The night was pitch-black and shadowless, the wind cold and soundless.
Inside the carriage, it was warm and tranquil.
Cui Xiaoxin strained her ears to listen, yet still could not make out the slightest movement outside.
She had just heard Yan Xiangma roar, "Go to hell!" But what had happened afterward?
Had Yan Xiangma won or lost? If he had won, had he injured his enemy? If he had lost, had he been hurt?
Cui Xiaoxin was not a martial artist or cultivator. Besides, the outside was far too quiet, nothing like a scene of fighting and slaughter. She could not possibly guess how things were progressing, and worry gnawed at her.
Cui Xiaoxin looked toward Li Mu Yang, who was sitting opposite her. His gaze was grim and his face ashen. He understood what she was asking, but did not hide the truth. He merely shook his head at her.
Cui Xiaoxin's face instantly went as pale as paper. She knew that her cousin might have been injured in this clash. Whether he was still alive remained unknown.
Her expression grew unbearably strained, and both hands clenched tightly around her skirt.
Now she was caught between a rock and a hard place, trapped in an impossible dilemma.
If she went outside, she would have no grounds or position to stop the shadow, Song Fuxiao, from searching the carriage. If Cui Xiaoxin was not inside, what would be wrong with lifting the curtain and taking a look? But then, what would happen to Li Mu Yang trapped inside the carriage?
If she did not go out, her cousin could only hold out to the bitter end, block him to the bitter end, and fight to the bitter end. Judging from the situation outside, her cousin's strength should not match Song