In the distance, the sound of rooftiles crashing filled the air as flames lit up the street corner—barbarians were spreading oil and setting fires to cause chaos.
Astha's face was deathly pale, and he collapsed into the main seat.
The wine in his cup spilled onto his boots, resembling a pool of blood.
The nobles rose in panic, chairs overturned, silver plates clattered to the ground, the sound of impacts intertwining with screams forming a chaotic symphony.
Some shouted to escape, some rushed to the door but were blocked by the guards' spears.
"Calm down!" Sai Fu shouted, drawing his sword, as fighting energy gleamed golden on his body.
The light drew an arc in the hall, forcibly dampening the rampant panic.
At this moment, the estate's defenses were sparse, each noble only bringing one personal guard, totaling just over thirty—in truth, the real defense was Astha's hundred knights.
