Hua Jing's hands gripped Zhao Yan's arm tightly as she pushed him aside.
An instant later, a loud thwack echoed through the room as an arrow tore through the wall, embedding itself in the study's wooden floor.
Both of them turned to stare at it, their eyes wide with shock.
The arrow's tip wasn't ordinary—it was ablaze, a bright orange flame crackling violently against the wood.
The fire licked hungrily at the flimsy curtains nearby, catching onto the fabric in mere seconds.
"Fire!" someone outside shouted, their voice frantic.
Zhao Yan moved first, yanking Hua Jing away from the growing flames as smoke began to billow into the room.
The smell of burning wood and fabric filled the air, thick and suffocating.
Hua Jing coughed, her gaze darting to the gaping hole in the wall where the arrow had entered.
Her mind raced.
Who could be strong enough to shoot an arrow clean through a wall?
