Cao Xiangqian's face darkened. He took two large strides forward, stopping so close his face almost bumped right into Xu Zhiwen's.
"The recent report merely stated that the refugees had rushed into the city. Do not forget that they are also the Holy Emperor's subjects!" Cao Xiangqian barked. "The blades of us soldiers are meant for foreign enemies, not our own brothers and families! What are your true intentions behind saying such things?"
Xu Zhiwen stumbled back in fright, startled by the broad, round face that had suddenly loomed before him. Wiping away the spittle that had sprayed onto his face, he stubbornly retorted, "I never told you to draw your blades! I merely suggested that you go and intimidate them. In case any unruly commoners try to stir up trouble in the chaos, they wouldn't have the gall—"
Under the general's fierce glare, Xu Zhiwen's voice gradually faltered. The intense, murderous aura washing over him made his legs tremble involuntarily.
