Lu Ying was indifferent: "If the arrow veers, it veers. Eventually, one will hit."
As the words landed, a feathered arrow whizzed toward Qin Lunan with a sharp "whoosh"!
Seeing the arrow screech toward him, Qin Lunan's eyes filled with rage and panic as he frantically struggled mid-air. But it was all in vain—he could only watch helplessly as the sharp arrow embedded itself into his ankle. His face went deathly pale, and a muffled groan escaped his lips.
"Ah!"
Shen Yinning feigned innocence: "Brother Lu Ying, I missed."
"Try again."
Lu Ying held her, nocking another arrow onto the bowstring.
Shen Yinning obediently narrowed her eyes, her expression mimicking that of a novice learning archery—clumsy yet endearing.
In no more than the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, Qin Lunan, suspended in mid-air, was pierced by so many arrows that he resembled a porcupine!
