Gu Wei didn't even spare a glance at the lifeless corpse beneath his feet. With a casual flick of his sleeve, he fanned himself lightly, as though brushing away a bothersome fly.
"Huu... It's too hot. What kind of hellish life is this? On a night like this, I should be bathing with lovely maidens. And instead? Here I am, sweating and toiling like a damned laborer. I really don't feel like moving."
Behind him, one of the four middle-aged brothers chuckled and spoke up.
"Brother Gu Wei, if you're not in the mood, take it easy. The four of us can handle this. You know we love nothing more than a stiff drink and a good brawl, hot or cold. Haha…"
With lazy grins and twitching fingers, the four brothers looked like they were itching to move. Gu Wei turned to them with a smirk.
"Ho ho... Good lads. When this is all over, I'll treat you to the strongest brew I can find. But first, lend me a hand, will you? I'm burning up here. Heh heh heh."
He stepped aside lazily. The four brothers, clearly pleased, cracked their knuckles and got into position.
The eldest of them glanced back and called out to the group of blood-guzzling lunatics.
"Why don't you lot join us? If you're late, you might miss all the fun. Heh heh heh."
The Crimson Crows said nothing in return. They simply began advancing.
The guards didn't wait. With a shout, they charged forward.
"Hyaaah!"
"Raaaah!"
The four brothers and the four Crimson Crows didn't even flinch. They stood calm, unmoving.
Gu Wei stepped back slowly, observing.
The Crimson Crows reached for the curved blades strapped at their waists, drawing them in fluid motion as they charged into the oncoming mass. Their blades spun, slashed, and hacked in a relentless whirlwind.
Swish! Swish! Swish! Thump! Crack!
Slash! Splat!
Gush! Squelch!
The four middle brothers didn't use weapons. They dove in barehanded, dodging attacks with inhuman speed. They leapt, grappled, twisted limbs, shattered bones, gouged out eyes, clawed throats, and bit off ears. Like starving tigers, they tore through the guards with savage brutality.
Whish! Whish! Whish!
Whee! Thunk! Tear!
"Gaaaaah!"
"Mother...!"
The clash of blades, bones breaking, blood spraying, cries of agony, and frenzied roars created a deafening storm of chaos.
This wasn't a duel between martial warriors. This wasn't man versus man. This was a pack of wild beasts tearing through helpless prey.
Under the storm of the Crimson Crows' blades, men lost arms, legs, guts, and even their upper torsos. Heads were separated, bodies mangled beyond recognition.
Even after their enemies had fallen, the fiends hacked and carved, leaving no corpse intact. Their own bodies were soaked in blood, faces gleaming with twisted delight. Their eyes shimmered like beasts drunk on the scent of death.
Those killed by the brothers were left whole, but no less broken—twisted limbs, shattered spines, snapped necks. Their expressions were frozen in horror and pain, mouths agape, eyes wide and bloodshot.
The courtyard that moments ago teemed with life now lay silent and soaked in gore. Bodies littered the ground in pieces, and pools of blood glistened under the moonless sky.
Gu Wei stepped forward.
"All done, eh? That was fast."
He strolled through the corpses, casually inspecting the carnage. Spotting one who was still twitching, he grinned and stomped down on the man's neck.
Crunch! Squelch!
One last soul sent to the abyss.
Turning toward the darkened, silent house, he called out in a mocking voice:
"Hahaha... Still hiding in your shell like a turtle? Not tired of cowering yet? Come on out and join the fun, will you?"
There was no answer from inside the house.
Time passed in silence. Not a single sound or movement emerged. Losing patience, Gu Wei gave a slight nod to his four middle-ranked brothers.
The four exchanged a glance, then stepped toward the shadowy entrance. Without hesitation, Number Four strode in first.
"Number Four, be careful!" shouted Number One, the eldest.
