The hall was dead silent.
In front of the central niche, incense smoke curled up, the candles flickered, casting bright flame patterns.
Cheng Chong silently arranged the ancestral tablets, clearing away the fallen ash on the high desk.
His hair was grey, his frame robust and sturdy. His breath was even and steady, draped casually in white hemp clothing, his demeanor as unfazed as a calm sea without a breath of wind, unconcerned with the turmoil his words had stirred.
Steam rose from the teacup.
Liang Qu's mind was in disarray, his gaze fixed on Cheng Chong's back.
Lian Jingye forcefully combed his fingers through his hair, pulling at the roots until they ached.
The collapse of Lord Qiu's Dyke, the flood waters that had raged for four days, devastating lives—the prime culprit was Gang Leader Cheng Chong?
He had instigated such a significant event behind the backs of the entire Shahe Gang!
Why?
What was he thinking?
What was he aiming for?
"My time is up!"
