The biting cold wind of the Northern Frontier whipped against the cowhide canopy of the command tent, emitting a grating rustle like the screeching of countless vengeful spirits. Shen Mingyue’s hand faltered as she held her brush, and ink bled across the rice paper into a dark cloud, much like the tumultuous thoughts swirling in her mind. On the desk lay the scorched wooden tablet Gu Jinghong had brought back the previous night; the ferocious beast head carved into it seemed to mock their predicament. The charred edges of the wood still carried the faint, lingering scent of gunpowder, a constant reminder of the sinister nature of this conspiracy. She stared at the twisted carvings, her fingertips unconsciously stroking the brush handle; the cold sensation of the bamboo helped her slowly regain her composure.
"Your Highness, General Wang Meng is here again to request permission to conduct a thorough search of your private treasury," a guard’s voice came from outside the tent, edged with cautious probing. The freezing wind crept in through the gaps, making his voice tremble slightly. Shen Mingyue exchanged a glance with Gu Jinghong, who was leaning against a tiger-skin chair. A matching chill flashed in both their eyes—the fish had finally taken the bait. Gu Jinghong unconsciously rubbed the hilt of his sword, the coldness of the metal sharpening his senses, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. Shen Mingyue placed her brush on the stand; the movement seemed casual, ye…
Chapter 118