Chapter 32 – Whispering Steel
The tension inside the Knife Widow's lair was thick enough to cut. Mo Chen didn't flinch as he faced her. His dark coat brushed the red silk curtains, the scent of blood and jasmine clinging to the air.
"You've been selling information," he said flatly.
The Knife Widow smirked. "I sell opportunities, darling. You know how it works down here."
"Selling names to a masked killer doesn't qualify as business. It's war."
A soft click echoed behind her. A dozen hidden blades revealed themselves—tucked into lanterns, vases, even the heel of her slipper.
"You came alone?" she asked.
"I brought my patience," Mo Chen replied. "But it's running thin."
From the shadows, the gloved man stepped forward. "Then let me help end it."
Mo Chen's gaze flicked toward him. "You must be the ghost haunting my girl."
"You mean our girl," the man said coldly. "We share more than you know."
Mo Chen's eyes narrowed. "You're mistaken. You lost her a lifetime ago. I didn't."
The gloved man reached for his hidden blade, but the Knife Widow's voice cut through the air like a dagger.
"Enough."
They both paused.
She stood, her voice suddenly sharp. "This is sacred ground. My house, my rules. You fight here, you die here."
Mo Chen's tone was silk over steel. "Then let me take him outside."
The gloved man laughed. "You'll regret that."
"I don't regret much. Except not killing you sooner."
Their standoff crackled with restrained violence. Then, just as suddenly, the Knife Widow clapped her hands. "Out. Both of you. My clients don't stain my carpets."
---
Outside in the neon-streaked alley, rain began to fall—light at first, then heavy and cold. The two men stood across from each other, breath fogging in the chill.
Mo Chen loosened his coat. "Tell me your name."
The masked man chuckled. "You don't deserve to know it. But she does. And soon… she will."
He threw a dagger—fast and silent. Mo Chen dodged it, drawing his own concealed blade. Metal rang as the two collided under the flickering streetlamp.
Blades whispered promises of death. Sparks flew. One step, one strike at a time, their silent war resumed—this time in the living world.
---
Meanwhile, in her office, Bai Xueqing stared at a file Lin Nuo had just delivered.
It contained a still image from a security feed.
The gloved man, watching her from across the street.
Again.