(At night, Red Light District of Golden Prosperity City)
Two young masters of the Jian family staggered through the dimly lit streets, their expensive robes slightly disheveled, the scent of wine and perfume clinging to their clothes. Their laughter echoed through the empty alleys as one of them swayed, barely catching himself on his companion's shoulder.
"Hah! Did you see the way she looked at me?" slurred the first, his face flushed with drunken pride. "I swear, she didn't want me to leave!"
The second scoffed, waving his hand lazily. "You? Please. She was just doing her job. Now, that red-dressed beauty I had, now she was something else. Like a fairy descended from the heavens…" His words trailed off into a dreamy sigh as he stumbled over a loose stone, nearly sending them both tumbling.
The first young master laughed, steadying his friend. "Fairy? More like a demon! She probably tricked you into spending twice as much!"
They both burst into drunken chuckles, leaning on each other as they continued down the road, oblivious to the shadows watching from the corners of the city.
As the two drunken young masters stumbled through the narrow alleyway, their laughter turned to hushed murmurs. The shortcut to the Jian Family's temporary residence was dimly lit, the flickering lanterns barely reaching the damp stone walls. Shadows stretched long and eerie, yet in their intoxicated state, neither of them paid much attention.
Behind them, unseen in the darkness, their shadow guards followed silently, their presence undetectable even to the night itself.
"Damn, it's colder here," one of the young masters muttered, rubbing his arms.
His companion hiccupped, waving a dismissive hand. "Bah, stop whining. The faster we—"
His words died in his throat as they turned a corner and saw him.
A lone figure stood in the middle of the alley, as still as a specter, an unsettling aura hanging around him like a shroud. Strapped to his waist were a sword and a blade, while a spear and a heavy axe rested against his back, their polished edges reflecting the dim lantern light. His face remained hidden beneath a deep hood, but the faint glow revealed the sharp glint of his eyes. They were deep, cold, and watching them.
The alley suddenly felt suffocating. The young master continued walking forward as if they had not seen him.
After they passed, the figure took a slow step forward, his boots pressing against the damp stone of the alleyway. The drunken young masters barely noticed, too caught up in their slurred conversation, but the shadow guards lurking in the darkness tensed.
*Step*
Another step. The air grew heavy, as if the alley itself had shrunk, trapping them in the figure's presence.
Then, in a blur of movement, the shadow guards struck. Black silhouettes shot from the darkness, their daggers gleaming as they aimed for the figure's vital points. Yet, just as swiftly, the figure moved.
*Whoosh*
His body tilting, weaving through the attacks like a phantom. A sword flashed from his waist, cold steel singing through the air.
*Splurt Thump*
A muffled grunt. A guard staggered back, clutching his chest where fresh blood now seeped through his robes. The others did not falter. They twisted their bodies mid-air, adjusting their strikes, determined to overwhelm him. The figure stepped forward again, unbothered, his movements calm, precise.
A spear swung off his back. The narrow alley should have limited his range, yet the moment the weapon was in his grip, it danced like an extension of his will. A guard raised his dagger to parry, but he was too slow. The spear's shaft struck his ribs, sending him crashing into the wall.
*Splurt BAM!*
The last two shadow guards hesitated, their instincts screaming at them that something was wrong. The air felt different, heavier, as if the alley itself had become an arena, the figure dictating its rules.
The figure's movements were fluid and unhurried, as though he had all the time in the world. The remaining two shadow guards circled him cautiously, but their hands trembled, their faces pale. They had already seen their comrades fall, and they could feel the weight of impending death in the air.
Without warning, the figure reached behind him, pulling the heavy axe from his back. Its sharp edge gleamed under the dim light of the alley, the weight of it seeming to distort the air itself. The first guard lunged forward, dagger raised in a desperate attempt to strike, but the figure was faster.
