Did he trick the young marshal into becoming sworn brothers and then go south to Huangpu Military Ac

"More than a year ago, the Zhili-Fengtian War."

"The Fengtian Army had a lot of soldiers and cannons. In the end, it wasn't Wu Ziyu who retreated all the way from Changxindian to Shanhaiguan, losing all his armor and weapons, and almost losing face in the three northeastern provinces."

After firing his weapon, Lin Qi picked up his tea and sipped it as if nothing had happened.

However, these words were far more terrifying than a real cannonball.

boom.

The roof of the entire hall was blown off.

Tang Yulin choked on the tea he had just sipped, splashing it onto his chest. He didn't even bother to wipe it away, glaring at Lin Qi with his eyes practically bulging out of their sockets.

Jiang Deng picked up a white porcelain teacup and smashed it on the edge of the table with a "bang." He had lost his grip; the teacup landed on the table, not broken, but rolled half a foot away.

Sun Liechen straightened up from the chair against the wall, his hands, which had been resting on his knees, clenched into fists.

As for Yang Yuting...

He stood still, but the face behind his gold-rimmed glasses turned white inch by inch.

The smile on the old general's round face was gone, and the shrewdness in his small, walnut-shaped eyes had also disappeared.

What was replaced was a pool of cold ice, so cold that even the light couldn't shine through it.

Zhili suffered a defeat.

It was the greatest shame of Marshal Zhang's life, a scar that no one in the Fengtian Army was allowed to mention.

For over a year, who dared to utter a single word in the military camps outside the Great Wall?

Whoever brings it up will get shot.

The old marshal did not pursue all those who should have been held accountable for that disastrous defeat, in order to save face for the Fengtian Army, for his old comrades, and for himself.

But not pursuing it doesn't mean forgetting it. This scar had been covered up for more than a year, and today it was ripped open with a knife by a thug in his own living room, in front of everyone.

Which pot is not opened and which pot should I lift?

Why insult someone by revealing their weaknesses?

Lin Qi didn't stop. Stopping would be admitting defeat, and if he did, all the blows he took would have been for nothing. He had to put in more effort and draw the blood from that blow onto Yang Yuting.

Seeing that everyone had almost digested the information, he put down his teacup and turned his gaze to Yang Yuting's face. There was no anger or resentment in his eyes, just a calm expression, as if he were looking at a number that had been written incorrectly in an account book.

"I remember……"

Lin Qi lowered his voice.

"That battle, wasn't the overall operational strategy of the Fengtian Army drafted by your staff officer, Yang?"

After saying those words, even the last trace of color drained from Yang Yuting's face.

Lin Qi said coldly.

"The deployment along the Changxindian line, the coordination between the 27th and 16th Divisions, the logistics dispatching on the Beijing-Yulin Railway, and the person who signed off on it—"

He paused, deliberately drawing out the pause, so long that Yang Yuting's breath seemed to stop.

"It can't be Wu Ziyu, can it?"

Every word struck Yang Yuting squarely where it hurt the most.

The nickname "Little Zhuge Liang" is what Yang Yuting is most proud of.

But after that crushing defeat two years ago, when those three words were mentioned privately among the troops outside the Great Wall, they were no longer a compliment, but a sneer.

The old coach didn't pursue the matter; he was giving him face.

Tang Yulin, Jiang Dengxuan, and Sun Liechen will not mention it to his face, out of respect for the old marshal.

But for more than a year, every step Yang Yuting took in the Marshal's Mansion was treading on this hidden wound. He knew it in his heart, and who in the Manchu Feng Army didn't know it?

Lin Qi didn't say another word; the only sound in the entire hall was Yang Yuting's increasingly heavy breathing.

This feeling of unease was initially suppressed, but eventually, it became unbearable.

"Huo..."

Yang Yuting reached his right hand into his waist.

With a crisp "click," a brand-new Browning pistol was pulled out of its case!

The black muzzle of the gun slowly rose and aimed at Lin Qi's forehead.

Although Yang Yuting was almost furious, his hand did not tremble. After all, he was the Chief of Staff of the Fengtian Army and had returned alive from the Zhili-Fengtian battlefield. His hand holding the gun was very steady.

"Forest……"

Yang Yuting clenched his teeth so tightly that each word seemed to be forced out from between them.

"Taku..."

"Of……"

"You little brat with a silver tongue, how dare you spout nonsense in the Marshal's mansion? Today..."

"Yang Yuting!!"

Zhang Hanqing slammed his fist on the table and stood up abruptly.

"Smash!" He swept the teacup to the ground with one hand, and it shattered with a "bang".

A roar then echoed through the hall.

"Put the gun down, you fucking idiot! Put it down!"

But Yang Yuting didn't put down his gun; the cold muzzle was fixed on Lin Qi's forehead.

Veteran generals like Tang Yulin, Jiang Dengxuan, and Sun Liechen also showed murderous intent in their eyes.

Although Lin Qiming was referring to Yang Yuting, they were also partly responsible for the defeat that day.

Lu Xiaojia was so scared he peed his pants; he was really scared. He huddled in his chair.

This young man from Zhejiang was used to being arrogant in Shanghai, and no one dared to point a gun at him. He froze, stopped breathing, and his face turned as white as rice paper.

Lin Qi didn't move, and didn't even change his posture while sitting in the chair. His right hand was on the table, half an inch away from the teacup, and his left hand was on his leg. He didn't even look at the gun barrel that was so close to him, but stared into Yang Yuting's eyes.

He knew that unless the old general gave the order, Yang Yuting wouldn't dare to pull the trigger, even if he was scared to death.

In the oppressive silence that made one's chest feel heavy, someone spoke up.

Without asking, it was the old general who spoke. The old general first picked up the teacup, blew on the few floating leaves, blowing unhurriedly, as if the Browning between Lin Qi's eyebrows was a wooden stick.

"Neighbor!"

The old general didn't even lift his eyelids, and said in a low voice, "Put the gun away."

Yang Yuting's shoulders jerked, and with that slight jerk, his right hand, which was holding Browning, loosened its grip by half an inch.

The old coach slowly raised his head, his small, almond-shaped eyes sweeping over Yang Yuting's pale face, finally settling on the Browning that hadn't been put away yet.

"The rules of the Marshal's Mansion!"

The old general said calmly, "We don't kill envoys, let alone a junior."

Upon hearing this, Yang Yuting's cheek muscles tensed up, then relaxed, then tensed up again.

Finally, with a "click," Browning obediently put away his leather case; no one dared disobey the old marshal's orders.

Seeing that Yang Yuting had put away his gun, the old marshal turned back around.

Lin Qi felt a chord in his heart, and thought: Here it comes.

When the old coach looked at him again, his round face was still full of smiles, and the horizontal lines at the corners of his eyes were still there, but the warmth in his eyes was gone.

Lin Qi sneered inwardly; this old man's face changed really quickly.

However, he also knew that he had gone too far with his knife just now, bringing up the very thing he shouldn't have said. He had touched on the deepest wound of the Fengtian Army, the most painful wound of Yang Yuting, and even more so, the shame that the old marshal had kept hidden in his heart for more than a year, a shame that he was not comfortable telling anyone.

The old marshal suppressed Yang Yuting for the sake of the overall situation; he couldn't let a guest be shot in the main hall of the marshal's mansion, as that would be a disgrace to Fengtian. But suppressing him didn't mean he swallowed the pain of this blow.