"It's not just the smithy that's out of control."
Zhang Liang took a white chess piece from the chess pot in front of Lu Buwei and held it between his index and ring fingers.
Bang~
There was a clear and loud sound of a piece falling.
He pressed the white piece with his ring finger, and under the gaze of Lü Buwei's shrunken pupils, he said: "And the people of Han."
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