*Whoosh*
With a swift motion, he swung the axe sideways in a brutal arc. The blade connected with the guard's midsection with a sickening thud. The force of the strike cleaved through flesh, bone, and sinew with a sound like thunder. The guard's body fell in two halves, the top half crumpling to the ground in a bloody heap, while the bottom half fell to its knees before collapsing forward, still twitching as the life drained from it.
*Thud Thump*
The last guard froze, wide-eyed, staring at his fallen companion's mangled form. His breath came in ragged gasps, the terror overtaking his senses. He stepped back, trying to retreat, but the figure's blade was already in motion.
In a blur, the figure unsheathed the blade at his waist, its edge shimmering as it cut through the air. The guard raised his arm in a futile attempt to block, but the figure was too quick. The blade sliced cleanly through his neck, the sharp steel biting into flesh with precision. Blood sprayed from the gaping wound as the guard's head toppled from his shoulders, rolling onto the cobblestones in a grim arc.
*Slick Thump*
The body swayed for a moment before it crumpled to the ground, lifeless. The alley fell silent, save for the soft drip of blood pooling around the fallen bodies, and the quiet, steady breathing of the figure who stood, unfazed, among the carnage.
The young masters, still swaying unsteadily, finally noticed the commotion and turned.
*Thump*
Just in time to see the last one of their guards collapse to the ground.
The first young master Jian Zhi gulped, his drunken haze lifting just slightly. "Hey... you—"
The figure didn't respond. He merely tilted his head ever so slightly, his presence pressing down like a silent storm waiting to break.
The second young master Jian Dong took an uneasy step back. "Oi... we don't want trouble."
Still, no answer.
"W-Who are you?!" one of them stammered, his drunken haze fading into cold fear when he finally noticed the corpses around the figure.
The figure did not answer. He simply took another slow, deliberate step forward, his gaze never leaving the two young masters as they stumbled back, eyes wide with terror. The atmosphere thickened, each second stretching longer than the last as the two men's drunken haze collided with the sharp clarity of imminent death.
Jian Zhi, his face pale and trembling, drew a dagger in a desperate, clumsy motion. His hand shook uncontrollably, and his legs were unsteady, barely keeping him upright. "W-who are you?" he stammered, his voice cracking with fear.
The figure did not respond. He simply moved, faster than the human eye could track. In an instant, the blade was at Jian Zhi's throat. Before the young master could even react, the figure's blade sliced through his skin, cleanly, with a precision that could only come from years of lethal training. Blood spurted from the wound, and Jian Zhi's eyes went wide in shock, his hands instinctively clutching at his throat, but it was too late.
*Splurt Thump*
With a swift twist, the figure yanked the blade free, and Jian Zhi's body collapsed to the ground with a soft thud, his life extinguished in the blink of an eye.
Jian Dong, still stumbling back, his mind sluggish from alcohol and panic, could hardly process what had just happened. His eyes flickered between the lifeless body of his cousin and the figure standing before him, his breath catching in his throat.
He opened his mouth to scream, to beg, but before the words could form, the figure was upon him. The blade flashed again, slicing through the air with deadly accuracy. Jian Dong's last breath caught in his chest as the figure's sword found its mark, slashing through his torso with brutal efficiency.
"Ah.." *Splurt Thump*
Jian Dong crumpled to the ground, his eyes wide in disbelief as blood pooled around him, staining the cobblestones. His hands reached out toward the figure, but they were weak and slow, unable to grasp anything.
Mo Tian stood over him for a moment, watching the final remnants of life slip away from the young master. Then, with a swift motion, he sheathed his blade and reached for the axe that had dropped beside him earlier. His movements were calm, methodical, as though performing a simple task, not a murder.
"That was easier than I thought. Although the shadow guards were all first-rate martial artist, using the 'Heavenly Demon Weapons Art' watered down version, I could easily dismantle them even though I am still a third-rate."
Once his weapons were secured, Mo Tian gave one last glance at the bodies lying at his feet. He turned away and began walking down the alley, his footsteps steady and unhurried. The night swallowed him up as he disappeared into the shadows, leaving behind nothing but the cold, quiet aftermath of death.
