"We can't let them look down on the Chandra Clan!"
Hua Tuo abruptly snapped open the Peacock Fan, its ribs cutting a cold arc through the dimness.
Her voice was low, yet sharp as a blade.
It stirred invisible ripples through the enclosed space.
"White Owl, Ink Veil, I'll leave the command to you from here on."
Her gaze swept over the two elite warriors before her.
"We all make it through."
"Yes!"
White Owl and Ink Veil bowed slightly in unison.
Like the others, both had their faces covered with white cloth.
Only their exposed eyes gleamed with the sharpness of hawks in the shadows.
There was no unnecessary talk.
They raised their hands and flashed a series of complex gestures.
The bending of their fingers conveyed the Chandra Clan's unique tactical language.
The ten Chandra warriors around them nodded silently. With slight movements, they naturally split into inner and outer groups.
The five in the outer ring fanned out, while the five in the inner ring closed in to guard Hua Tuo.
Their movements were so synchronized that they seemed like clones of a single person.
White Owl carried his saber over and reached for the heavy carved wooden doors.
[Creaaak—]
The sound of the hinges turning was instantly drowned out.
A stench of rusty metal and cloying sweetness rushed at them.
It was followed by the crisp clash of weapons and the wet sound of liquid splattering.
It was the symphony of torn flesh they knew all too well.
They could already imagine the carnage outside.
The doors opened fully, revealing the sight before them.
On the wall beyond the corridor—
A strange plant resembling a trumpet flower, with large blue-white blooms—
Its green stalk had eyes and a mouth.
It emitted a hazy purple glow that