```
Half an hour later,
the bright pattern lamp had already been lit, illuminating the entire room with its white glow in the pitch-dark chamber.
At the square table,
Xu Yuan sat shirtless in his chair, while Ran Qingmo sat expressionlessly opposite him, the scabbarded Ink Sword placed on the table.
In her nightwear, Xinyao stood by Xu Yuan's side, carefully applying medicine to his wound.
The sound of the sword cry naturally woke her up. She stumbled out to take a look and saw the hole in the roof of the next room, cut by the Sword Qi. After a moment of stupefaction, she ran next door, pushed the door open, and then she saw the collapsed bed in the room, Ran Qingmo with a sword in hand, and her third brother lying in a pile of firewood.
The room was very quiet, no one spoke, only the "sizzle" of Xinyao handling the medicine jar and tearing gauze could be heard.
The sharp pain from his ribs made Xu Yuan frown deeply, but he didn't make a sound.
