Zheng Liang's body tensed instantly, his hand clutching Yang Ning's protectively as his other hand hovered near his sword. His voice, cold and firm, cut through the air. "How did you escape?"
Yang Luoyang sneered, tightening his grip on the terrified noblewoman. "Did you really think your prison could hold me? I still have loyal friends—people who know my true worth. I'm far from finished."
The guards, already on alert, surged forward, forming a protective barrier around the royal family. Their movements were swift and calculated, trying to corner Yang Luoyang without endangering the hostage. Each guard took measured steps, their hands resting on their weapons, eyes locked on him.
But Yang Luoyang, sensing their approach, pressed the knife closer to the woman's throat. "One step closer, and her blood will stain this floor!" he bellowed, the madness in his eyes flaring.
