The moon was dark, the wind was high.
Cyan Yang Ancient City was shrouded in a grim, murderous aura.
Yesterday, County Magistrate Zhang Wenpeng was slain by Chu Fan. Now, the mansion of this once-powerful official was under heavy lockdown.
Government Officials, their faces grim, gripped their long sabers and guarded every entrance and exit.
Inside the mansion, Madam Zhang was dressed in plain clothes, yet her expression showed little grief.
Though over thirty, her skin was fairer than snow and her features were as if painted. Even in this moment of crisis, she possessed a captivating charm.
Beside her, fifteen-year-old Zhang Mingyuan clenched his fists, his eyes filled with resentment and unease.
"Mother, are we really just going to wait here to die?"
Madam Zhang gently patted her son's shoulder, a mysterious violet glint flashing in her eyes. "Don't worry. I have made my own arrangements."
