As Zhu Yu swung his sword in a swift strike, Lu Qian’s men had already pushed down the hastily-made wooden fence outside the ruins of Lantian Garden.
They were locked in a fierce struggle with the white-clad night guards of the Bai family.
Lu Qian himself leapt high into the air, soaring dozens of zhang with the elegance of a great bird tracing a graceful arc.
Amid the despairing gazes of Bai family’s guards, he floated lightly on the wind across the entire Lantian Garden and landed atop the roof of the Bai family’s Xiulou pavilion.
Stepping on the roof ridgeline beast—a traditional decorative statue—Lu Qian looked down upon the small courtyard below.
There, Bai Lu was tightly holding Zhu Yu from behind.
With one hand pressing on the hilt of his waist sword, Lu Qian smiled as he surveyed the chaos below.
Bai Changkong, with Bai Qiong, Bai Lang, Bai Xi, and several other sons, soared up hastily and rushed toward the wall’s edge.
A cold, malicious gale swept across the flat ground, and suddenly a tall man in a black robe pounced out of the gust.
His hands and cheeks were covered in black scales, and he let out a chilling laugh.
Without warning, he appeared before Bai Changkong and struck his chest with a palm strike.