Yun Hen wasn't idling either. He covered their front, swinging his sword forward as if in a dance, successfully obstructing the swarm of imperial guards.
Brows perked up, Zhan Beiye unsheathed his sword in a burst of laughter that spread across all doors while dragging Pei Yuan along by her throat. "What bad luck to have to touch you, wretched woman."
Pei Yuan's face was as pale as a sheet, and she was about to pass out. She shot a sorrowful glance at her father, only to see that he was completely under Meng Fuyao's control. Her whip was going up and down, left and right, and there was no way for him to pass through.
"Open the door! Open it bigger, or your princess's bosom will shrink for sure!" Meng Fuyao cackled.
