When they confirmed the sky-spanning Arrow Rain came from the Holy Empire Envoy and not Tingfeng himself, the color instantly drained from everyone's faces, their pupils constricting to pinpricks.
The weapons held in many people's hands fell to the ground with a CLANG. Their knuckles, white from gripping too tightly, went slack. Cold sweat trickled down their temples, dripping onto the cracked command table.
A bitter wind, carrying the stench of gunpowder and blood, swept into the tent. A bone-chilling cold crept up their spines, making everyone feel as if they had been plunged into an icy cavern.
A dead silence enveloped the command table, with only the sound of heavy, ragged breathing echoing in the air.
