Chapter 231: Brandishing the spear, he severs old loyalties without regret

Inside the Grand Hall, deathly silence prevailed. The Oriental reporter's corpse still lay before the podium, warm blood continuing to seep slowly, spreading across the polished marble floor into an irregular dark-red pattern.

A thick smell of blood permeated the enclosed space, making people nauseous.

All the reporters stood frozen as if under a paralysis spell, their faces deathly pale, wide eyes filled with disbelief and deep fear. No one dared to move, nor even to breathe loudly. They all stared in terror at the man on the podium who had just killed someone yet remained calm as still water.

Lin Yu still maintained his composed posture, a faint cold smile playing at the corner of his mouth. His gaze began to drift slowly, like an invisible blade, sweeping over every trembling reporter below.

Finally, his gaze settled on the French female reporter who had just been speaking eloquently, trying to drive a wedge between him and the court.

His gaze was extremely indifferent, devoid of anger, contempt, or even the slightest flicker—a terrifying emptiness, as if he were looking at a lifeless object, or more accurately, a corpse.

He said nothing, merely looking at her with that gaze, silently conveying an obvious message: 'Do you still need me to answer your question from earlier?'

Marie Dupont, a senior reporter for Le Figaro, had interviewed countless dignitaries in her career and faced various dangerous situations. But now, as she met Lin Yu's eyes that seemed to come from the depths of hell, she felt her soul trembling.

A bone-chilling chill shot up from her spine, her heart pounding wildly, almost leaping from her throat. She nearly cried out, instinctively stepping back half a pace; her high heels made a faint scraping sound on the floor, her face turned ashen, fine cold sweat beaded on her forehead, and her carefully applied makeup began to smudge.

Marie gripped the interview notebook tightly with both hands, her knuckles whitening from the force. The sharp question about Lin Yu's relation to the court still written in the notebook now seemed ridiculous. In the face of someone who could unhesitatingly gun down a 'provocateur' in public, what question was worth pursuing?

The surrounding air seemed to solidify, time at this moment becoming unusually slow. Marie felt each breath grow difficult, even hearing her own rapid heartbeat. She wished she had never asked that question, never drawn the attention of this terrifying man.

Lin Yu merely stared at her silently, the chill in his gaze enough to freeze any spark of defiance.

This silent intimidation was more powerful than any words, more terrifying than any threat.

Marie Dupont forced out a smile uglier than a sob, her voice trembling uncontrollably: 'No... no need, Commander Lin... whether to answer is your prerogative...'

After uttering those words, Marie Dupont almost instinctively stepped back half a pace. At this moment, the senior reporter of Le Figaro only wanted to end this nightmare-like press conference quickly and leave the suffocating place. But Lin Yu had no intention of letting off the foreign reporter who had just been so aggressive.

"No no no," Lin Yu curled the corner of his mouth into a meaningful smile, a dangerous glint flashing in his eyes, "Miss Dupont, I think I should still answer your question. After all, I have always 'respected' the media." He deliberately stressed the word 'respected', his tone full of sarcasm, making all present reporters shiver.

Inside the Grand Hall, not a sparrow stirred, even breathing grew faint. All reporters held their breath, awaiting the next move of this chilling warlord. Lin Yu walked slowly to the center of the podium, approaching the microphone once more. This young warlord's voice was not loud, yet it exploded like thunder in everyone's ears:

"Then, I tell you—"

Lin Yu's gaze swept over the entire hall like a hawk, his eyes bearing an air of looking down upon the world. The Chinese and foreign reporters present involuntarily lowered their heads, avoiding that sharp gaze. Lin Yu straightened his back, wearing an expression of arrogance, and spoke word by word:

"From today onward, this Shen City will be decided by me, Lin Yu! The rules of Shen City, Shen City's future, will be decided by us ourselves! We will never again entrust the fate of this city to the corrupt, declining Great Dry Court that only fawns over foreigners!"

As soon as these words were spoken, the entire Grand Hall erupted instantly—far more violently, a hundred times over, than the earlier shock caused by shooting the Oriental reporter. John Wilson of The Times jumped to his feet, only to be pulled back by a nearby colleague. Zhang Ting of Shen Bao hurriedly scribbled in his notebook, afraid of missing any detail.

Many more reporters stared agape, as if struck dumb by the astonishing declaration.

Flashbulbs flickered wildly again, recording this historic moment. This declaration amounted to a public proclamation that Shen City would determine its own destiny, utterly casting aside the authority of the central court! In an instant, the venue descended into chaos. Western reporters vied to send telegrams to their headquarters in their own languages, while Chinese reporters looked at one another, unsure how to phrase their coverage of this earth-shattering news.

Amidst this chaos, Lin Yu stood on the podium, expression calm, a faint smile playing at his lips, looking down on the panicked crowd below.

Amidst the clamor, a figure sprang up from the front rows—none other than Qian Zhi Yuan, editor-in-chief of the Da Qian Daily. This elderly official past his sixties, dressed in a crisp formal robe with a neat hairstyle, had his neck veins bulging from anger.

His wrinkled face, twisted with agitation, pointed a trembling finger at Lin Yu on the podium, his murky eyes flashing with sparks of fury.

"Traitor! You rebellious minister and villain!" Qian Zhi Yuan's voice, sharp from extreme fury, cried, "Wolfish ambition! Wasting the court's vast imperial grace! How dare you, how dare you utter such treasonous words!" As he spoke, he pounded his chest vigorously, as if to vent his inner grief.

Lin Yu stood on the stage, his expression still calm, merely a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. This only further enraged Qian Zhi Yuan: the old official's face turned from white to blue, then to purple, his whole body shaking violently, even the long braid on his chest swaying incessantly.

"You are rebelling! You will drag my Great Dry into an abyss of eternal ruin!" Qian Zhi Yuan wept tears streaming down, his voice breaking from overexcitement, "You disloyal, unfilial, inhumane, unjust traitor! Everyone deserves to kill you!"

His roar echoed in the Grand Hall, provoking an even greater commotion. Some similarly pigtail-wearing old-school reporters rose to their feet, echoing Qian Zhi Yuan's words. Sun Yao Ting, the elderly reporter of Jinghua Times, leaning on a cane, tremulously stood and shouted 'Treason!' Xu Tian You, editor-in-chief of the Jiangnan Gazette, eyes red, kept pounding the tabletop.

But many more reporters merely watched the scene in silence, their eyes flickering with complex light. Marie Dupont kept noting something in her notebook, while John Wilson quietly opened the camera he carried. To them, this dramatic scene precisely attested to the fierce transformation the empire was undergoing.

Lin Yu's guards sprang into action, trying to quell the chaos on site. Several soldiers in gray uniforms hurried toward Qian Zhi Yuan, but he acted as if he couldn't see them, continuing to shout hoarsely.

His gaze fixed firmly on Lin Yu, as if he wished to use this last loyalty to defend the old world now crumbling apart.

"You rebels, aren't you afraid of heavenly thunder and earthly split?" Qian Zhi Yuan's voice now completely hoarse, "The emperor treats you well, the court has entrusted you with important duties. Yet you dare to betray loyalty and righteousness, betray the court! Though I, Qian someone, am not worth dying for, I will make the world know your true face, Lin Yu!"

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