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.

breath. His patience snapped, and he surged forward,

hand.

close the gap, however, another few assassins fell. This time, it wasn’t Felicia’s

with their backs to the wall, they

opportunity. Standing back, she sent needle after needle flying, each one

tide began to

minutes later, the battleground

on the ground. Not one

stepped forward, crouching beside the leader’s lifeless body. She rummaged through his clothing, her expression unreadable. As expected, there was

who

the thick calluses on his palms, telltale signs of years spent wielding weapons. A cold smile tugged

dusting her hands. Her calm, measured voice carried easily to Maurice’s

Glovers this–I’ll get rid of the twin venomous creatures when I’m ready. Until then, he’d better watch his step. If he keeps pushing me, I won’t hesitate to

for a response, she turned and walked

exchanged uneasy

first.”

doubt crept in when they considered Maurice’s erratic tendencies. It

middle of it all, a calm, composed Felicia who had saved