Candlelight glimmered in the night, illuminating a red figure dancing nimbly within the formation.
That was right. To those still conscious, the dancer was simply dancing. Before the assassins could get near Yang Chen, she sent them flying or knocked them down, her long sleeves fluttering like a celestial maiden descending from beyond the heavens.
In truth, Bai Yujun was cursing up a storm inside.
The crimson dress made every movement awkward and stiff; she could not even run properly. Those wide sleeves were especially miserable for a snake. Wearing this outfit, she sometimes unconsciously slipped into dance movements—it was entirely reflexive. Of course she looked good leaping about in such attire. There had simply been no time to change.
What Bai Yujun could not stand most was the elaborate hairstyle and the heap of ornaments on her head. Whenever she moved too quickly, she felt as though her scalp were being yanked.
She grabbed the last crazed guard, knocked him unconscious with one punch, and tossed him aside.
"Father... save me, Father..."
On the ground, the old young master of the Yang Household was still crying for his father and mother. Nearly fifty years old, with a beard on his face, yet he was not even as composed as a seventy-year-old man. Yang Chen glanced disappointedly at his eldest son, filled with regret over why he had ever begotten him. That, in turn, reminded him of his wife, dead many years now, who had doted on her children and grandchildren. If not for her, his eldest would not have turned out this way.
Bai Yujun stood motionless at Yang Chen's side.
Yang Chen looked over the familiar faces of those who had been knocked unconscious or killed, then sighed and turned to Bai Yujun.
"Thank you, Your Excellency, for