810 wants him to solve it

Han Zhao said this and moved to the side of the window to push it open slightly.

Through the slit, no wider than two fingers, Emperor Yue saw outside the Imperial Study Room, countless people kneeling under the torrential rain.

The summer rain was extremely fierce, drenching these people from head to toe, some already leaning askew from the downpour, particularly Official Liu at the front.

Being of advanced age, such harsh conditions were clearly a tremendous trial for him; his body swayed as if he could collapse at any moment.

A bolt of lightning split the dark sky.

It illuminated the pale faces of those people, making them especially distinct, their official robes soaked and turned a dark, heavy color.

At first glance, they resembled a group of ghostly figures in black, prostrate on the ground, demanding lives.

The muscles on Emperor Yue's face twitched incessantly until he finally clenched the teacup in his hand and hurled it fiercely to the floor.