The atmosphere inside the imperial hall had become unbearably tense.
Seven assassins stood between Xia Yuqing and the dragon throne, their expressions calm and unreadable. Although none of them had moved yet, everyone present could feel the danger radiating from their bodies.
Meanwhile, Xia Yuqing wasn't the one to be far behind. She slipped her hand into the sleeve of her robe.
A faint metallic glint flashed beneath the palace lights before a slender dagger appeared in her hand. The familiar weapon settled naturally into her grip. Its cold weight felt reassuring against her palm, instantly bringing back memories of countless battles fought in the past.
Her gaze swept across the seven assassins standing before her.
The seven assassins subtly adjusted their stances. To ordinary people, the movement would have been almost impossible to notice. However, Xia Yuqing immediately recognized the signs. They were preparing to attack.
