Late that night, a sudden uproar erupted outside the shelter.
Shouts and footsteps mingled with the piercing whistle of kunai slicing through the air, sharp enough to hurt the ears.
Sai's eyes snapped open. His mind was not fully awake, but his hand had already reached instinctively for the short sword at his waist-a reflex honed through years of missions.
The next second, his gaze swept toward the bed beside him, and his heart sank: it was empty.
He froze for only a second before a familiar, vicious voice rang out outside. It was Shuo. "Motherfuckers, trying to ambush me? I'll fucking cripple you!"
Sai did not dare waste any time. He sprang up and rushed outside.
Bright moonlight spilled over the ruins outside, making everything clearly visible.
Seven or eight people lay sprawled across the ground, all dressed in black with their faces covered and their chakra suppressed to extremely low levels. One glance was enough to tell they specialized in assassination.
Shuo stood among them, barefoot on the rubble, wearing nothing but a thin hospital gown. The bandages around his chest were already soaked through with blood, a glaring red.
Yet he had one man's throat in his grip, holding him off the ground. The man's face had turned purplish red, and all he could do was kick his legs.
"Talk."
Shuo's voice was hoarse, but carried an unquestionable ruthlessness. "Who sent you?"
The man glared at him, gritting his teeth without a word, looking ready to die rather than yield.
Shuo sighed, his tone full of impatience. "What a pain."
He released his grip, and the man hit the ground with a thud. Clutching his throat, he coughed wildly, tears streaming from his eyes.
Once he caught his breath, he looked up at Shuo in disbelief. "You're...