She slowly raised her head and looked at the barbarian aristocrats with different minds. Seeing that some of them were awe inspired, some were thoughtful, some were hesitant and trembling, she sneered and said, "I know that you are not all of one mind. Some of you may be thinking about leaving this room today and selling out this old woman to Jia Lai. Let me say something, cowards, if we succeed this time, it will also save your life. There is no harm to you. If we fail, we won't involve you who are bystanders either. On the other hand, it's the rats who wanted to secretly report this, do you think Jia Lai, that ominous killing star, will consider your goodwill, or will he think that you are too close to us old things who wanted to find death and are suspicious?"

The middle-aged man filled with rage just now jumped up and said, "You are right, Third Madame, I will follow you!"

In these years, the aristocrats of the Eighteen Tribes had been oppressed too much by Jia Lai Ying Huo. The aristocrats hated him, but were also afraid of his cruel and totalitarian policies. At this time, when a leader came out, many angry people immediately followed along.

Madame Hong Xia turned to the chief: "In this matter, even if we wreck our brains thinking, it would still be useless. We have to rely on the chief."

The chief, in front of the eyes of everyone, sat stiffly as if wanting to evaporate for a moment, steaming the whole sunless room into a hazy vapor. He then finally bit down and smacked his thigh: "Third Madame give your orders!"

When the country was in danger, there had to be bloody conflicts between the parties in power — no matter whether it was Great Liang or the Eighteen Tribes of Heavenly Wolf. Even the foreigners trapped in Jiangnan could not escape this situation of being forced to make changes, this process contained ten parts of danger, a hundred parts of chances, taking the next step forward was prosperity, but one step backwards may be the extinction of the country.

At this time, a surging tide pervaded the Eighteen Tribes of the Northern Barbarians, not to mention the aristocrats of big surnames organized their own forces.

The next night, a swallow-like shadow shot up the watchtower of the Eighteen Tribes. It was originally funded by the foreigners, at first, the foreigners were also responsible for the maintenance here. But right now, as the Westerners did not even have enough to take care of themselves, most of the machines on the watchtower had failed, their only function left was to be decorations.