"Captain Fu. How...fucking...predictable." Li Hua's voice dripped with cold amusement as she tilted her head, a gesture that reminded Li Min of a panther sizing up its prey. The captain's weathered face remained impassive, but Li Min caught the slight tremor in his hands as they clasped behind his back. Even a veteran like Captain Fu wasn't immune to her sister's presence—that suffocating aura of barely contained violence that seemed to pulse outward with each breath.
"Hand over the command token, Li Hua, and I'll make your death quick." Captain Fu's voice dripped with cruel satisfaction, savoring this moment of perceived triumph over his former Master. "Though I must admit, watching you crawl on your knees and beg might be worth dragging this out. After all these years of you looking down on me, it's time you learned your place—on the ground, at my feet, right before I put a bullet through that arrogant head of yours."
He anticipated Li Hua to lash out in anger or perhaps even attacking but only silence followed his words, hanging heavily in the winter air like a suspended blade. The tension stretched taut as a bowstring, each heartbeat marking the passage of endless seconds.
Li Min found herself holding her breath, recognizing the deadly calm that had settled over her sister's features, the same expression she wore before rivers ran red with the blood of those who had dared to challenge her authority.
The first sound was barely a whisper—a soft, dangerous chuckle that sent ice through Li Min's veins. Then Li Hua threw back her head, her laughter exploding across the snow-covered courtyard like shattering glass, each echo a fresh blade against the silence. Blood-stained robes whipped around her in the bitter wind as she straightened, her movement liquid and lethal as a cobra rising to strike.
"Oh, my dear sister," Li Hua purred, her words dripping with saccharine malice. Her eyes fixed on the medal adorning Fu's chest—the twin swords beneath a crescent moon gleaming dully in the winter light. One elegant finger extended toward it, the gesture somehow more threatening than if she'd drawn her blade. "You gave him command of your death squadron? My death squadron?"
Each word fell like a hammer stroke as she turned in a lazy circle, drinking in the sight of three hundred rifles trained on her position. Her smile grew sharper with each revolution, as if the wall of steel and gunpowder surrounding her was nothing more than an amusing decoration. "Look at all these men, Captain Fu. The very soldiers I hand-picked, trained, and molded into the perfect shield for my precious little sister."
She paused mid-turn, stretching her arms out as if embracing old friends, the circle of armed men tightening reflexively at her movement. A few fingers twitched against triggers as she tilted her head with predatory curiosity. "But tell me, Captain Fu—does my sister know how many times you failed my trials before I sent you to defensive duties? How many times you writhed on the training ground floor, begging to be spared while these men watched their future commander weep?"
The words struck like poisoned arrows. Li Min felt the blood drain from her face, each revelation a fresh wound to her pride. The pedestal she'd placed Captain Fu upon crumbled beneath her feet, leaving nothing but the bitter taste of betrayal. Beside her, the captain's weathered features twisted into something feral—a beast cornered by its own past. His jaw clenched so hard the tendons in his neck stood out like steel cables beneath his skin, hands trembling behind his back with barely contained violence.
Li Hua's eyes gleamed with cruel satisfaction as she watched their composure splinter. "Oh, Captain Fu," she purred, each word precisely aimed to draw blood, "you were always such a disappointment. That's why you remained in my defense unit—where your cowardice wouldn't get anyone important killed." Her lips twisted into a contemptuous smile as she fixed her gaze on Li Min. "Though I shouldn't be surprised to find you standing behind him, dear sister. You've always been desperate to prove your worth by gathering up my discarded failures—as if commanding my leftovers could somehow make you my equal."
Li Min's nails dug crescents into her palms, her chest tight with a familiar cocktail of shame and rage. Twenty-eight years of living in her sister's shadow, of being "protected," of watching Li Hua systematically destroy anyone who dared get close to her—it all crystallized into a single moment of clarity. Her sister wasn't immortal. She wasn't untouchable. She was just another obstacle to remove.
"Fuck you, Li Hua!" Captain Fu shouted, his voice trembling slightly. "I deserved to be promoted; I was loyal until the very end and you didn't appreciate my value. I'll fucking kill you myself!"
