One button after another was fastened, and the reflection of the brass buttons shimmered in the flickering torchlight, also reflecting the turbulent emotions in his eyes.
Cheng Muyun suddenly looked up at the crowd gathered outside the prison gate. Their faces showed the same resolute determination as his. Those familiar faces flickered in the firelight. His eyes suddenly welled up with tears, and his vision blurred.
He took the pistol from Zhang Qi, the cold metallic touch spreading through his palm.
He raised his gun, muzzle pointing upwards, his voice slow yet clear, like a heavy hammer striking a stone slab: "Gentlemen, what I am about to do is real murder and arson, utter and complete heresy. You... are you really willing to follow me?"
"Young Marshal!" Zhang Qi was the first to kneel on one knee, his iron boots slamming into the ground with a dull thud. "Your subordinate swears to follow me to the death!"
Before he finished speaking, the group of soldiers behind him knelt down in unison, the sound of armor clashing with guns making one's eardrums vibrate.
"Young Marshal, we must avenge Madam!"
"Young Marshal, those people should have rebelled long ago! They've made things difficult for you time and time again; we've had enough!"
The sounds, rising and falling, crashed against the walls of the cell, burning hot as if they were about to burst into flames.
As Cheng Muyun gazed at the dark mass of figures before him, tears finally welled up in his eyes and slid down his cheeks. He then closed his eyes tightly, and when he opened them again, all that remained was a resolute determination as firm as a rock.
He bowed deeply to the crowd, his waist bent very low, his voice choked with suppressed emotion: "Thank you all... for your trust."
As he stood up, he had suppressed all his weakness, raised his hand to tuck the gun into his waistband, and turned to walk towards the firelight outside the prison door.
Behind me, the sound of thousands of footsteps shattered the silence of the night.
As dusk settled, the gilded gates of the Luo Mansion rustled in the autumn wind as the paulownia leaves swirled, yet they could not drown out the sounds of string and wind instruments and the clinking of glasses emanating from within.
A red velvet carpet stretched from the entrance hall to the center of the banquet hall, while a crystal chandelier cast a dazzling light, making the fine wines and delicacies on the table even more enticing.
Chilled champagne bubbled with tiny bubbles, the scales of steamed shad shimmered with silver light, and the sauce from braised prawns solidified into an amber arc on a white porcelain plate.
Chairman Luo, seated at the head of the table, had just put down his jade wine glass. His thick fingers tapped lightly on the gleaming tabletop, and a smug smile still lingered in the corners of his eyes: "Cheng Muyun has completely botched this move. His reputation is utterly ruined. Once the special envoy from Nanjing arrives, he'll be out of office within three days!"
The high-ranking Nanjing official sitting to his left raised his glass, the gold buttons on his military uniform jingling: "Chairman Luo's strategic planning is admirable. This glass should be to you, and also to Mr. Miyata's great help."
Miyata Takejiro, whose name was called, bowed slightly, the cherry blossom embroidery on the cuffs of his kimono gleaming faintly under the light.
He spoke fluent Chinese, his tone deliberately gentle: "It is my honor to share your burdens. Cheng Muyun has been an obstacle for too long; it's time for him to understand that some walls cannot be broken down."
The crowd burst into laughter, and amidst the clinking of cups, no one noticed the sudden sound of hooves outside the window—not the usual light footsteps of the gatekeeper welcoming guests, but the roar of hundreds and thousands of warhorses crushing the bluestone slabs, mixed with the heavy thud of military boots pounding the steps, rolling across the night sky like muffled thunder.
"Bang!"
The carved wooden door was kicked open from the outside, and amidst the flying wood chips, Cheng Muyun's figure stood in the doorway against the light from the corridor.
His eyes were incredibly bright, like knives chilled to the bone.
The noise in the banquet hall froze instantly.
Chairman Luo's smile froze in mid-air, and the wine glass in his hand crashed onto the carpet with a "clatter," leaving dark stains from the wine.
The Nanjing official abruptly pressed down on the pistol at his waist, his knuckles turning white.
The gentleness on Miyata Takejiro's face vanished completely, and his hand quietly reached for the pistol in the inner pocket of his kimono.
Cheng Muyun's gaze swept over the mess on the table, finally settling on the faces that showed shock, panic, or a forced composure.
He suddenly curled the corners of his mouth, lifted his foot, and his gleaming black leather shoe slammed onto the edge of the dining table with a thud, the carved heel crushing a silver platter filled with caviar.
“Perfect,” his voice wasn’t loud, but it pierced the silence like an icicle, carrying undisguised sarcasm, “Everyone’s here, I don’t need to look for them one by one.”
As soon as he finished speaking, dozens of guards dressed in black entered from the shadows behind him, their guns pointed steadily at everyone in the banquet hall.
The light from the crystal chandelier reflected a cold gleam onto Cheng Muyun's leather shoes, perfectly complementing the chill in his eyes.
Chairman Luo slammed his hand on the table, the mahogany surface groaning under the weight. He stood up abruptly, veins bulging on his shiny forehead, and roared, "Cheng Muyun! You dared to break out of prison!"
Cheng Muyun slowly brandished the Browning pistol in his hand, the cold glint of the barrel sweeping across everyone's faces. His tone was nonchalant yet chilling: "What wouldn't I dare to do?"
He paused, his black leather shoes stomping harder on the table. "This tiny police station cell, with four walls and a lock, is it fit to imprison me?"
Chairman Luo's gaze was fixed on the muzzle of the gun, and his Adam's apple bobbed violently.
The news that Cheng Muyun had killed and set fire to the Cheng family ancestral hall last night had already reached his ears, and the thought of that madness still sent chills down his spine.
He forced a menacing stance, but his voice trembled like an autumn leaf in the wind: "What do you want here? I have distinguished guests from Nanjing here! Tell your men to put down their guns, or else—"
"Otherwise what?"
Cheng Muyun suddenly laughed, but the smile didn't reach his eyes at all. His gaze passed over Chairman Luo and landed precisely on the pale-faced Nanjing official, a mocking curve appearing at the corner of his mouth.
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