The entire Imperial Palace, even the nighttime chirping of insects is absent, a dead silence, extraordinarily mysterious.
In the darkness, arrows are nocked into tight bows, countless bows and arrows aimed at the lone carriage in the training grounds. This is not a dozen or a hundred people, but over ten thousand archers equipped with heavy crossbows.
A single arrow, has no lethal power.
Ten arrows, cannot injure Mo Liancheng and his companion.
A hundred arrows, might allow them to escape, but what about tens of thousands?
Sky Net, Hell Shura, this kind of killer move, no matter who, even the most formidable expert in the world, would perish here. Today, this has been months in the making to gather the upper echelons of the palace's wisdom over the centuries, through countless rehearsals and painstaking meticulous planning and perfect execution.
Seamless, inescapable.
Click! A sound of uniformity.
