The spring rain fell thick and heavy.
Night had deepened.
Through the dense rain, Lian Youming moved on the balls of his feet, rising and falling like a crane in flight, his footsteps utterly silent.
He moved fast, his tigerish eyes narrowed as he rapidly scanned everything around him.
The sizable temple was laid out on staggered terraces following the rise and fall of the terrain, but it lay dark and silent, as though not a soul lived there. Suddenly, Lian Youming halted. Curling up like a monkey, he flipped and lunged, and within a few bounds had reached the sutra repository. A faint light burned inside, and the embarrassing sounds of men and women fondling one another drifted out.
They certainly were enjoying themselves.
Lian Youming wore an odd expression. Listening more closely, he realized there were quite a few people inside.
But their stiffly accented Chinese stirred his urge to kill.
Japanese, just as expected!
Just as he was about to act, footsteps sounded through the rain. Immediately, he gathered his breath and sprang upward, climbing straight up a wooden pillar and curling beneath the eaves. A woman approached in a white suit, a katana in her hand and a cold, grim expression on her face. No sooner had she entered the repository than several disheveled women ran out in a panic.
Only after they had gone far away did sharp slaps and scolding ring out.
Smack! Smack! Smack!
"You idiot, all you ever think about is women! Have you forgotten what we came here for? If you can't control that thing in your pants and ruin our plans, I'll cut it off for you."
Hidden above, Lian Youming listened quietly. He did not know whether he was imagining it, but the newcomer seemed rather like the fourth