Wang Gui clutched his waist and lay on the ground, like a river shrimp just pulled from the water. He curled up, stretched out, curled up again, stretched out—all to no avail, as the piercing pain refused to relent.
He cursed incessantly, "You wretch, I'll kill you for sure!"
At this moment, Zhang Xia was lying flat on the roof near the edge of the eaves, gazing downward. She saw dozens of Heavenly Strategy Army armored soldiers with blades clenched between their teeth, climbing up one by one in a queue. "Not good! They're about to reach the third floor!"
Wang Gui, hearing her warning, could no longer afford to dwell on his pain. He shoved the table and chairs back together and climbed upward, barely managing to squeeze into the roof's fracture just before the Heavenly Strategy Army could reach them.
On the rooftop, Wang Gui lay by the opening and hurled obscenities, "That damned wretch around Chen Ji..."
