Zhao Rong was not a man without discernment.
But even he had witnessed the grandeur of a hundred thousand nationals bidding farewell on the outskirts of Zhongnan Country, with willow branches breaking every ten miles.
Faced with this bustling celebration, where a widow and her orphan child standing at the highest point of Great Li were joined by nearly three hundred thousand civilians to welcome him, Zhao Rong couldn't help but be amazed.
He rode at the front of the procession, with Zhao Qian'er and Gu Yiwu lagging a step behind on either side.
Behind them rode the students of Justice Hall.
Zhao Rong looked forward and saw that the royal road leading to the Capital's gates was empty, whereas the roadsides were packed with tens of thousands of Hanjing citizens.
A tumultuous noise filled the air.
On the spacious road that could accommodate five to six carriages abreast, bright red and purple carpets were laid out, stretching for miles with no end in sight.
