As night deepened, the Da Xin Publishing House building was brightly lit. Outside, armed soldiers stood guard every few steps along the main gate and the surrounding walls.
A full three hundred men worked in three shifts, guarding the place day and night. All this was because Lu Jingyao’s safety was being personally overseen by Lu Yun.
A group of vicious-looking men, some with gunshot wounds, stormed in. They were covered in blood, their clothes torn in places, with more blood seeping from the holes.
In recent issues, he’d even torn into the traitorous compradors, a verbal assault so vicious he might as well have cursed their ancestors eighteen generations back.
"Brother Niu, go down and tell Brother Li and the others to go home. No need to rush the manuscripts, they can take their time."
The hallway wall was blown apart. The female editor, standing near it, felt a massive force slam into her, burying her under a pile of rubble.
"Luckily, I broke through to become a Grandmaster of Huajin. Otherwise, I might have actually died under that hail of bullets today!"
On the second floor, in Lu Jingyao’s office, he stood at the window looking down at the patrolling soldiers in the courtyard below, then sighed softly.
A thought flashed through her mind.
"So, I’m afraid I didn’t have time to bring a gift."
But at this hour, most had gone home, leaving only a few who were voluntarily working late.
"You have no idea. Those guys all say in private that working with you has made their lives worthwhile."
In the end, the Weiyuan Thirteen Eagles Gang lost six Hall Masters, and the Ba Fuxi Bang lost one high-level member.
Since Niu Dagang was standing closest to the door, he also stared in confusion at the square object in the hallway.
The kid spent all day writing offensive articles, criticizing one person after another. He went from criticizing warlords to the Western World, and from the Western World to the Emperor.
He’d made enemies across the land, so if Lu Yun didn’t station a heavy guard here, he wouldn’t be able to sleep at night.
Tan Chen was swearing under his breath, "Damn it, those men are insane! They charged like they had a death wish!"
Tan Chen’s gaze landed on Lu Jingyao, and a sinister smile spread across his face. "Young Master Lu, my apologies. Our meeting today is a bit... hurried."
She wore a simple blue cheongsam and had a delicate, quiet air about her.
In the next instant, a brilliant flash of light erupted. An indescribable shockwave, like an invisible tidal wave, swept through the area!
The bookshelves were crammed with all sorts of books and newspapers, from old periodicals of the Yin Dynasty to translated works from the Western World, from classical literature to modern school textbooks—they had practically everything.
In a corner, three desks were pushed together. Three male editors were buried in their writing. Occasionally, one would stop, frown at his manuscript, strike out a few lines, and then continue writing.
He was bleeding from his face, his hands, and his body. Blood trickled down his cheeks.
The three of them hit the wall at the same time and slid down. In their blurry vision, Niu Dagang had already become a headless corpse.
This was especially true for Tan Chen. If not for the danger-precognition that came with being a Grandmaster of Huajin, he would have been riddled with bullets.
"AAAAAHHHHHHH!" Screams erupted around the Da Xin Publishing House as the outermost patrol of soldiers was thrown into disarray by the explosion!
Seeing the signal, two Hall Masters behind him rushed forward, seized Lu Jingyao, and hauled him to his feet.
Downstairs, Brother Niu shouted to the few editors who were still hunched over their work, "Hey! Brother Li, Brother Zheng... and Xiaqing, hurry up and go home!"
Brother Niu waved a dismissive hand. "No buts. Go home and sleep. You can write it tomorrow!"
There were also a few partitioned-off small rooms with signs on the doors reading "Editor-in-Chief’s Office," "Proofreading Room," and "Archive Room."
A massive stone, blasted from the wall and as large as a millstone, was reflected in Niu Dagang’s pupils. He had no time to dodge, nor could he.
Seated by the window was a young female editor with short hair, a round face, and round-framed glasses.
"However, my visit today is to ask a favor of you. I do hope you won’t refuse, Young Master Lu!"
The first-floor hall held a dozen or so desks, piled high with manuscripts, books, and newspapers.
Several fuses were tied to it, sputtering with sparks. Lu Jingyao instinctively raised an arm to shield his face, but he was still cut in several places.
Then, Lu Jingyao turned and looked at a burly man sitting on the sofa.
Normally, this place was a hub of bustling activity, with dozens of people coming and going—editors, writers, proofreaders, and typesetters, all working at a feverish pace.
On the wall hung a large map. The territory of the Daxia New Country was covered in red circles and dots.
Cyan Eagle, however, was not as composed as Tan Chen. He quickly shot a meaningful glance to his men.
Fortunately, the wounds were only superficial. The three of them lay dazed amidst the shattered glass. Before they could even get their bearings, the office door was kicked open!
Hearing this, Brother Niu grinned, revealing a set of white teeth. "Xiaoyao, they’ve just been captivated by your charisma."
At the same time, similar objects landed by the outer courtyard wall and at the main entrance.
Lu Jingyao shook his head. "Nonsense. Tell them to go home. The articles can wait until tomorrow. I can’t have them ruining their health."
On the second floor, Lu Jingyao was chatting with two companions when the entire building began to shake. With a CRASH, all the windows shattered!
Only after paying such a heavy price had they finally managed to break in.
"They probably figure the more they work, the faster they can rouse the nation’s spirit."
"They’re working even harder than we are. If they keep burning the midnight oil like this, their health will suffer."
After exchanging a look, the three editors reluctantly put down their pens and began to pack their things.
The short-haired female editor also stood up and closed her manuscript. Just then, a square object suddenly dropped into the hallway outside the door.
In that instant, Niu Dagang was obliterated. The three male editors behind him were sent flying into the opposite wall, their heads splitting open upon impact.
It was Tan Chen and his men. Tan Chen led the way, his clothes riddled with bullet holes that revealed the mangled, bloody flesh beneath.
"You got it!" Brother Niu replied with a smile and turned to leave.
The three male editors looked up at each other. One of them rubbed his eyes, yawned, and said, "But this article... I was hoping to use it tomorrow."
Despite the surprise attack, they had met with fierce resistance from the soldiers outside.
’This is...?’
In the center of the courtyard stood a two-story concrete building, the editorial department of Da Xin Publishing House, with its grayish-white concrete exterior and perfectly square windows.
Countless shards of glass rained down on them like a sudden storm, embedding themselves all over their bodies!
The female editor glanced out the window. In the hallway, the square package lay silently on the ground.
On either side were several posters with slogans like "Awaken the People’s Wisdom," "Spirit of Independence," and "Freedom of Thought."
Everyone there, aside from the supremely confident Tan Chen, knew they had truly stirred up a hornet’s nest this time. There was no turning back.

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