Dongfang Nishang's voice wasn't loud, yet it rang out like spring thunder, clear as day to everyone on and beneath the high platform, and to every person in the square.
Almost everyone was stunned. Who else would dare say such a thing, aside from an elder of the Kunlun Sword Sect?
This was clearly an open secret, yet no one had ever discussed it.
The Four Great Sects each had their own schemes. They all wanted to claim a share of the spoils from the battle for the imperial capital—or even from the barbarian army.
But they had forgotten: if the barbarians really took Jinling City, who could wrest even a little benefit from Hu Feilong?
And whatever scraps remained would be a feast for the eldest prince, Wu Yu'an, and the pack of treacherous ministers who had sold out their country.
Qin Yu's face was expressionless as he gently tapped the railing with his palm.
He sent a voice transmission to Sima Jue beside him. "See? The Four Great Sects are nothing but a bunch of fools, too."
Sima Jue chuckled. "The mountain across the way is on fire. What's that got to do with me? I'll just watch the show."
The elders savored Dongfang Nishang's words, then all fell into a daze.
They turned their eyes toward Jinling City, wondering whether the battle before them had been won or lost.
If the army at Jinling Ferry lost, would the Four Great Sects be the ones to win next?
Just what kind of benefits could they actually claim?
Li Dalu withdrew his spiritual sense from the Kunlun Mountains and smiled faintly.
He turned and waved to Wang Xian. "Someone at the palace is waiting for your news. Xian'er and I will head back first. Once you've taken care