"He lost to him… he gave in to him…"
When Mr. Zhengyang, in a calm tone, pointed at Zhao Douan and spoke these words, the expressions of almost everyone present froze.
Their minds went blank for a moment, their thoughts interrupted, and a brief sense of bewilderment arose.
"Mr. Zhengyang, what did you just say… What? You admit defeat? You lost to…?"
Walking beside the pavilion, the Sacrificial Official Mei of the Imperial College, acting as the "host," nearly stumbled and lost his composure. He stammered as he asked, trying to confirm, doubting whether he had heard wrong.
Mr. Zhengyang's demeanor remained calm as he repeated the two sentences once more.
It was true; there was no mistake.
"Whoa—"
As expected, the surrounding scholars and some officials who had come to watch were visibly disturbed, letting out loud questions and exclamations of shock.
The few old acquaintances sitting next to Zhao Douan were particularly astounded.
