable. To them, I, Zhao Ang, am merely a chess piece. Winning a few games is fine, but winning too many turns me into a threat."

As he spoke, he slowly walked over to the map, his finger tapping lightly upon the northern frontier's border line.

"Yet they seem to have forgotten that this chess piece called Zhao Ang is not something they can discard at whim."

Yang Mu frowned and asked, "Your Highness, what should we do next? If there are still no supplies, I am afraid..."

Zhao Ang raised a hand to interrupt him, his voice tinged with a chilling sharpness. "If there are no supplies, we will find a way ourselves. The barbarian tribes have plenty of provisions; we will simply seize them."

Zhang Shan's eyes lit up, and he said excitedly, "Your Highness is right! Those barbarians' provisions were stolen from us in the first place, so we ought to take them back!"

Zhao Ang nodded, his gaze turning even sharper and colder. "Not just provisions, but their territory as well. We must make the barbarians understand that the northern frontier belongs to the Zhao family. We must also let those people in the capital see that even in utter isolation, I, Zhao Ang, am not someone they can casually abandon!"

With that, he whirled around to face Yang Mu and Zhang Shan, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.

"Pass down the order: assemble the entire army. Within three days, I want to see the barbarians' grain and supplies transported to our camp!"

Yang Mu and Zhang Shan acknowledged the command in unison and hurried away.

Zhao Ang watched their retreating figures, his gaze growing increasingly deep.

Outside the tent, the wind and snow continued to rage, yet a fire was burning fiercely within his heart.

"Emperor Jing, Duke of Dingguo..."