Chapter 294: Outrageous

Chapter 294: Audacity

"Agh—!!!" A miserable shriek tore through the hall. The official yanked his hand back.

He clutched his hand, where a wound so deep it exposed the bone, curling up on the ground in agony, howling like a stuck pig.

Everyone: "!!!"

In an instant, the entire main hall fell into a deathly silence. The music abruptly stopped. The singing girls and musicians knelt in terror, trembling violently.

The smiles on all the officials' faces froze instantly as they stared at the scene before them in disbelief.

Lian Wujing paused, the teacup in his hand lightly trembling, a flicker of barely perceptible malice flashing in his eyes.

At that moment, the air itself seemed to solidify, filled with the suffocating silence and tension before a storm.

The entire hall was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, broken only by the stifled cries and ragged breaths of the injured official.

Shards of the shattered white jade cup were scattered across the table, mirroring the shattered composure of everyone present.

All eyes were fixed on the young censor who slowly rose to his feet.

His earlier silence had now transformed into a tangible, icy killing intent that permeated the air, weighing on everyone's chest.

Lian Wujing set down his teacup, his fingertips lightly tapping against the rim in a steady rhythm, trying to regain control.

His voice remained calm, but now carried a barely noticeable chill: "Censor Cheng, what is the meaning of this?

It was merely a joke. Why get so worked up over it? You're overreacting and hurting collegial harmony."

"An overreaction?" Cheng Ge repeated softly, the corner of his mouth curling into the faintest hint of a smile.

He raised his eyes, his gaze like a blade forged in ice, slowly sweeping across every face in the room, finally settling on Lian Wujing.

Just as Lian Wujing felt an inexplicable tightness in his chest under that gaze, Cheng Ge raised his hand and gestured lightly.

"BAM—!" The doors of the hall were slammed open from the outside, the heavy wooden doors crashing against the walls with a resounding bang!

At the same time, countless black-clad figures smashed through the windows from the outside, bursting through!

The clatter of armor instantly filled the space! Hundreds of soldiers in black iron armor surged in.

They wielded drawn longswords, swiftly sealing off all exits. The thick, metallic aura of blood and steel replaced the earlier smells of wine and meat.

"Ah—!" The screams of the dancers and musicians were choked back by the soldiers' icy stares, reduced to fearful whimpers.

The officials had never faced such a scene. Their earlier arrogance was shattered, replaced by boundless fear and panic.

"Cheng Ge! What... what do you think you're doing?!" one official shrieked, his voice trembling uncontrollably.

"We are imperial officials of the court! How dare you, you insolent whelp?!" another official pointed at Cheng Ge, his finger trembling, his face ashen.

Lian Wujing shot to his feet, the false calm on his face finally cracking, and he barked, "Lord Cheng! Bringing armored soldiers into a banquet—what exactly are you up to?!"

Cheng Ge ignored all the accusations and threats. He tilted his chin slightly upward, his expression a nearly indifferent coldness.

He lifted his foot, mercilessly stepping on the official still writhing and howling on the ground.

With a little pressure, the official's cries were cut short, reduced to painful convulsions.

Cheng Ge kicked him into a corner like troublesome garbage.

His gaze swept across the faces twisted in fear, as if regarding livestock awaiting slaughter, before finally settling on Lian Wujing again.

The icy smile on his lips deepened, and he enunciated clearly: "Naturally... I'm here to send you gentlemen on your final journey."

A military officer, furious beyond reason, stepped forward and yelled:

"How dare you! Do you know where you are? This isn't your place to..."

"How dare I?" Cheng Ge let out a low laugh, as if he had just heard something utterly ridiculous.

The laughter echoed through the deathly silent hall, sending chills down everyone's spines.

Before the laughter faded, he moved like lightning! Before anyone could react, a flash of blade light erupted!

He had drawn the sword directly from a nearby soldier's waist. The blade, reeking of the battlefield's blood, cut through the air with a fierce howl!

A single flash of the blade! The expression on that official's face hadn't even had time to change before a line of blood split him in two from head to toe.

The next moment, blood sprayed like a burst waterskin! Entrails spilled all over the floor, and a thick, sickening stench of blood exploded in the air!

"Ah—!!!" This time, countless people let out blood-curdling screams.

Some officials fainted from sheer terror; many more collapsed, their legs giving way.

Even worse, some wet themselves, the stench of urine mingling with blood. The air filled with sounds of vomiting and pleas for mercy.

Cheng Ge held the sword, dripping blood. Crimson blood trickled down the spine of the blade, dripping onto the ground and forming a pool of crimson.

He tilted his head, a reckless smile curling on his lips.

The bloody tip of the sword rose, steadily resting against Lian Wujing's neck. "Lord Lian..."

Cheng Ge's voice was soft, as soft as a lover's whisper, yet carried a resolute madness. "By nature, I am exactly this insolent."

Lian Wujing's eyes widened in shock!

At the West Market Execution Ground in Yuanzhou, a massive, dark crowd swarmed the area, packed to overflowing.

The commoners stood on tiptoe, craning their necks, their clamorous discussions rising like a boiling tide.

On every face was a mix of surprise and a trace of inexplicable excitement.

In the center of the square, white funeral banners fluttered in the wind, their stark white reflecting the gloomy sky.

Two large nanmu coffins stood like silent mountains at the very front.

Behind the coffins were countless layers of spirit tablets, stacked densely, numbering in the thousands roughly.

On the new wooden tablets, unfamiliar names were written in cinnabar, their red surprisingly vivid against the pale white banners.

A solemn and mournful aura pressed down, almost suffocating.

Cheng Ge sat upright on a temporary armchair. His censor's robe hung loosely on his thin frame.

A rough strip of white cloth was tied around his arm. His face was pale to the point of translucency.

Only his eyes, pitch-black like an unfathomable abyss, blazed with icy flame.

He sat quietly, as if becoming one with the thousands of wronged souls behind him.

Before him, hundreds of officials from Chengping Province, who had once been high and mighty, were now kneeling on the ground, their hands tied behind them, forced to their knees.

Their official hats were askew, their robes disheveled and covered in dust. Their faces were ashen, and their bodies trembled like leaves.

Those who tried to struggle or curse were immediately struck hard on the back with a scabbard by the fierce armored soldiers behind them, groaning in pain.

Lian Wujing knelt at the front of the officials, forcing himself to straighten his back, trying to maintain his last shred of dignity.

When the noise of the crowd died down a bit, Cheng Ge slowly stood up.

He did not look at the kneeling officials but turned to face the countless commoners around him.

His gaze swept over the faces—some numb, some expectant, some angry.

He reached out, took a thick scroll from Wufeng's hand, and slowly unrolled it.