"What if what? You trying to steal it, kid?"
The butcher general's eyes widened, like a wild beast guarding its prey.
"No, no," the pedantic scholar quickly waved his hand.
"But this thing is of great importance. If it falls into the wrong hands, the consequences would be unimaginable."
General Chisha looked at the three men, secretly pleased with himself.
The imperial seal was a hot potato in his hands.
Now they've successfully thrown it away, and even sowed discord between them.
What a brilliant plan!
He yawned and said, feigning exhaustion,
"Alright, alright, enough talk, let's get out of here. I'm sleepy, I'm going back to sleep."
After saying that, he turned and left the tent, leaving the three of them to continue arguing.
General Chisha stepped out of the tent and stretched.
The cool morning breeze brushed against his face, clearing his muddled mind.
The alcohol from last night still causes a dull ache.
He rubbed his temples, silently calculating in his mind:
This rabble is nothing special; they're fighting tooth and nail over a broken box. It's laughable.
He heard hurried footsteps behind him; it was his trusted confidant, named Shalifei.
"General! I don't understand. We clearly got the Imperial Seal first, so why should we just hand it over to that butcher? I'm not willing to accept this!"
Shalifei looked indignant, his tone filled with deep doubt.
General Chisha stopped and glanced back at him, a contemptuous smile playing on his lips.
“Shalifei, you’re still too young. Can he handle that butcher? Our four-army alliance looks united, but it’s actually just a disorganized mess, with everyone having their own agenda.”
"Once Zhang's army arrives, do you think they'll risk their lives for that butcher? Dream on!"
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