I was given the contraceptive soup and became the emperor's white moonlight

"My Lord! My Lord! I really don't know anything!"

The surging anger almost swallowed him up, and even his dry eyes were bloodshot and red with anger, but he still spoke carefully and humbly. If he had not been hanging half to death, he would have kowtowed to him while holding Li Zhao's official boots.

"What's wrong?" Li Zhao raised his eyebrows, a malicious smile on his face, "I brought you a letter from home with good intentions, why are you unhappy?"

He took out the whip and tapped the man's cheek twice, admiring the despair and anger in the eyes of the man in front of him, and couldn't help laughing.

The man opened his mouth to say something but didn't expect Li Zhao to suddenly whip him in the face with a whip. Blood splattered everywhere and the man's words were interrupted by wailing.

Li Zhao took out a handkerchief and wiped the blood off his face. Instead of showing disgust, he smiled even more happily. He covered the man's face with his used handkerchief and said with a smile: "It pains me to see that you are so ungrateful."

The man had his head lowered, and the handkerchief fell off his face after only a moment. Li Zhao stepped on it without even looking at the handkerchief that was completely soaked with blood. The man looked at the smile of the person in front of him, and there was a small blood stain at the corner of his eye that had not been wiped clean. The handkerchief dragged a long tail, which elongated the end of his eye like a woman drawing her eyebrows, adding a bit of bloodthirstiness to his already frightening face.

The man's pupils trembled a little, and fear completely swallowed up all other emotions, as if the person standing in front of him was not a person, but the King of Hell in the Eighteen Levels of Hell.

Li Zhao felt his face was a little sticky and looked at his clothes again. Although it was a simple dark blue silk robe and the blood stains could not be seen, Li Zhao still felt very uncomfortable.

He casually threw the whip to the yamen runner beside him, turned away without saying a word, and the excitement on his face completely disappeared, turning into full disgust.

The two yamen runners were left staring at each other. The runner who caught the whip gave the man ten more whips without saying a word, then turned around and left with the other man.

This was the time when they were drinking and playing cards. If Li Zhao hadn't appeared suddenly, they would not have had the energy to deal with these bastards.

One of the yamen runners, who was in his thirties, was even more disdainful. He pointed at the man's cell and said to the man sitting opposite him, "Old Li, why is that old guy so stubborn? He refused to speak even after being asked so many times. I think he should be dead for doing something like that. So what if he agrees? He can still suffer a few days less."

The man sitting opposite him, called Lao Li, was obviously a few years older than him. He glanced towards the cell, shook his head and said, "How can it be that easy?"

"Don't you know what's going on in this prison? If the higher-ups want to investigate, the lower-ups will have to interrogate him thoroughly. Who cares if it's true or not..."

After saying those two words, Lao Li paused, then changed the subject and continued, "He didn't admit to beating him to death. If he really admitted, who was the boss? The reason and purpose, which one could a farmer like that make up?"

As he spoke, Lao Li couldn't help but shook his head. "Let's just focus on our work. Don't worry about things that you shouldn't worry about, and don't ask about things that you shouldn't ask. How come you don't understand this little truth?"

"Understood, understood!" The younger yamen runner hastily apologized with a smile and did not dare to mention the matter again. It was visibly apparent that he was somewhat afraid of Old Li.

As soon as Li Zhao went out, he couldn't wait to order his servants to prepare hot water for a bath. Wearing such dirty clothes, he really couldn't wait until he returned to his residence.

Fortunately, Li Zhao had this habit for a long time. Whenever he saw Li Zhao entering or leaving the imperial prison, he would prepare hot soup in advance without his instructions.

Although there was a place for rest and work in the backyard of the Dali Temple, all the files and memorials inside had to be kept intact, so a room was specially cleared out for Li Zhao to bathe. The room was not big, but it was more than enough to accommodate a half-person-high wooden barrel.

The hot steam brought moisture and warmth to the body struggling in the cold wind. Li Zhao took off his clothes and hung them on the rack, then walked into the wooden barrel.

The water temperature was a little high, but it was particularly comfortable in such a cold day. Even Li Zhao couldn't help but sigh. His body submerged in the water was particularly thin, with tight muscles without any fat. A scar could be vaguely seen on the right side of his lower abdomen.

In comparison, the criss-crossing scars on the back are more eye-catching. One of the scars alone shows that the wound must have been very deep.

The scars on his calves had faded a lot, but were still vaguely visible, not to mention the cuts left by the bow and arrows.

Li Zhao sank his entire body into the water, but still felt it was not enough, so he even sank his head. Even when he felt suffocated, he did not look up.

After a long time, he finally raised his head. Maybe it was because of the temperature of the water or because he was holding his breath, but his entire face and neck were red.

He took out the bath brush but did not use it on his back. Instead, he used his right hand to scrub vigorously. He did not stop until the skin on the back of his hand turned red.

At this time, the knife marks on the arms were revealed. Unlike other parts of the body, the scars on the arms were shallow and numerous, and could even be seen to be arranged in an orderly manner. What was even more strange was that most of these scars were on the inside of the arms.

After all the tossing and turning, Li Zhao finally stopped and leaned against the bathtub, closing his eyes to rest.

In fact, he had this habit for a long time, so long that it could be traced back to the first time he killed someone. However, his status was not high at that time, and no one cared whether he felt uncomfortable or not. He could only try his best to wash it. Even if he had time, he would mostly wash it in streams and rivers. Later, when he sat in his current position, his habit became a means for servants to please him.

Li Zhao didn't care whether his servants tried their best to please him. After all, he would not be swayed in the slightest by those guys' thoughts.

He was not so stubborn in other aspects. When he was on a mission, he would lie in a muddy puddle after a rain, and it was common for him to walk in the mountains for ten days or half a month without taking a bath.

There is only one thing that can touch his nerves, and that is blood!

He hated blood as much as he hated his right hand that held the knife.

But sometimes people cannot choose their own lives, just like they cannot choose their birth, family background, parents, siblings. They have inherited goals and responsibilities, and the righteousness of the family and the country has already been placed on their young shoulders from the moment they are born. They have no choice.

Perhaps Li Zhao was also a lucky man. At least he had made a name for himself in the world, and the legacy of his ancestors would soon come to an end. At that time, he would be able to freely choose the life he wanted.