The moon hung high, casting a silver sheen over the blood-soaked courtyard. The distant echoes of battle still rumbled through the Imperial City, but here, in the heart of the Temple District, silence reigned—a fragile, waiting thing, like a blade poised mid-swing.
Zhao Min pressed a hand to his side where a shallow cut seeped through his tunic. It wasn't deep, but it burned. A reminder that they had barely made it out of the Empress's trap alive.
The Wildcat crouched beside a fallen assassin, turning over his wrist. A symbol was burned into the flesh—a coiled serpent devouring its own tail. She clicked her tongue. "Serpents of the Red Veil. The Empress is sending her personal death squad now."
Liang Hua wiped her blade clean with slow precision, her jaw tight. "She's growing desperate."
"Desperate is when a noble bribes a captain to look the other way." The Wildcat smirked, but there was no humor in it. "This? This is her tightening the noose."
A gust of wind carried the scent of burning incense from the temple ruins behind them. The night was darker than before, thick with unseen eyes lurking in the shadows.
Zhao Min's fingers curled around his sword hilt. "Then we strike before she can tighten it further."
Liang Hua glanced at him, something unspoken passing between them. A promise. A warning. She nodded. "Agreed."
The Wildcat stood, stretching lazily. "Good. Because we have about a hundred breaths before the next wave arrives."
A sudden rustle from the rooftop sent them all into motion. Zhao Min's blade was out before he even registered the movement—a flicker of steel against the darkness. Liang Hua drew her dagger, eyes locked on the shifting shadows above.
A hooded figure leaped down, landing in a crouch. The mask was familiar—bone-white with intricate red carvings swirling across it. Another assassin. But this one… this one didn't move to attack.
Instead, he reached up and pulled his mask off, revealing a face Zhao Min hadn't seen in years.
Liang Hua inhaled sharply. "Impossible."
Zhao Min's grip on his sword faltered. He knew that face. Once, long ago, he had trusted it. "Jiang Wei?"
The man smirked, his features unchanged despite the passage of time. "Min. You look well for someone on the Empress's kill list."
Zhao Min's stomach twisted. Jiang Wei had been his brother-in-arms, a soldier who had bled beside him in the northern campaigns. But that was before he had vanished. Before rumors had whispered of his death… or worse, his defection.
The Wildcat's eyes flicked between them, fingers tapping idly against her hilt. "I take it you two have history."
Jiang Wei tilted his head. "You could say that." His gaze met Zhao Min's, something unreadable in his expression. "I was sent to kill you."
The words hung in the air, thick as fog. But then Jiang Wei did the strangest thing—he tossed his sword to the ground.
Liang Hua tensed. "What game are you playing?"
"No game." Jiang Wei's voice was calm. "I came to warn you. The Empress knows your next move. She's already set the trap."
Zhao Min stared at him, searching for deception. "And we're supposed to believe you?"
"You don't have to." Jiang Wei crossed his arms, unbothered. "But if you go to the Sun Palace tomorrow, you'll all be dead by dawn."
Silence stretched between them, heavy and uncertain.
Then the temple bells rang out, a warning in the night.
The Wildcat sighed. "Well. That sounds like our cue to leave."
Liang Hua looked at Jiang Wei, her expression unreadable. Then she turned to Zhao Min. "Do we trust him?"
Zhao Min exhaled slowly. The man before him was both a ghost from his past and a threat to his future. But he also knew one thing—Jiang Wei had never once turned his back in battle. Not when it mattered.
He made his decision. "We don't have a choice."
Jiang Wei smirked. "Smart decision."
The four of them vanished into the shadows just as the next wave of assassins arrived.
The gambit had begun. But now, the board had changed.