The snow was still falling as the night gradually grew darker. The Lizheng in the village was making arrangements for this group of officials to rest in various private residences. Fan Xian did not allow Hong Changqing and the swordsmen to stand duty because he knew there was still danger hidden outside.
Although the swordsmen of the Sixth Bureau specialized in assassination, they had no good ways of dealing with a long-distance attack. In the large school, there was only himself left lost in thought. Although the fire in the fire basin was burning and there was a great deal of charcoal prepared beside the basin, it felt that the temperature seemed to have dropped.
Silence.
Fan Xian stretched his hands over the fire to warm them. His head was slightly tilted. It was clear he was lost in thought. Suddenly, he opened his mouth and said, "I struck out."
He paused and then summarized, "But, I struck empty air."
