Wang Yibo stood frozen, his expression darkening with rage as the veins on his forehead throbbed. His bloodshot eyes burned with fury, and it felt as though his head might explode.
Gritting his teeth, he clapped his hands together sharply; the sound echoing through the camp.
Instantly, dozens of assassins materialized from the shadows, their cloaks shrouding their forms, each one gripping a weapon ready for death.
They knelt before him, awaiting his command.
"I want this bastard dead!" Wang Yibo barked:
"And kill the 1st Princess! She's useless to me if she's impure!" He didn't care who heard him — his rage consumed all rational thought.
The assassins nodded in unison, their movements eerily synchronized, and they rose to carry out their orders.
They moved toward the tent like a pack of silent predators.
The first assassin reached for the tent flap and began to ease it open—
CRACK!