The autumn wind was strong, and it whistled across the eight trigrams stage.
Chief advisor Wang's body seemed to shake from the wind.
After a long time, he opened his mouth and a hoarse voice came out of his throat. "He's also involved in King Huai's city-wide massacre, right?"
The supervisor didn't respond. His silence meant that he agreed tacitly.
The old man's face turned pale, and his eyes turned ashen.
"Why didn't you stop me?" Chief advisor Wang's voice was hoarse.
"This Empire is his, isn't it?" The director asked with a smile.
Chief advisor Wang was speechless. His eyes were filled with puzzlement and confusion. It was precisely because the country belonged to that person that it was even more incomprehensible and difficult to understand.
Until he stepped into the stargazing tower, and before this conversation, chief advisor Wang was still skeptical of his own guess.
"But this country also belongs to the common people," he added.
