Lu Jin.
Uncle.
A name and title both foreign and familiar.
He existed in Chen Ji's world in a near-legendary way, thousands of miles away, but like the towering mountains by Spring Thunder Lake, impossible to ignore.
Only Chen Ji, Jin Zhu, and West Wind were left flipping through the official gazettes in Zhou Mansion's study.
West Wind sat upright in the Taishi chair, his demeanor indifferent and scornful, as if what he flipped through was not the official gazette but rather the memorials of the Jing Dynasty's various provincial governors.
Jin Zhu sat by the mahogany desk, put down his own gazette, and looked towards the opposite tiger mask, "Do you think the previous firearms explosion in Luocheng was due to infighting within the Jing Dynasty Military Intelligence Department?"
