When Zhang Xing returned home that day, he felt somewhat uneasy.
It was not the shock of hearing about "too late" and "something big"... he had anticipated this long ago; otherwise, he would not have rushed about seeking an appointment. Even though events had come so swiftly and urgently that his efforts had abruptly failed, it had not shaken him unduly.
What truly unsettled Zhang Xing was that moment when he had laid his hand on his saber.
At that moment, brief though it had been, his killing intent had been unmistakable... and such a reaction was far too dangerous.
Over these two years, Zhang Xing had personally witnessed the Great Wei Dynasty's major military defeats, discovered the grassroots social conflicts, regional conflicts, and class conflicts that had never eased in the slightest, and seen with his own eyes how the hairy sage's twisted character and ugly show of outward strength masking inward weakness had intensified conflicts within the ruling class. He had long since realized that Great Wei was indeed done for, that it would indeed stage that classic spectacle of a dynasty collapsing in its second generation.
Since Great Wei was going to collapse, and since he was going to the provinces to stir up trouble, there was no need to grow angry for nothing over things he had already foreseen, or over people who were in no short supply anywhere. Still less was there any need to pay a price for such people.
Yet at that moment, Zhang Xing's anger had surged, and he had still been unable to stop himself from reaching for his saber.
It was neither rational nor worthwhile.
If he really went down that road, there would be no end to the people he needed to kill.
But that evening, Zhang Xing, who