The cold iron token flipped over in Qin Lie's palm, the fierce wolf-head relief characteristic of the Northern Desert Royal Court digging into his fingertips, rough and heavy.
Half an account book lay unfolded on the table. The ink had been deliberately smeared and blurred, but the remaining numbers and armory entries were still shocking to behold.
The charcoal fire in the room crackled, yet it failed to dispel the oppressive atmosphere permeating the air, a mixture of the smell of blood, sweat, and conspiracy.
Chapter 126