_There's an old saying in the martial world—'Those who dare not enter the dark never return with the truth._
But Number Four didn't seem to care. He kept walking into the darkness as if drawn forward by something unseen.
Moments later—
"Yah!"
A fierce cry split the air, followed by the sharp sound of clashing blows. Just by the sound, one could tell he was up against more than one person. Yet, just as quickly as it began, the skirmish went quiet again.
Under the flickering lantern light outside, Gu Wei narrowed his eyes, thoughts swirling. Without a word, he plucked a lantern from a nearby post and hurled it into the house.
The lantern arced through the air and tumbled inside.
The flare of light illuminated the interior, revealing two figures in black wielding blades… and another figure in black, unarmed.
Before Number Four could even distinguish friend from foe, the two armed assassins lunged toward the unarmed man.
"Shhk! Shhk!"
The blade slashes were quick—too quick. In the moment of light, their swords glinted like lightning.
But the unarmed figure in black moved even faster. As the slashes came in, he vanished sideways in a blur, evading both attacks with ghostlike speed.
Reacting on instinct, Number Four launched a heavy fist toward the black-robed figure's chest.
"Whsh!"
But the man's movements were terrifyingly swift.
Before Number Four realized it, he had lunged too far forward and somehow, impossibly, ended up directly beneath the swords of the two attackers.
"Shhk!" "Shhup!" "Agh!"
A blade cleaved through his right arm at the elbow.
It all happened in the blink of an eye.
Number Four, the two swordsmen, and the unarmed black-robed man had all fallen under his control—and they didn't even realize it until it was too late.
Number Four let out a blood-curdling scream as he collapsed. Only then did he recall: the black-robed man had dodged his punch, slipped behind him in a blur, and then shoved him forward into the path of the oncoming blades.
It had happened so fast he couldn't even retract his fist. The swordsmen couldn't stop their slashes. And so, his own arm was severed.
The lantern light sputtered and died.
Darkness reclaimed the room, and silence returned.
A short while later—
Step... step... step...
Footsteps echoed as Number Four stumbled out of the house. His face was pale as death, his eyes glazed. In one hand, he held… his severed arm. His right arm had been cleanly cut at the elbow, blood pouring like a crimson waterfall.
"Number Four!"
His three elder brothers rushed forward and caught him before he fell.
As they took him into their arms, he collapsed like a wilted flower, unconscious.
"Number Four!" "He's lost too much blood..."
But the eldest refused to believe it.
"Just this kind of wound? It shouldn't be fatal…"
He examined Number Four's left bracer, only for his expression to darken.
"Nooo!. Number Four's martial foundation is ruined. His internal innergy… His cultivation… All gone."
"Damn…"
The other two trembled.
They now realized whoever lurked in the darkness was not just dangerous, but utterly terrifying.
To cripple a seasoned martial artist like Number Four in mere seconds?
That wasn't something an ordinary person could accomplish.
Though they hadn't seen everything, they had seen the flashing blades. And from Number Four's wound, it was clear the enemy was a swordsman.
Fear crept into their hearts.
Whatever was hiding in that house, it moved like a ghost and struck like a devil. Even they, experienced as they were, no longer had the confidence to face it head-on.
Still, the eldest brother didn't waste time.
He pressed key pressure points around Number Four's wound to stop the bleeding, then shoved three pills into his mouth and adjusted his throat to help him swallow. Finally, he bound the stump with tight bandages.
The medicine was potent.
Number Four regained consciousness, blinking back into awareness. He struggled to sit up, pushing himself upright from the ground. But standing… was impossible. He tried again. And again. Nothing worked.
He glanced down at his legs and froze.
Not just his legs everything below his waist refused to respond.
The three elder brothers watching from nearby understood immediately.
The eldest clenched his jaw. His eyes glinted with fury beneath the lantern light, staring into the darkness of the house as he roared:
"Who did this to our Fourth Brother?! Come out! Face us like men! Stop hiding in the shadows like cowards! Are you swordsmen or thieves? You strike from the dark and don't even dare face your enemy? Come out, if you have even a shred of backbone!"
