Their defiance was brave.
Foolish.
Deadly.
Before the last word had finished echoing in the hall, a silver slash sliced through the air. It was so fast, so clean, that the officials barely saw it happen. One moment, Minister Fang was standing, his chest heaving with righteous fury—and the next, he was on the floor.
Blood gushed from his throat in a horrific spray.
Gasps turned to screams. Some officials staggered backward, slipping on the slick marble stained red. Others dropped to their knees, paralyzed with fear.
Standing at the center of it all, as calm as if he had simply spilled wine on a silk robe, was none other than the Prime Minister.
He flicked the blood from his sword with a languid hand, his expression unreadable.
"He did say... over his dead body," he said with a small shrug. His voice was far too relaxed for the chaos around him. "Well, he is dead now."
He looked at the remaining ministers, his eyes glittering with cruelty.
