The Devil in the Pit

Karamanli Family soldiers nearby advanced with Rumh Spears, but Ibrahim's men immediately subdued them.

In the blink of an eye, five against eight—and yet four of the latter fell, while the remaining four were firmly restrained.

Abidi was surprised, but he still didn't let go. He simply stared into the bloodshot, wolf-like eyes before him, feeling a trace of fear.

Abidi thought the other man wouldn't dare kill him, but Ibrahim's hands kept tightening their grip until Abidi's face reddened from lack of air.

"Cough. Master Heshan went to Austria on business. He won't be back until next month!"

Abidi felt the hands around his throat loosen, but before he could be glad, a tremendous force lifted him into the air. The world turned upside down, and then he plummeted.

"Squelch!"

Ibrahim slammed the Karamanli Family's steward straight into the ground. The man's neck twisted at a grotesque angle, and it was clear he wouldn't survive. Before the other Karamanli Family soldiers could even cry out, curved blades slashed their throats.

The musicians and dancers, who had been too terrified to move, shrieked and tried to flee, but the Imamate of the Caucasus's elite gave them no chance.

Soon, the fine wool carpet was soaked with blood. Ibrahim spread out a map.

"Send the signal. Tell our brothers still aboard the ships to prepare to attack. We'll head straight for the palace in the chaos.

"As long as we seize the Karamanli Family's leaders, we can take control of this city. They've grown corrupt and degenerate, and become Europe's lackeys.

"We'll take everything from them! Long live Shamil! Long live the Imamate of the Caucasus!"

"Long live Shamil! Long live the Imamate of the Caucasus!"

Ibrahim had brought only a little over three hundred men this time. In theory, such