Chapter 10 – The First Strike

  The air was unnaturally still, the silence between the trees too heavy. The fire crackled softly, casting elongated shadows on the forest floor. Wei Jin shifted, his grip tightening around his sword. His breathing had steadied, but Shen Mu noticed the slight tremor in his fingers.

  “You’re getting braver,” Li Mei remarked casually, leaning back against a fallen log. “Before, you would have wanted to run.”

  Wei Jin exhaled sharply. “I still want to run.”

  “But you won’t,” Shen Mu said simply.

  Wei Jin shot him a look but didn’t deny it. There was something different about him—he still carried fear, but it no longer dictated his actions. He was starting to understand that running wouldn’t always save him.

  Li Mei smirked. “Good. Maybe you’ll actually be useful.”

  Wei Jin scowled, but before he could respond, Shen Mu raised a hand. His gaze flickered beyond the firelight, toward the darkness that stretched between the trees.

  “They’re here.”

  A whisper of movement.

  A flicker of steel.

  Then, a whistle cut through the air.

  Shen Mu tilted his head just slightly. A dagger, barely visible in the dim light, embedded itself into the tree behind him. Wei Jin flinched, but Shen Mu didn’t react.

  Li Mei was already moving. Her dagger flashed as she intercepted a second projectile, deflecting it mid-air. Wei Jin, slower but no longer frozen in fear, drew his sword as shadows burst from the treeline.

  The attackers were fast. No shouts, no war cries—just pure, ruthless efficiency.

  The first came straight for Shen Mu, his curved blade cutting through the air in a perfect arc.

  Then, he stumbled.

  A fraction of a second. A slight misstep, nothing that should have happened at that speed.

  Wei Jin took the opportunity. His sword lashed out, and though the attack wasn’t elegant, it was enough. The blade cut deep, and the man collapsed without a sound.

  The others hesitated. Li Mei took advantage of it, slipping past one attacker’s guard and driving her dagger into his side. Another lunged at her, but she twisted away, moving with practiced grace.

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  Shen Mu didn’t move. Not at first.

  Another assailant rushed toward him, blade gleaming in the firelight.

  Then, like before, the man stumbled.

  Not from an attack.

  Not from a counter.

  Just—an error. An error that shouldn’t have happened.

  Wei Jin noticed it this time. He didn’t understand it, but he noticed.

  He didn’t hesitate. He struck, his blade cutting across the man’s chest. The attacker fell, gasping, his movements unnatural, confused.

  The remaining figures melted back into the trees. The fight was over as quickly as it had begun.

  Wei Jin was panting, gripping his sword with white-knuckled fingers. He turned to Shen Mu, eyes narrowing. “What the hell was that?”

  Li Mei knelt by one of the fallen attackers, pulling down his mask. A young man, his face smooth, unscarred. But more importantly, a tattoo marred his neck—a black insignia, shaped like a bird’s talon grasping a blood-red moon.

  Li Mei’s expression darkened. “The Crimson Night Talons.”

  Wei Jin wiped sweat from his brow. “Mercenaries?”

  Li Mei nodded. “And expensive ones. Someone really wants us dead.”

  Shen Mu studied the mark. He had seen it before, though only in passing. The Crimson Night Talons didn’t take contracts lightly. They were precise, clinical. This wasn’t just a hit—it was a test.

  Someone was gauging their strength.

  And now, they had answers.

  Li Mei exhaled. “We should move.”

  Wei Jin frowned. “And if they follow?”

  Shen Mu smiled faintly. “Then we let them see what they came for.”

  As they packed up the camp, Wei Jin stole another glance at the fallen attackers, his mind still turning. He didn’t know what Shen Mu had done—but whatever it was, it was something he had never seen before.

  And he knew better than to ask. Shen Mu wasn’t one to hand out explanations, and Wei Jin was starting to realize that pressing him for answers was a waste of time. If he wanted to understand, he’d have to wait. Or, perhaps, earn the right to know.

  That thought unsettled him more than the attack itself.