The night was thick with tension in the Royal Castle.
The main hall, usually adorned for banquets and celebrations, was now the stage for a deadly confrontation.
Xenovia, with her proud posture and eyes gleaming with defiance, faced the Crown Prince's special squad.
The soldiers, all clad in black armor with golden details, surrounded the girl like predators about to strike.
Their swords and spears emanated a magical aura, runes faintly glowing on their blades—weapons created to face high-level cultivators like her.
Xenovia, though exhausted, remained firm.
Her combat dress was in tatters, and cuts on her skin left crimson trails of blood running down, but her eyes showed no weakness. She twirled her longsword, the steel hissing through the air as she wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand.
