The bodies littered beneath her.
Crimson dyed the ground like poppy fields in full bloom. It was a stark contrast to the pure white snow that had fallen the night before.
She heaved a sigh of relief as she wiped her blade clean on the hem of her silk robes.
"What a mess." She whispered sarcastically, her breath creating delicate wisps of frost in the frigid morning air. The carnage around her seemed almost peaceful now, like a grotesque painting frozen in time.
Slowly, she glanced down at her feet, which were soaked in warm blood that pooled around her delicate slippers. The once-pristine fabric was now stained a deep burgundy, the color seeping through the intricate embroidery like wine through lace.
Unnerved by the way the blood seemed to coat her toes like a second skin, she took a tentative step backward. The sticky liquid made a soft squelching sound beneath her feet, and she found herself grimacing at the sensation. It reminded her of walking through mud after a spring rain, except this particular puddle was still warm and carried the metallic scent of death.
She turned around and looked up at her three-story mansion, the grand structure loomed before her like a silent witness to the morning's events, its ornate windows reflecting the pale winter sun.
Breakfast of Champions, she thought, a smirk playing across her dry and cracked lips. She then made her way towards the large patio, her silk slippers leaving a trail of crimson footprints across the fresh snow, each step marking her path like breadcrumbs in a macabre fairy tale.
A sudden rush of footsteps echoed in the great hall that led to the patio doors. The sound reverberated off the marble floors creating a thunderous cacophony that shattered the eerie tranquility of the morning.
Her muscles tensed instinctively, fingers tightening around the hilt of her blade as she paused mid-step. The sound grew closer, each footfall a reminder that her morning's work might not yet be finished.
"100...150...200...300?" She counted, her eyebrows raising slightly.
Men in tactical black uniforms swarmed around her, their movements precise and coordinated. Each wore heavy bulletproof vests and carried an arsenal of military-grade weapons—both firearms and blades gleaming with lethal promise.
"Oh? For me?" She purred, a predatory smile spreading across her blood-flecked face. The morning's earlier entertainment had merely been an appetizer, it seemed. Her blade hummed with anticipation, still warm from its previous dance, as she shifted her weight ever so slightly.
These men might have come prepared for a monster, but they had no idea what kind of demon they were truly facing.
The three hundred men formed a tight circle around her, their weapons trained on her slender form with military precision - she couldn't help but feel a delicious thrill course through her veins.
Really, they should have brought more men, she thought.
Like statues, the heavily armed men stood frozen in their positions, muscles coiled tight with anticipation. Their breath came out in white puffs in the cold morning air, a stark contrast to her own calm, measured breathing. She could smell their fear—subtle but unmistakable.
Before she could make her move, the soft click clack of heels echoed through the tense silence, drawing every eye except hers. She didn't need to look to know who approached—that distinctive stride, arrogant and measured, could only belong to one person.
"Li Hua. Sister." A beautiful voice rang out, each syllable dripping with honeyed venom. A smile tugged at Li Hua's lips, but she kept her eyes fixed on the ring of soldiers before her. Her sister always did have a flair for dramatic entrances, especially when blood had already been spilled.
"Li Min. How nice of you to drop by." Li Hua spoke dryly.
"Haha. Sister, you were always such a gracious host. Look at this scene, it's fantastic. Though, you could've worn something nicer." Li Min gestured dismissively at Li Hua's blood-spattered silk pajamas.
"You jest, sister. Even after all these years, your thoughts still drift to such trivial matters, such as fashion?" Li Hua's fingers tightened imperceptibly around her weapon's hilt. "Though I must say, your timing is impeccable as always. Did you orchestrate this little morning exercise, or are you merely here to observe the aftermath?"
A laughter escaped Li Min's throat, musical and sharp like breaking glass. She walked forward onto the patio but still remembered to keep her distance. "Oh, dear sister," Li Min purred, "When have I ever been content with merely observing?"
Li Hua's eyes snapped to her sister with the precision of a predator selecting its prey. The temperature seemed to plummet as their gazes locked, and for the first time in years, Li Min felt truly seen by her sister but for some reason, whatever resided behind those eyes didn't feel human—it was dark, savage, and hungry. A primal fear bloomed in Li Min's chest as she gripped the hem of her green Armani suit jacket, her knuckles turning white.
She had seen that look countless times, but never directed at her. Not until now.
She turned away slightly, her practiced smile faltering for just a heartbeat. Fuck, Li Hua. What the fuck are you? she thought to herself.
"Ahem." A low cough cut through the tension like a blade through silk. Li Min's shoulders relaxed as she recognized the sound. It was a welcome interruption, though she couldn't quite decide if it was well-timed or catastrophically poor.
"Mistress Li, would you please allow me to have a few words?" A middle-aged man spoke as he stepped out of the formation. Li Min watched as her sister's gaze shifted from her to the man, that predatory focus never wavering.
The man was tall and lean, with graying temples that betrayed his otherwise youthful appearance.