The quiet night was filled with the chirping of insects and the gentle murmur of flowing water.
The night wind rolled along, stirring up a rustling mess of scattered debris.
In the streets and alleys, a group of more than ten masked men, each holding a finely forged steel blade, silently arrived at the rear courtyard of Yang Sanshui's gambling den.
They moved without pause, coordinating seamlessly. Two men braced themselves against the wall and overlapped their hands. Another took a few running steps, planted his foot on their hands, and was hoisted over the high courtyard wall, landing inside. Yet he moved so lightly that he made barely any sound upon landing.
After waiting a short while, the man inside slowly shifted the door bar aside and carefully opened the main gate. The whole process took quite some time, for fear of making any noise and disturbing those sleeping within.
Once the gate was open, the dozen or so men filed inside and headed straight for the main room. They gently opened the door and stepped in.
There was only a crescent moon that night, so it was very dark. Outside, they could still vaguely make things out, but once they opened the door, they entered an even deeper darkness. Several masked swordsmen made their way vaguely toward the bed...
They did not notice the pair of bright black eyes in the corner behind them.
Wang Yan was bare-chested and wearing only shorts, with Hanfeng at his side. He slowly drew his blade, rose to his feet, and headed toward the masked swordsmen.
As they used the tips of their blades to lift the blankets, he kicked one man, crippling him, then swung his saber down in a single chop.
"Ah! My hand! My hand!"
A swordsman let out