Zhao Feng stared at the envoy's mangled, bloody head.
Despite showing little expression, his violently heaving chest betrayed his true emotions. The entire crowd fell silent, and one could hear a pin drop in the hall.
Even the strategists who had initially wanted to urge reason shut their eyes in despair.
Anyone with a normal brain could see that something about this was strange. Given Wu Xian's temperament, no matter how great his ambitions were or how badly he wanted to stab his former allies in the back, he would never leave himself no room to maneuver! Beheading the envoy had gone far too far!
It was hard to say that no one had meddled behind the scenes, stirring up conflict between Kang and Gao.
But it was too late to say anything now.
If they could swallow the murder and beheading of their own envoy, what would the soldiers fighting on the Northern Desert battlefield think? How would they control public sentiment, already unsettled by the outbreak of war? Anyone who dared urge peace would be drowned in spit!
"Great General, that brat from Gao Country thinks our Kang Country has no one!" One of Zhao Feng's hot-tempered subordinates slammed the table. "They've gotten so arrogant that they've climbed onto our heads to shit and piss! If we don't send troops to string them up, what will the common folk at home think of us, the Yuheng Guard? What will the other six guards and four corps think of us? What will all our civil and military colleagues at court think? Anyway, I'm too ashamed to show my face outside!"
A weak voice offered a tentative objection from within the hall.
"...This could also be the Northern Desert shifting the blame eastward..."
"Shifting the blame eastward? The night raid