In a carriage that remained steady and unaffected by bumps,
Lin Wenruo sat alone with his fist clenched, his brow furrowed.
What preoccupied his mind was the news from the Hidden Guard that morning. In Luojing City, foreigners had been discreetly inquiring about the minutiae of the past debate on Confucianism, especially concerning the third session of pure conversation.
Moreover, the final spearhead and target were implicitly pointing towards Zhao Rong.
As it stood, they were not openly associated with Emperor Wei of the Langxi Qin clan.
The feathered guards had been watching the former two all along.
Lin Wenruo had figured them out.
As long as they came to Zhongnan Country, they were under his surveillance.
But these people who had suddenly appeared did not belong to the aforementioned groups and had not been within his sight before.
Where on earth did they come from?
He sent people to investigate, but these individuals vanished suddenly, just like slippery loaches.
