The night was cold and desolate.
Inside the gambling den.
A burly man with a face full of fleshy jowls was pushing tiles, his eyes bloodshot, just about to shove his pile of fragmented silver forward.
"Snap."
A large hand pressed down on his wrist.
The man flew into a rage, just about to curse, but when he turned around, he saw it was a colleague from the Demon Suppression Bureau.
That man's black clothes were already neatly put on, his waist saber hung properly, and his expression was solemn.
"Stop pushing, something's happened."
"What could possibly happen? Laozi's got the Heavenly Tile this hand..."
The man lowered his voice, speaking just one sentence: "The newly arrived Commander wants to kill people."
The man's hand trembled.
The Heavenly Tile dropped to the ground.
Without another word, he grabbed the silver on the table, stuffed it into his bosom, turned around, and ran.
Similar scenes were playing out all over Longyou.
Those whose belts were not yet tied pushed aside their powdered paramours and charged outside.
Those drunk out of their minds were shocked awake by a bucket of well water poured over their heads, cursing as they grabbed their sabers and mounted their horses.
On the official road, the sound of horse hooves rolled like muffled thunder, making the earth tremble slightly.
If one stood at a height and looked down.
One could see several fire dragons winding forward across the vast earth.
Torches snapped and popped, illuminating one grim and murderous face after another.
The white steam snorted from the Crimson-Eyed Stallion did not dissipate in the cold night.
Except for the personnel necessary to garrison and defend the cities.
Everyone else, no matter where they were or what they were doing.
All headed in the same direction.
Qinzhou.