Si Wuhui walked up to the wall, scooped up a handful of incense in both hands, and with a gentle flick of his wrist, the incense was lit.
"My brothers, what happened in Yucheng was entirely the doing of me, Si Wuhui alone. Today, the State of Wei is weak, the emperor is incompetent and foolish, and the imperial court is manipulated by treacherous villains. The common people live in dire straits, while officials and aristocratic families are rich beyond measure. I have the will to turn the tide, but alas, my hands are tied everywhere. To bring about ultimate harmony, we must burn our boats and cross the river; sacrifices are inevitable. I know there is hatred in your hearts—you wish nothing more than for me to never rise again in this lifetime or any other—but I cannot die yet. So, I ask you once more to lend me your strength."
With that, he thrust the bundle of incense into the incense burner. Then, holding a dagger in his left hand, he gripped the blade with his right and drew it firmly across, blood streaming down the metal. Si Wuhui placed his dripping right hand over the stack of white paper on the altar and clenched his fist tightly.
Chapter 471