Return of the Crowned Heiress

Chapter 357

Seven assassins were down, and ten remained.

The group leader felt a chill run down his spine. His wide, disbelieving eyes fixed on Felicia, who stood under the moonlight with an air of complete calm.

She was young, barely 19, yet her demeanor showed no fear or panic. She stood with her hands. clasped behind her back, her sharp, clear gaze scanning the assassins as if surveying a corpse

lineup.

The leader’s heart pounded against his ribs. He had spilled enough blood to feel invincible, yet for the first time, he found himself shaken–by a woman half his age.

“Watch out for her poison!” he barked, masking his unease with a gruff shout. “Surround her! Take her down!”

The assassins, seasoned professionals, didn’t hesitate. Despite the deadly toll Felicia’s poison had already taken, they quickly recalibrated their strategy. They tightened their encirclement, avoiding the wind’s direction and sparing themselves to avoid concentrated attacks. Their blades gleamed in the dim light.

Felicia rolled a small sphere in her palm, pretending to prepare for another throw. Her feint worked perfectly–one of the leading assassins flinched and sidestepped, breaking formation,

In that split–second distraction, Felicia flicked out a silver needle. It whistled through the air and embedded itself in the assassin’s neck.

The scream died in his throat. He crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

Nine more assassins left.

his breath. His patience snapped, and he

hand.

he could close the gap, however, another few assassins fell.

but unrelenting, had finally managed to free themselves. Now, with their backs to the wall,

didn’t waste the opportunity. Standing back, she sent needle after needle flying, each one finding its mark

began to

the battleground

on the ground. Not one

stepped forward, crouching beside the leader’s lifeless body. She rummaged through his clothing,

of who had sent

brushed over the thick calluses on his palms, telltale signs of years spent wielding weapons. A cold smile tugged at her lips. These were professional assassins. But who

her hands. Her calm, measured voice carried easily

then, he’d better watch

a response,

exchanged

first.”

when they considered Maurice’s erratic tendencies. It wouldn’t be the first time he had staged something reckless just to toy with

Seventeen dead assassins and four battered. bodyguards. And in the middle