The civil and military officials returned to their seats one by one, sitting upright with grave expressions.
Some lifted their teacups only to set them down again. Some stroked their beards in thought. Some closed their eyes to rest, while others secretly watched Lin Mo.
Lin Mo returned to his seat and sat down.
The hem of his bluish-gray dragon robe spread across the chair. He leaned against the chair back, crossed one leg over the other, and reached for the chopsticks on the table.
The table was laden with sumptuous dishes—braised abalone, Braised Sea Cucumber, steamed leopard coral grouper, roasted suckling pig...
Lin Mo picked up a piece of braised abalone, put it into his mouth, chewed, and nodded.
Not bad.
He took another piece of roasted suckling pig. The skin was crisp and the meat tender, its rich juices filling his mouth. Then he picked up some steamed leopard coral grouper, its flesh fresh and tender enough to melt in his mouth.
He ate at an unhurried pace, chewing every bite carefully. Every so often, he raised his wine cup for a sip, looking as relaxed as though he were dining in his own restaurant.
The civil and military officials around him, all sitting rigidly upright, watched this scene with faintly twitching mouths.
The Emperor's life and death were unknown, the Crown Prince's face was livid, and the entire hall was filled with murderous tension—yet this Earl of Southern Pacification could still eat?
Lin Mo seemed utterly unaware—or rather, he simply did not care.
The hall was quiet, filled only with the faint clinking of bowls and chopsticks and the sound of Lin Mo chewing.
The sounds were especially clear in the vast hall, like a stone dropped into a calm lake, sending ripples spreading outward.
Everyone watched