Wu Xuantian was about to curse when a strange smell suddenly reached his nose.
He looked up. A thin bamboo tube had been slipped silently through the nearby window. White smoke curled from its tip, carrying that odd scent.
Wu Xuantian was staying on the second floor of the Guihai Inn, above a narrow alley.
In the dim alley stood a giant of a man, nearly six-foot-three, with one arm raised high.
A black-clad figure crouched quietly on his broad palm, holding a thin bamboo tube against the second-floor window.
A middle-aged man stood beside the giant. Looking anxious, he called softly to the figure in black, "Is it ready?"
The figure at the window turned. His face was covered with black cloth, hiding his identity.
He nodded to show that everything was ready.
Only then did the middle-aged man relax and pull a black cloth over his own face.
The three listened carefully for movement inside. Then they pried open the wooden window and slipped into the room.
The middle-aged man had barely climbed in when the figure in black crept toward the table. To their surprise, the oil lamp on it suddenly lit up.
In its dim glow, a sleepy little boy sat at the table, propping his head on one hand as he watched them.
The three stared in shock. Before they could speak, the boy raised a hand, and the long sword by the bed came whistling through the air.
The middle-aged man knew things had gone wrong. He flipped back out the window, but the other two were less fortunate. Heaven-Slaying swept across their path, forcing them to retreat.
The two stepped forward and dropped to their knees before Wu Xuantian with a thud.
Wu Xuantian was momentarily speechless. Before he could say anything,