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The next day, in Yujing City, the Honglu Institute.
Zhao Chongyin stood at the entrance of the courtyard, taking in the pungent smell of blood, his eyebrows tightly furrowed.
Minister of Rites Zhu Yongfang and Wang Yangyu of the Honglu Institute stood to one side, their faces equally grave. No one had expected to receive such shocking news early in the morning.
Mu Jin Dharma King and Zongzheng Yuan had been killed in the dead of night, and what was crucial was that no one knew about it until their bodies were discovered in the morning.
Surrounding them were dozens of Houjin experts, their faces ashen and contorted with grief.
Besides them, a man dressed in a black cape stood outside the gate.
The man appeared to be in his early forties, his countenance as indifferent as water. Whenever he looked at someone, it felt as though one was being eyed by a ferocious beast, making their heart race.
