The night was still, shrouded in shadows under a sky of moonlit darkness. A thin mist lay low, curling around the Duō Manor as if woven by unseen hands. For most, it was a night like any other. But for two unsuspecting guards, Wang and Li, tonight was the end.
Duō Yi crouched in the thick shadows of a twisted old tree, clothed in midnight black. His expression was serene, almost at peace, the deadly purpose in his heart concealed beneath the calm exterior.
In his past life, moments like this had been routine—a quiet elimination in the night, a lesson left unspoken but forever remembered.
The guards were seated by the stone lanterns near the pagoda gate, a faint glow illuminating their faces. They laughed quietly to themselves, voices laced with arrogance, blissfully unaware of the retribution creeping toward them.
Duō Yi slipped through the shadows, his steps silent as whispers on the wind. He paused, watching as Wang took a deep swig from a jug, passing it to Li, who took a long gulp. They were relaxed, no trace of vigilance—yet it wasn't the drink that dulled their senses. They felt invincible.
A cruel smile curved Duō Yi's lips. He took a slow breath, savoring the anticipation of what was to come.
THUD!
The guards straightened, squinting into the darkness. Duō Yi stayed still, waiting, knowing the sound would set their nerves on edge. He could feel it—the subtle change in their breathing, the slight hitch of uncertainty.
"Who's there?" Wang's voice echoed, brimming with forced bravado.
Silence.
Li scoffed. "Probably a stray dog. Come on, finish your drink."
But something in the air unsettled him. Duō Yi watched him shift in his seat, his gaze flickering around nervously.
Suddenly, Duō Yi appeared just close enough for them to catch a hint of his silhouette, then disappeared again into the mist. The flash was enough to seed terror in their hearts.
The guards exchanged glances, the cockiness in their expressions draining into something far colder. Wang's hand moved to his sword.
"Come out and show yourself!" he demanded, though his voice wavered.
Duō Yi answered with silence, letting it stretch until their nerves began to fray. Finally, he stepped out into the faint light, just within their view. His white hair peeked out from beneath his black hood, his face an unreadable mask, his eyes void of warmth.
The guards froze. For the first time, they understood that the boy they had ridiculed might be someone else entirely.
"Y-Young Master," Li stammered, forcing a laugh. "What... what are you doing out here?"
Duō Yi said nothing, his gaze like frost on their skin. He took a step forward, and they instinctively moved back, weapons at the ready. But Duō Yi made no move toward them. Instead, he gestured, beckoning them closer.
Panic rose in Wang's eyes, his knuckles whitening as he gripped his sword.
"What are you playing at, Duō Yi?"
Duō Yi chuckled softly, a sound devoid of mirth. "Playing? I'm simply... repaying kindness with kindness."
His tone was polite, almost gentle, yet laced with a sinister edge. He flicked his wrist, sending a small, glinting dart into the air. It found its mark with perfect precision, striking Wang's wrist and causing him to drop his sword.
Wang yelped, clutching his bleeding wrist. His face twisted with rage and fear.
"You... you little wretch!"
Duō Yi's smile widened, predatory and calm. He stepped forward and struck, his movements a graceful dance of cruelty. His staff hit Wang's knee, shattering bone with a sickening CRACK.
Wang collapsed with a scream, his voice echoing in the stillness.
Li took a stumbling step back, his face pale.
"You don't have to do this, Young Master," Li pleaded, his eyes wide with terror. "W-We're sorry, all right? It was just a joke! Just... just let us go!"
Duō Yi's face was a mask of calm, his voice gentle.
"Go? Of course..."
Li's eyes lit up with desperate hope, thinking perhaps he would be spared.
"Go," Duō Yi continued, leaning down to speak softly into his ear, "... to whatever hell awaits you."
In one swift motion, Duō Yi slammed his staff into Li's throat, cutting off his pleas. Li gasped, clawing at his throat, his body writhing in silent agony as his vision blurred.
Duō Yi watched, his expression serene, as the guard's body slumped to the ground, his breath shallow.
Wang, still cradling his shattered knee, watched in horror.
"Why?" he croaked, his voice thick with pain and disbelief. "We're... we're the clan's guards! You're... you're nothing but..."
Duō Yi crouched beside him, his blue eyes reflecting Wang's terror.
"Nothing but what?" he whispered, his tone almost playful.
Wang choked on his words, his face contorted in a mix of rage and despair. But Duō Yi did not allow him the satisfaction of a reply. He struck again, his staff moving with precision, breaking bone with each deliberate impact.
It was slow, methodical—an art form, painted in pain and silence. Each strike was a reminder of every jeer, every slight, every whisper of ridicule.
Finally, when the guards' bodies lay still, silence returned to the night.
Duō Yi stood over them, his face unreadable as he regarded his handiwork. The mist had thickened, as if the night itself sought to conceal what had transpired here.
From the shadows, a soft footstep broke the stillness. Elder Lĭ emerged, his face calm as he regarded the fallen guards. His gaze then lifted, fixing on the tree where Duō Yi was concealed.
With a slight smile, Elder Lĭ gave him a nod.
"Go," he said, his voice calm yet firm. "I'll handle it."
For a brief moment, Duō Yi felt a flicker of surprise. But he trusted Elder Lĭ's words, inclining his head in silent acknowledgment before melting into the darkness, leaving no trace of his presence.
As he moved through the night, his mind was clear,his heart steady. He had sent his message.