The rain showed no sign of letting up. The number of black-clad attackers was slowly dwindling, but the blood pooling on the ground had congealed into a thick puddle—so much that even the downpour couldn't wash it away. That alone spoke volumes about how much blood had been spilled...
Left Shore and Dorian Owen had been fighting non-stop, and their movements were gradually slowing. Serena could tell they were reaching their limits.
Serena frowned, her headache worsening. If this kept up, they were bound to suffer a major setback.
Left Shore and Dorian Owen were assassins—their explosive power was impressive, but prolonged combat was their weakness. If the fight dragged on, their advantage would turn into a liability.
These attackers were after the Valley Master and Dr. Marcus Guile. If those two could escape, maybe the black-clad men would stop chasing them?
Serena, with the Snow Wolf at her side, circled back to the carriage: "We'll go first—Left Shore and Dorian Owen will cover our retreat."
"Good timing. Old Guile's wound needs immediate attention. If we wait any longer, I’m afraid something will go wrong." The Valley Master didn’t object—in fact, he agreed.
The surrounding guards took one look and knew these black-clad men wouldn’t be driven off anytime soon. Hearing Serena’s order, they immediately moved to ready the carriage.
Serena sat outside the carriage, the Snow Wolf waiting beside her. The driver cracked his whip, and the carriage began to inch forward through the rain.
The narrow path was a sea of mud. The wheels kept getting stuck, and the horses struggled to pull the carriage—the pace was agonizingly slow.