"With you gone, I still have others I can support. Your Second Uncle and Master Feng Jingnian are all eagerly waiting for my favor! I'm sorry, Master Shiyan. Fire!"
As his voice faded, gunshots immediately erupted.
Mo Shiyan's bodyguards used their own bodies to shield him from the bullets, protecting him as they retreated into the tomb chamber.
The stench of searing flesh and blood made Mo Shiyan's face turn pale.
He had acted in many plays. He had smelled gunpowder before. But he never knew that the scent of gunpowder mixed with flesh and blood could be so unbearable. His throat felt as if it were blocked by a stone, hard and painful.
His voice hoarse, he pleaded, "Miss An Yan, I beg you, please, do all you can to save their lives."
An Yan took out some medicine, giving each injured bodyguard a pill to sustain them for the time being.
Above, the steward's men guarded the entrance. They were discussing how to come down and capture them all at once.
