Little Pillar had trained in martial arts for over a year. He had taken tonics, and his daily meals had been as lavish as Wang Yan's. Over the past year, he had shot up ten centimeters and grown sturdy as a young calf.
Faced with the assassins closing in to kill them, Little Pillar chose to strike first. He understood perfectly well that if a real fight broke out, he might become Wang Yan's burden. So he charged straight at them, crouched low, and caught the blade one man had slashed at him with his bare hands. With a twist of both hands, he reversed the man's wrist joint, seized the blade barehanded, then twisted at the waist and hips, dragging the man around to switch places with him.
The next instant, blades flashed, and two men's swords swung mercilessly into their companion's body. Immediately afterward, another man stepped forward, and the three of them surrounded Little Pillar to hold him back.
The remaining twenty or so men did not slow down as they continued charging toward Wang Yan. As they ran, they spread out in a fan formation, blocking off his escape routes and giving him no chance to flee.
Because he practiced martial arts at home every day and had taught all manner of attack methods while drilling the garrison troops, anyone who paid attention knew that Wang Yan was accomplished in both letters and arms. They had therefore given him sufficient attention.
Wang Yan stood where he was with a smile, observing the assassins' movements.
Though they had merely formed a simple encirclement, it was enough to reveal a great deal. They were not soldiers, because their coordination during the encirclement was anything but smooth. There was no exchange in their eyes, showing how unfamiliar they were