King Zhi and the other man's rebellion didn't concern Zheng Qiao.
Those two were nothing but defeated men of his.
Trash who had barely survived thanks to his mercy!
If he could win once, naturally he could win a second time.
What truly enraged Zheng Qiao was that among the Rebel Army taking part in the rebellion, there were men he trusted! His capable, trusted subordinates had actually chosen to betray him, betray his trust, and side with his enemies!
That was what Zheng Qiao couldn't tolerate!
If even the trusted men he'd promoted with his own hands were like this, then—
Zheng Qiao's gaze, laden with Killing Intent, swept over the assembled ministers. Every court official it fell upon felt as if needles were pricking their backs, unable to sit or stand at ease. It was as though an indistinct, sinister wind circled their fragile necks—or as if a venomous snake had fixed its gaze on them.
He pressed his pale lips tightly together. The fierce, bloodthirsty Killing Intent rampaging through Zheng Qiao's chest desperately sought an outlet.
"Do you have any countermeasures?"
Every word dripped with poison potent enough to seal a throat with blood.
The atmosphere froze until it was suffocating.
Several weaker officials nearly fainted and stopped breathing. Even those faring somewhat better had faces as white as snow. Seeing this, Zheng Qiao—who had been thunderously furious just a moment ago—suddenly broke into a smile as warm as spring sunshine. He rose and walked over to the white-haired official, who was trembling like a sieve.
The white-haired official kept his head bowed. When the square-toed brocade shoes at Zheng Qiao's feet entered his view, he was struck as if by lightning. His vision went black, and he collapsed to the floor, his wrinkled hands trembling uncontrollably.