No one knows how Gu Lan explained it, nor how many people she actually killed.
Before he could hesitate further, he saw one, two, three, four young and beautiful little maids emerge from somewhere, each with a gentle smile, warmly approaching.
Gu Lan hurriedly comforted them one by one: "Ah, You'er, I'm fine, last night was an accident, I was just slaughtering a chicken in the room."
"Zijin, stop crying, help me handle this fish."
"Someone did try to assassinate me, but I counterattacked them all!"
"Oh, don't be afraid... let's not talk about it. Go, help me clean these vegetables."
Rong Heng could barely watch.
Gu Lan put down the big bags she was carrying, sat down, and from a small basket behind her, she pulled out a strangely shaped, brass-made Furnace of Eight Trigrams.
She glanced at the sky; a cool, refreshing early autumn evening was perfect for...
"Brother Hang, let's start!"
Rong Heng shivered all over, looking at that Furnace of Eight Trigrams.
