Chapter 114: The Cup-Smashing White Tiger Hall

Amidst Feng Yulin’s incessant chatter, Wei Wuji and his party finally arrived outside the White Tiger Hall. Only then did Feng Yulin pause. No wonder the man was such a capable official—his gift of gab was indeed formidable.

Thanks to Feng Yulin’s explanations, Wei Wuji gained some understanding of the top ministers of the Wei Kingdom. “Young lord, I can only accompany you this far. I have no authority to enter beyond this point,” Feng Yulin said with a smile, gazing toward the courtyard.

After their friendly exchange, Wei Wuji realized that Feng Yulin’s position as a local magistrate held little weight within the Military Command Headquarters. “In that case, many thanks to Lord Feng,” Wei Wuji said, bowing slightly with his fists clasped.

“It is but my duty; I am honored by your praise, young lord,” Feng Yulin replied, bowing deeply.

“You should attend to your other matters now. I will enter on my own,” Wei Wuji said, brushing off his sleeve.

“Then I shall take my leave,” Feng Yulin said with another bow.

After Wei Wuji nodded, Feng Yulin slowly retreated. Once Feng Yulin was out of sight, Zheng Dali stepped forward. “Young lord, you should go in now.”

Unexpectedly, Wei Wuji turned to him, fixing him with a gaze. “Aren’t you coming in with me?”

Zheng Dali shook his head solemnly. “Young lord, as a mere guard, I am not permitted to enter the White Tiger Hall according to regulations.”

Wei Wuji smirked, feigning indifference. Who cared about such rules?

“Very well. You all stay here; I will enter alone,” Wei Wuji said with a nonchalant air.

He glanced up at the gilded plaque above the great door inscribed with the grand characters “White Tiger Hall,” which somewhat quelled the restlessness in his heart.

After tidying his appearance, Wei Wuji stepped forward under the watchful eyes of the guards stationed there.

Beyond the door lay a smooth path paved with blue stone slabs, flanked on either side by rows of weapons. There were no luxurious decorations, yet this simple setting only heightened the solemnity and gravity of the place.

About twenty meters ahead stood a dignified hall, a rare sight within the Military Command Headquarters.

This was the true White Tiger Hall—Wei Wuji’s destination.

Taking a deep breath, he pressed forward, embarking on his first solitary challenge.

He cast a glance at the sword hanging at his waist and chuckled to himself.

“If I bring this sword into the White Tiger Hall and get tied up and exiled, that’d be just my luck!” Wei Wuji muttered, his mind wandering wildly.

“If that happens, poor Huan’er will be left a lonely widow…” After joking with himself, he shook his head and began steeling himself for what awaited inside.

But as he drew nearer, sounds from within unsettled him.

Faintly, Wei Wuji discerned the noise of a quarrel.

“What’s going on?” he wondered. How could such a solemn place as the White Tiger Hall be filled with bickering?

Could it be that his tardiness had delayed the military council, and the generals inside had started losing their tempers? Wei Wuji wasn’t sure.

As he approached the hall’s massive doors, the voices grew louder, even accompanied by the sharp sound of a fist striking a table.

“These men really have tempers!” Wei Wuji murmured. After all, he was a noble son; would they really show him no respect?

When he stood at the entrance, the clamor within was deafening and chaotic. One could only imagine the disorder inside.

The noise was a jumble of voices, but after listening for a while, Wei Wuji managed to catch some details.

They were currently debating the distribution of military rewards among the divisions—nothing to do with his being late.

A sudden creak rang out as the heavy doors of the hall were pushed open, the sharp sound silencing the once lively scene inside.

All eyes turned to the entrance, where a fifteen-year-old youth stood.

Wei Wuji also surveyed the assembly. Inside were all manner of men, though generals far outnumbered civil officials.

Seated in the central position of the hall was a proper civil official. Wei Wuji locked eyes with him, and the man returned his gaze.

But the brief calm was shattered as the crowd erupted into argument once more, turning the White Tiger Hall into a bustling marketplace.

“So… they weren’t arguing because of me!” Wei Wuji let out a wry laugh, chastising his own vanity.

Standing just inside the door, Wei Wuji soon grasped the gist of the dispute after a few minutes of back-and-forth insults.

It became clear that his earlier assumptions had been far off the mark.

The generals gathered here were those who had fought alongside Wei Wuji during the western campaign; some he had even met during the military council.

Their purpose was to deliberate the allocation of military merits and rewards following the campaign—matters that directly affected their promotions.

Wei Wuji himself had been summoned here, likely for the same reason: to seek rewards for his own troops.

He had thought he was being called to discuss grand national affairs, but it turned out to be something quite different.

As for the official presiding over the meeting, Wei Wuji realized he was much like the generals—compelled to push his own merits forward fiercely.

Without securing these rewards, few would continue following him.

A leader who cannot secure benefits for his people is no true leader.

Yet Wei Wuji found himself unable to interject. These battle-hardened men were formidable even in argument.

With their loud voices and coarse tones, it was easy for them to drown out others.

He noticed a few civil officials—whom Wei Wuji guessed were the main administrators of the Military Command Headquarters—nearly overwhelmed by the generals’ shouting.

“I have to come up with a plan. There’s no way I can win by trading barbs with these guys,” Wei Wuji whispered, eyes scanning the room for an opening.

Meanwhile, the scene inside the hall grew ever more heated.

If not for the gleaming armor and official robes worn by those present, one might mistake the place for a chaotic marketplace.

The presiding lord of the command’s face was flushed red as he struggled to quiet the crowd—none of them had yet acknowledged Wei Wuji’s arrival.

This alone spoke volumes about the intensity of the disputes—so fierce that decorum had been thrown aside.

Under the lord’s watchful gaze, Wei Wuji took action.

He strode over to a table, decisively seized a cup, and flung it to the ground with force.

“Crack!”

Amidst the ongoing arguments, the shattering of porcelain echoed sharply, followed by the soft clatter of shards rolling across the floor.

That singular, extraordinary sound finally stilled the tumult.

All eyes turned to Wei Wuji, the source of the interruption.

He stood upright and stern, his face ashen, glaring fiercely at everyone present.