No answer came from within the house.
Only silence.
He continued, voice rising:
"Haha! What a pathetic pair of blade-wielding cowards. Come on out and face us like warriors!"
Whoosh—!
A flying blade tore through the air, screaming out of the house with deadly force aimed straight at the throat of the shouting eldest brother.
He smirked, as if unimpressed.
"Oh? Is that all you've got?"
Just before the blade reached him, he shifted slightly to evade it with ease, but at that very moment, a small hidden projectile struck the spinning blade midair.
Clink—Whup—!
The blade was knocked off its course and veered directly into the neck of Number Three, who had been standing just beside him.
Thuck! "Guh…!" Thud!
Number Three clutched his throat, eyes bulging. He toppled like a felled tree. Blood and foam gushed from his mouth as he spasmed violently, choking and kicking.
But within moments he stilled.
He was dead.
"Third Brother!"
Only then did Gu Wei and Blood Raven realize the gravity of the situation.
The enemy within was not their equal not even close. They were dealing with a foe far more terrifying.
What had just happened took place within the span of a heartbeat.
Gu Wei stepped forward and looked down at the blade lodged in Third Brother's neck. His vision dimmed for a second.
Then he lifted his voice toward the house.
"We've made a mistake."
He inhaled sharply.
"Is that you, Twin Blades?"
"We're on the same side, aren't we? Please come out. This… this was all a misunderstanding."
Still, no answer.
The middle brother, eyes burning with rage, shouted back:
"Hey! Twin Blades! Why are you skulking around in the shadows like rats? You owe us for what you've done to our brothers! Come out! Or we're coming in!"
Number One and Number Two, the remaining middle brothers, were furious beyond reason. The deaths of their younger brothers lit a fire in their chests. They began to move toward the house, clearly preparing to storm it.
"Cowards with no spine," one muttered.
But Gu Wei blocked them swiftly.
"Hold up, brothers. Wait."
He narrowed his eyes.
"There's someone else in there besides Twin Blades. Be careful."
He then called again into the house:
"Twin Blades! If you still want to do business with us, come out now. If not, we'll consider our partnership finished. We'll cancel all deals."
Silence followed for a breath.
Then a grunt, low and cold, emerged from the shadows.
Two dark figures burst out from the house, gliding soundlessly into the night.
Whoosh… Whoosh…
Both wore black garb, faces obscured by tight-fitting masks only their eyes exposed. Each held a single long blade, glinting under the moonlight.
They moved with such speed, such ghostlike grace, that in the blink of an eye, they were standing five steps in front of Ko Wei and the two remaining brothers.
The wind that had been howling moments ago suddenly stilled.
The night went quiet.
No one moved.
All eyes locked on the two dark figures, Twin Blades, standing tall, blades in hand, silent as death.
They didn't lower their weapons.
They didn't speak.
They merely stood there, statues of steel and shadow, five steps away waiting for what would come next.
Number One glared at the two black-clad assassins, his fury boiling over.
"What the hell did you two do?! Fourth Brother's crippled, Third Brother's dead and all because of your reckless actions! I don't care if we're on the same side or not. You're going to answer for this!"
But the two figures, known as Twin Blades, didn't so much as flinch.
It was as if they hadn't heard a word. Their silence was cutting. One of them finally spoke. His voice cold and disdainful, like a blade dragged across stone.
"Blades… have no eyes."
He then turned to Gu Wei and said flatly:
"Gu Wei, our deal was simple: you tell us what needs to be done. You didn't say what not to do. If we take a job, we finish it. If we don't finish it, we don't take a single coin. That's how we work."
Number One's face twisted. That casual arrogance… that utter dismissal… it was more than he could bear.
