Whether or not Wang Xuan had caught them red-handed, Guan Yu and Gan Ning were genuinely glad he had arrived. At the very least, from this moment on, these headaches had nothing to do with them anymore. They could return to being generals. As for whether the Jiangling clans lived or died, what did it have to do with them...
Let politics be politics.
In Jiangling, when the morning sun rose once more, the entire city fell silent. It was as though an erupting volcano had instantly turned into a frozen hell.
Everything stemmed from a single message spreading through the city: Wang Xuan had arrived!
Life or death would soon be decided, and everyone waited for judgment.
Everyone understood that before Wang Xuan arrived, Guan Yu and the others had not dared to launch a full-scale massacre. At most, anyone who went into the streets without permission would be killed. As for storming into homes and slaughtering people, that had been impossible.
Yes, although the casualties in a single day had reached forty thousand, in the eyes of the great clans, that did not count as a massacre. Or rather, under the current political system, it did not count as one.
To put it bluntly, those forty thousand were nothing more than a string of nameless data.
That was not a figure of speech. It was a fact—they had no names.
In the history books, it would amount to no more than a few words: Jiangling was breached, the entire city descended into chaos, and many people died.
Only the deaths of those with fame and stature throughout the realm—even if there was just one of them—would count as a true massacre, worthy of being recorded as a major event in the history books and remembered by later generations.