However.
When they pulled back Xiang Ying's blanket, they found her clutching an iron object in her arms.
Question marks popped up over the heads of a few people one after another.
"What is this?"
One of them leaned in close to observe and hissed, "It seems like a firearm."
A cold voice, tinged with a hint of weariness, resounded above their heads.
"You're not wrong; this is a firearm, the kind that can blast you straight to meet your dead ancestors."
The assassins who had sneaked in were immediately startled, scrambling back in alarm.
Yet what they saw was Xiang Ying, who had just been sound asleep, now with her sharp, jet-black Phoenix Eyes wide open.
Her cheeks were flushed with an abnormal red, yet her gaze was more lucid and piercing than ever.
The muscle aches caused by the high fever could not overcome muscle memory.
Xiang Ying almost instantly sat up with agility, and before they could react, the cold iron barrel of the firearm was already aimed at them.
