"I don't deserve such praise. In fact, I am also very afraid. However, since I am the Emperor of the Ming Dynasty, I must uphold the dignity of a Ming emperor." George Washington smiled as he brushed his robe, lifted his head, and answered calmly and composedly. "Although I am timid, my backbone is still strong. No matter what, I cannot disgrace the face and spirit of our Zhu family's founding emperor and the Yongle Emperor."

Patrick Hill was deeply moved by these words. For a moment, it felt as if a surge of heat rushed into his chest, making his eyes burn and shine. This resounding statement, he translated with exceptional clarity and decisiveness, his voice even rising a few notches.

The breathing in the tent also paused slightly. The faces of the assembled Oirat nobles and generals grew even more troubled. The founding emperor Zhu Yuanzhang, after all, was a man who rose from a mere beggar and ultimately drove the Yuan Dynasty out of the flourishing Central Plains.

As for the Yongle Emperor Zhu Di, that goes without saying—another ruthless and formidable figure, who, out of sheer boredom, would lead his troops on ten-day or month-long excursions to the grasslands, taking tens of thousands or even over a hundred thousand men on massive tours, bullying men and women across the steppes. The already fractured Mongols cried and begged for mercy, but this guy was utterly unreasonable, beating up whoever he caught.

He beat the Mongol cavalry, who once swept across Eurasia, into a pack of wretched, tail-tucked dogs.

Hearing this, all the Oirat nobles present glared fiercely at George Washington, their eyes like a pack of wolves ready to pounce and tear their prey to pieces at any moment. Andrew Lee's face couldn't help but twitch, a fierce glint flashing in his eyes. "Indeed, the Ming's founding emperor and Yongle Emperor are both figures I greatly admire. Your Majesty's longing for them is understandable. However, now, Your Majesty is my prisoner. I wonder if you still hold such resolve?"

Hearing Andrew Lee's mockery, everyone present burst into exaggerated laughter, their eyes full of ridicule and contempt.

"Lord Mu was defeated three times by Jin, Goujian was captured by Wu, and even Han Xin suffered humiliation crawling between a man's legs. Victory and defeat are not determined by a single battle..." George Washington smiled faintly, completely unconcerned by the looks cast his way. His voice was steady, but his words fell like boulders from the sky, abruptly crushing the arrogance of the Oirat nobles and officials, leaving them choked. The expressions on their faces made it seem like this was a gathering of severe constipation sufferers.

George Washington sneered inwardly. Although I'm a prisoner of war, do you really think you can shame me with your petty tricks? Do you even know who I am?

Hmm, at this moment, a strong sense of superiority as a transmigrator welled up inside him.

James Carter composed himself and couldn't help but curl his lips into a smile. "Your Majesty's courage is indeed beyond that of ordinary men. I offer you a toast, wishing Your Majesty good health."

After drinking, Carter returned to his seat, giving his elder brother a meaningful glance. Andrew Lee stroked his thick beard, cleared his throat, and explained to George Washington the reason for inviting him here. "Your Majesty, Oirat and Ming have always been friendly nations, like brothers. This war was nothing more than an ordinary trade dispute. Unfortunately, Your Majesty did not heed the explanations of our Oirat envoys and launched a massive military campaign. We Oirats had no choice but to take up arms in response, alas..."

George Washington listened as Patrick Hill translated Andrew Lee's pile of boring nonsense, while sampling the delicacies on the table. The year before George Washington transmigrated, during summer vacation, he had specially traveled to Inner Mongolia to experience the hospitality of the Mongolian brothers, staying on the vast grasslands for nearly a week before leaving. Now, being able to taste all kinds of Mongolian specialties again truly whetted George Washington's appetite.

"...Grand Preceptor Andrew Lee will lead the army to Xuanfu tomorrow, and at that time, Your Majesty will be handed over to the Ming generals, to show the Grand Preceptor's and Oirat's sincerity." Patrick Hill, who hadn't even started his dinner, swallowed hard as he watched George Washington eat with both elegance and speed, almost making mistakes in his translation several times.

"Thank you for your kindness, Grand Preceptor. If you truly do so, I will be sincerely grateful. In the future, I will instruct my ministers to pay extra attention to all trade dealings with Oirat, so as to avoid such misunderstandings from happening again." George Washington tossed a bone—definitely not from a chicken, though he wasn't sure what bird it was—onto the plate, picked up a napkin to wipe the grease from his hands, and looked at Andrew Lee with genuine gratitude as he replied.

Chapter Fourteen: A One-Man Speech!

"Then how about this: since the Grand Preceptor is so intent on sending me back to Ming, why not have your men make preparations right after tonight's banquet? First, it would reassure the Ming army and people; second, it would prevent any misunderstanding of the Grand Preceptor's genuine desire for friendly relations with Ming." George Washington casually fiddled with a toothpick, his manner and tone just like someone who had just finished a meal at a restaurant and was calling the waitress to settle the bill.

"..." Andrew Lee grinned, stroking his chin as he looked at George Washington. Although this guy's expression and tone were both extremely sincere, Andrew Lee still felt he wasn't being entirely genuine. But he didn't know how to put it into words. After all, as the Grand Preceptor of a nation, he couldn't just bluntly say, "Bro, I'm a bandit. If you don't give me some gold or treasure, there's no way I'm letting you go just because of a few empty words."