A Final Entrustment

Song Qingshu moved stealthily through the estate, avoiding the patrolling guards, and finally found Tang Kuobian's room.

Two guards stood watch outside Tang Kuobian's door. Song Qingshu twisted his body and slipped into the room through the rear window. The moment he entered, he heard a low groan, and it was clear the person making it was in extreme pain.

With a tap of his toes, Song Qingshu sprang onto a crossbeam. Looking down, he saw Tang Kuobian lying on the bed, his face the color of waxed paper and beads of sweat the size of soybeans rolling down his skin. He was obviously enduring tremendous pain.

"Huang Rong really struck hard this time. Tang Kuobian's spinal pressure point was injured. He'll probably spend the rest of his life in bed." Song Qingshu sucked in a breath.

Though Tang Kuobian's injuries were grave, they did not appear life-threatening. Just as Song Qingshu was about to return and report back, his expression changed and he turned his gaze toward the door.

Two muffled groans rang out. If Song Qingshu's guess was correct, the two guards outside were probably already doomed.

Tang Kuobian, lying in bed, clearly sensed that something was wrong as well. He grabbed the curved saber beside the bed and stared fiercely at the doorway.

Pfft!

Several shadows suddenly rushed in, raising their hands and sending a barrage of concealed weapons flying toward the bed.

Song Qingshu was shocked. He had not expected these people to be so decisive. They had not uttered a single word after entering, yet their first move was a killing strike. With Tang Kuobian severely injured and unable to move, he could not possibly evade the sky-full of poisoned needles. Even if he had not been injured, he still would not have been able