"Gu Wei!" he barked. "I can't take this anymore. These masked bastards think they're untouchable. Third Brother is dead! Fourth's crippled! We can't just let this go! Don't stop us!"
Gu Wei understood. The time for words was over.
He said nothing more. Just stood there, hands clenched at his sides.
Number One launched himself forward with a roar, body coiled like a spring. His fists moved in a savage, bone-breaking rhythm. Number Two wasn't far behind, charging with an explosive burst of energy.
"YAAH!" "GRRAHH!"
The silent tension shattered like glass.
The wind that had gone still began to howl once more—rising into a frenzy that mirrored the chaos now unfolding.
The two middle brothers unleashed their infamous Tiger Subdual Combat Style—an aggressive, close-range martial art renowned for its brutal joint locks, dislocations, and relentless pressure.
The Twin Blades, however, were infamous not for brute strength, but for lethality.
Their fame came not from flashy moves or public duels, but from precision, speed, and execution.
They weren't just swordsmen. They were killers.
Mother and son—both deadly. Both blades for hire. And both masters of assassination techniques designed to end fights before they began.
Yet even so, they didn't underestimate their opponents. In the world of assassins, complacency was death.
The Tiger Brothers' approach was savage—pinning, locking, slamming, clawing. Their footwork closed the distance, looking to snap joints, crush bones, and twist spines.
"YAAH!" "RRAHH!"
But the Twin Blades moved faster.
Their bodies flickered like shadows in moonlight, slipping through every grab and sweep. They didn't counter yet. Just avoided. But they didn't look arrogant—they looked calculating.
To underestimate the Tiger Brothers would've been foolish. Their style wasn't elegant. It was violent, unforgiving, and merciless.
If you couldn't finish them in one strike, they would grab you, drag you down, and tear you apart.
Number Two crouched low, pouncing forward like a crocodile, targeting his enemy's lower body.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
He locked. Twisted. Pulled.
But the assassin danced away, shifting weight, twirling footwork to evade every hold.
Then came a voice—soft and deadly:
"If you're so eager to die… let me help."
With a flick of the wrist, the assassin reversed his grip—both blades spinning in his palms.
Then, with a lunge like a flying swallow, he vaulted over Number Two—twin blades flashing downward toward his exposed back.
Shhhk! Whoosh!
But Number Two wasn't without instinct.
Sensing the strike, he twisted midair, contorting his body into a writhing escape maneuver. He flipped, reversed his stance, and lunged at the attacker's wrists.
Hyah!
His hands lashed out—ready to grab.
But the assassin was faster.
Clack!
Before the grip could land, the black-clad killer kicked forward midair, then spun, using the momentum to slice downward with his knees, drawing both blades inward.
Shing!
A sharp sound cracked the air.
Then—snap!
Both of Number Two's wrists split open. Twin streams of blood sprayed into the night wind.
"AAAAH!"
He stumbled back, staring at the mangled stumps where his forearms had once ended. Blood geysered like a fountain. His scream ripped through the silence.
He barely finished screaming before the assassin struck again.
Still midair from the vault, the killer hurled both blades—one after the other.
Shhk! Thuck!
Both blades punched into Number Two's chest—left and right—slamming him to the ground like a nailed plank.
He gasped.
Then silence.
Every strike was merciless. Every move was an execution.
The Twin Blades were not here to fight.
They were here to kill.
"Brother… my brother…"
Number One let out a guttural roar, voice hoarse with grief.
His eyes burned with uncontained rage as he charged forward, hurling himself at the assassin like a man possessed.
"YAAARGHH!"
"Try dying for once!" he bellowed, each word laced with fury and vengeance.
His fists, once disciplined, now struck like a wild beast's. There was no strategy left. No restraint. Only the raw, burning desire to kill.
The night wind howled. Blood still dripped from broken wrists. Twin blades glinted in the moonlight.
And the storm within the brother's heart erupted—too late, too deep.
End of Chapter