Even from so far away, Zeng Mu could still see the black teardrop mole beside the corner of her left eye.
It's her. Hill's sister. We found her. The thought flashed through his mind, and Kanni, beside him, saw the answer in his changing expression.
Swish! In the blink of an eye, Kanni drew the short blade concealed at his waist, sliced open the tent fabric, and charged through the dark slit.
The men inside had not even reacted when he entered. Only when he drove his cold short blade, long warmed by his body, into one man's back did the spray of blood and the man's strangled cry drag them back to the danger before them.
"An-pfft!" One man had just opened his mouth to shout a warning of an enemy attack when his throat was abruptly silenced, leaving him unable to make a sound.
Having slit his throat, Zeng Mu swept his blade backhanded and cut another man's neck. His feet moved swiftly among the sounds of bodies falling, every stroke landing precisely and mercilessly on a Yan State man's throat. At such extreme speed, not a single drop of the blood carried by those brief, swift turns of his blade splashed onto him.
Thud. As the last still-warm corpse fell, all eighteen men in the tent lay dead on the ground. Red gashes widened across their necks, spilling endless streams of vivid blood.
The entire slaughter took only a dozen or so seconds. In that brief span, the two of them dispatched the men with ease and efficiency. With death bearing down on them, not a second man thought to shout a warning. They could only try instinctively to dodge, yet none could escape those two cold flashes of steel as long-suppressed killing intent erupted.
"Go to