Chapter 12
The blade was indeed somewhat dull.
Wen Yan tossed aside her long knife and pressed her palm, numb from the tremor.
That strike of hers had been truly astonishing—the sheer force of the scene left everyone dazed, unable to regain their composure for a long while.
The Wen family members felt it most deeply.
The image of the frail, sickly Wen Yan blurred suddenly.
Though her appearance remained unchanged, she seemed unfamiliar now.
They stared at her, speechless.
“Who are you?”
After a long silence, someone finally spoke—but it was not one of the Wen family.
Wen Yan looked up, seemingly puzzled by the question; she appeared to think carefully before answering:
“Haven’t you been watching the Wen family for some time? Don’t you know who I am?”
Her words stunned the Wen family. Wen Ruqing, who had remained silent until then, pursed her lips and asked:
“You’ve always known the Wen family was under surveillance?”
Wen Yan tilted her head slightly: “Discovered it seven or eight days ago.”
Her gaze shifted. “I even warned Wen and Ning.”
Suddenly called out and under the family’s scrutiny, Wen He and Ning widened their eyes in confusion.
But soon, realization dawned on him: “The rat infestation! It was the rat infestation!”
He clutched his head, wailing, “I forgot. I completely forgot.”
Had he remembered, perhaps this calamity could have been averted.
But from the moment he left his mother that day, the matter had slipped entirely from his mind.
At this moment, the leader seemed to grasp something, frowning:
“Did you kill the person?”
Wen Yan turned to look at him: “Which one do you mean?”
The leader didn’t press further—no need to; the answer was clear.
“That flower-carrying servant boy—did you kill him?!”
A distorted voice sounded behind them—it was Wen Youzhi.
He recalled the servant boy who had fallen and broken his neck in the back garden seven days ago.
Wen Yan explained helplessly: “He made the first move.”
Wen Changning muttered, “So you weren’t just scared sick.”
Someone capable of calmly slicing a person in two would never be frightened by a corpse.
A gust of night wind blew, chilling her through her clothes and pants.
Wen Yan shivered: “If I wait any longer, I’ll really fall ill.”
Had she known the Wen family wouldn’t die so easily, she would have brought a coat out.
She regretted rushing out so hastily.
The leader seemed to have come to his senses and took a step back, ordering his men:
“By any means necessary, kill her.”
The intimidating power of Wen Yan’s earlier strike had gradually faded with time.
As a killer, she had long since cast aside thoughts of life and death.
The black-clad assassins’ eyes regained their cold numbness. Upon receiving the order, they all raised their blades.
The air instantly tensed, the oppressive suffocation returning.
Some heard only a ringing in their ears and the pounding of their own hearts.
When such extreme pressure reaches its limit, it’s like a string about to snap.
Boom—
Countless black-clad figures moved.
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