When Mo Qi arrived outside the Imperial Academy, he, like Liu Hui before him, was stunned by the scene before his eyes.
As far as the eye could see, hundreds of city blocks—nearly half of the Imperial City—had been turned into a plain.
And it was a true "plain" in the most literal sense of the word!
The once-bustling buildings, pavilions, and towers, the endless streams of carriages and horses—all had vanished like mist, scattered by the wind.
"Such cruel methods!"
Just from the scent of blood and resentment in the air, it wasn't hard to guess that the number of people who had died in this disaster was a truly terrifying figure.
Mo Qi clenched his fists.
He had always abhorred such acts that treated human lives as worthless, showing a complete disregard for others.
His killing intent toward the Hall of Envoys grew even more resolute.