The laughter dancing in Li Hua's eyes quickly disappeared as her sword flashed upward in a deadly arc, its polished surface catching the dim light. And like a hurricane, Li Hua swept through the men, her blade singing through the air with practiced precision. Blood sprayed in crimson arcs as she carved through their ranks, each stroke a death sentence delivered without hesitation. The first ten fell before they could even raise their weapons, their throats opened in perfect red smiles. The men stumbled backwards, their training forgotten in the face of such ruthless efficiency. Some tried to draw their guns, but Li Hua was already among them, a demon of steel and spite, her movements too fast for their trembling fingers to track.
"Captain Fu! For fuck's sake, do it now!" Li Min's voice cracked with desperation as she bolted toward the great hall, her designer heels clicking frantically against the blood-slicked concrete. The sound of dying men behind her only hastened her steps.
Captain Fu was stunned for a moment as he watched Li Hua slice through his men like paper dolls in a storm. His mouth went dry as understanding dawned - she wasn't just killing them; she was putting on a show. Each death was a message written in blood, and he was the intended recipient. His hands shook as he fumbled for the detonator in his pocket, backing away from the carnage one step at a time.
This was the first time he's ever seen Li Hua in battle and my god was it terrifying. Her movements were liquid poetry written in violence, each gesture precise and purposeful, like a master calligrapher painting death strokes in the air. It was mesmerizing and for a moment he had regretted his betrayal. Unfortunately, he couldn't just turn around and beg to be forgiven - for now, it's either him or her. And he was a greedy man.
Captain Fu's thumb descended on the detonator with cold precision. In the heartbeat that followed, the winter air erupted into chaos. The first explosion tore through the ranks like a demon's breath, and then—like a grotesque symphony—his men began to detonate one by one. Bodies burst apart in rapid succession, each explosion feeding into the next, painting the pristine snow with gore and viscera.
The courtyard transformed into hell's canvas—screams pierced the morning air only to be silenced mid-breath, replaced by the wet thud of flesh against snow and the sickening crack of splintering bone. Waves of heat rippled outward, melting the snow into crimson pools that steamed in the winter air. The scent of cordite mixed with the copper tang of blood, creating a suffocating miasma of death.
Captain Fu stood transfixed, rivulets of cold sweat trailing down his temples as he watched his squadron become an abstraction of red mist and scattered limbs. Each detonation illuminated his face in strobing flashes, reflecting in eyes that had gone wide with a mixture of horror and fascination. He had just sacrificed three hundred lives to create this barrier of carnage—his sin and salvation wrapped in a single moment of calculated brutality.
After forty minutes had past and the explosions have quieted, Captain Fu and Li Min walked through the aftermath, their shoes leaving dark impressions in the blood-soaked snow.
The carnage had achieved its purpose—at the center of the three-hundred bodies was Li Hua's mangled form, or what remained of it. Her once-pristine silk robes, now shredded and saturated with blood, clung to her broken frame like a funeral shroud. The explosive trap had torn through her legendary defenses, reducing the feared assassin to little more than scattered fragments of bone and tissue.
Yet, even in death, her face bore that same serene smile—a final mockery of their desperate gambit, as if she had known all along that this would be her end.
"Search every corner of the mansion." Li Min's shrill voice pierced through the blood-tainted air, her porcelain features twisting with an almost childish impatience. She lifted the hem of her Armani pants suit, stepping carefully around the carnage with obvious distaste. Her face, usually maintained through monthly visits to Seoul's most exclusive aesthetician, now bore an ugly sneer of triumph. "I want the token and all her shares. That bitch better not have hidden them somewhere dirty."
She wrinkled her nose at the metallic stench of blood, pulling out a silk handkerchief to cover her face.
Captain Fu managed a stiff nod, fighting the acidic burn of guilt and nausea that threatened to overwhelm him. His weathered hands, still trembling from the aftermath of what they'd done, clenched into white-knuckled fists at his sides. Three hundred men. His men. All sacrificed in a gambit that still felt more like a nightmare than a victory.