In a farmhouse in a small mountain village, two groups of people were facing each other. Both sides were prepared for a fight, with roughly equal numbers. The atmosphere was tense... an ominous silence filled with the smell of gunpowder.,Only slightly lowered her head, holding a vase of flowers in her hand. This flower seemed unremarkable at first glance, but those who knew their stuff would recognize it as the internationally renowned "Drunken Orchid," something that even wealthy individuals struggled to obtain. Now, it was casually placed aside by her, seemingly indifferent.,After a while, Zi collected the things in his hand and slightly raised his head. His eyes, devoid of sorrow or joy, swept over the black people in the courtyard. They all held their breath. As professional assassins, they sensed danger in an instant and instinctively took defensive postures. Suddenly, a light chuckle broke the tense atmosphere.。