When Zhou Yitang strode directly toward the nameless old matron, even knowing full well that she had only recently recovered from her injuries and her martial prowess was limited to the realm of the Third Rank—far inferior to the old matron—Chen Yi's heart inexplicably settled.
For as long as he could remember, this master of his had been his greatest pillar of support.
It was precisely because of this that Chen Yi dared to storm the inner palace on this occasion.
As Zhou Yitang approached, the nameless old matron's aged eyebrows furrowed deeply, almost knitting together. Her arm lifted ever so slightly.
And in the vast square in front of the palace, Zhou Yitang's icy voice echoed:
"You may proceed."
Chen Yi quickened his pace slightly.
The nameless old matron shot him a sidelong glance, her voice booming like a deafening thunderclap:
"Do you dare?"
