Xuanfu, the emperor's palace.
Crash!
A priceless inkstone for calligraphy dropped to the ground, shattering into countless pieces.
"Imbeciles, all of you are imbeciles! With so many people, you can't even handle a minor second-class martial artist." The emperor's face was frigid, his tone agitated.
"We are guilty, your majesty."
Jiang Bin, the Metropolitan Commander of Xuanfu, Wang Zhi, and other high-ranking figures were all kneeling subserviently on the ground.
They remained motionless, allowing the emperor to smash priceless objects. Not daring to evade, they repeatedly confessed their guilt.
"You are not just guilty, you are incompetent." The emperor scolded.
"That Qian Ning is a total waste, incapable of capturing Pei Xuanjing despite having so many men. His own death doesn't bother me, but he has brought me shame."