The alley was still, the only sound the soft rustling of the wind as it passed over the lifeless forms, and the faint drip of blood seeping into the ground. The city, oblivious to the carnage that had unfolded just moments ago, continued its night, unaware of the danger lurking in its midst.
...
(The next morning, in the Jian Family Head's Temporary Office in Golden Prosperity City)
The heavy wooden doors to the Jian Family Head's office burst open with a resounding thud, the force of the entrance shaking the bronze candle holders along the walls. A sharp gust of air followed as the Butler stormed inside, his usually composed demeanor shattered by urgency. His robes were slightly disheveled, a rare sight for the ever-meticulous servant, and his breath came in quick, uneven draws as if he had sprinted through the halls.
"Family Head! A disaster, no, a massacre has occurred!" the Butler's voice rang through the chamber, his face pale with both shock and rage. He barely paused to catch his breath before continuing, "Young Master Jian Zhi and Young Master Jian Dong were slaughtered in the alleyway behind the merchant district. Their bodies were left in the open like discarded trash. The shadow guards are dead. No survivors. It was a clean and efficient execution."
The Jian Family Head, Jian Xuan, sat rigid behind his grand wooden desk, his fingers tightening over the armrests of his chair. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows across his face, but his eyes remained sharp, betraying the storm brewing within. He did not speak, waiting for the Butler to continue.
The Butler's voice grew heavier, his next words laced with grave implications. "Family Head… the young masters who were killed…" he hesitated, then pressed on, "They were the grandsons of Elder Jian Wei and Elder Jian Guang, two of the most vocal pro-war activists in the council. This was no common street killing. This was deliberate."
Silence swallowed the room. Jian Xuan's jaw clenched, the veins on his temple subtly pulsing as he processed the weight of the report. His gaze darkened like an approaching storm. If this was a targeted strike against the pro-war faction, then it was more than just an act of violence. It was a declaration.
The Butler took a step closer, lowering his voice but keeping the urgency intact. "Elder Jian Wei and Elder Jian Guang will not take this lightly. If they suspect foul play from the other noble families, they will push for immediate retaliation. The balance in the family meeting is at risk, Family Head."
Jian Xuan exhaled slowly, his fingers tapping against the desk in deep thought. The massacre wasn't just a bloodstained tragedy. It was a fuse, waiting to ignite a war that the Jian Family had barely been holding back for more than half a year.
Jian Xuan stormed through the halls of the Jian estate, his robes billowing behind him as he marched with unrelenting urgency. The moment the Butler had delivered the news, the elders would receive the news as well. Jian Xuan knew what would follow.
Elder Jian Wei and Elder Jian Guang were not men of patience. The deaths of their grandsons would not go unanswered, and if they acted recklessly, the fragile ceasefire between the families would shatter into all-out war.
As he burst into the main gathering hall, the heavy scent of blood clung to the air, though no corpses remained in sight. The two elders stood near the central table, their expressions grim, their hands stained with violence. Around them, trusted enforcers of the Jian Family stood silent, their eyes flickering with the remnants of recent slaughter.
Jian Xuan's gaze swept the room, his heart sinking. "Tell me you didn't," he said, his voice cold but edged with barely contained fury.
Elder Jian Wei turned to him, his aged features hardened like stone. "They took our kin, Family Head. We took theirs." His voice was calm, but the weight behind it was undeniable.
Jian Xuan clenched his fists. "Do you have any idea what you've done? The Zheng and Jing families…"
"They will find nothing," Elder Jian Guang interrupted, brushing off the lingering blood from his sleeve. "No bodies, no witnesses. Just disappearances in the night, we did it a different way from our grandsons died. For the sake of the Family Head."
Jian Xuan exhaled sharply, his fingers digging into the table's polished wood. He was too late. The retaliation had already begun, and even if no evidence remained, suspicion alone could be enough to set the city aflame.
But for now, there was still a chance to keep the fragile peace from breaking entirely