The tavern was loud.
Wooden cups slammed against tables, laughter mixed with drunken curses, and the smell of cheap wine hung thick in the air. Travelers, merchants, and mercenaries filled the space, all seeking a brief escape from the chaos outside the city walls.
Ming and Wrath sat near the corner, quietly eating.
They didn't speak.
They didn't need to.
To anyone watching, they looked like an ordinary pair of martial artists—calm, composed, unremarkable. But beneath the still surface, danger lingered like a blade resting against skin.
A man suddenly approached their table.
He was middle-aged, with worn clothes and eyes that carried exhaustion rather than greed. He leaned closer, lowering his voice.
"Gentlemen… I don't know who you are," he whispered urgently, "but now that you've killed a Black Serpent Sect member, they won't let this go. You should leave. Now."
Ming lifted his eyes slightly.
His gaze was calm. Too calm.
"You don't need to worry about us," Ming replied. "We can handle our own problems."
The man swallowed hard.
"You don't understand," he whispered, voice trembling. "They're part of the Murim Alliance. This city belongs to them. If you stay—"
Ming looked at him again.
This time, he noticed something strange.
There was fear, yes—but not fear for himself.
It was fear for others.
For the people in the tavern.
For the city.
Ming had lived long enough to know how rare that was.
Before he could respond—
BANG!
The tavern doors exploded inward.
Wood cracked. Splinters flew.
A group of men stormed inside, their footsteps heavy, their presence suffocating. At their head stood a tall man with sharp eyes and a cruel expression.
Sao.
The temperature inside the tavern seemed to drop.
Conversations died instantly.
Sao's gaze swept across the room slowly, deliberately—like a predator searching for prey.
Then he spoke.
"Who killed our sect member?"
No one answered.
Fear pressed down on the room like a weight.
Then—
A man stepped forward.
He pointed.
"It was them," he said quickly, excitement flashing in his eyes. "They did it."
He turned toward Sao, forcing a smile.
"If I helped you… maybe you'll remember me."
Sao followed the direction of his finger.
His eyes locked onto Ming and Wrath.
A slow, vicious smile spread across his face.
"So it was you."
He began walking toward their table.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Each footstep felt like a hammer striking the floor.
Ming and Wrath continued eating.
They didn't look up.
They didn't react.
Sao's smile twitched.
Veins bulged on his forehead.
To be ignored—
By two nobodies—
In his city—
It was unforgivable.
He kicked the table.
CRASH!
Bowls shattered. Chopsticks flew.
Sao unsheathed his sword in one smooth motion, steel ringing sharply.
His men followed instantly, blades drawn, surrounding the table.
"If you've eaten your fill," Sao sneered, "then it's time to die."
Ming and Wrath stood.
Slowly.
Their eyes finally met Sao's.
Cold.
Empty.
Unimpressed.
Before Sao could take another step—
Someone moved.
The same man who had warned Ming earlier stepped forward.
He placed himself between Ming and Sao.
His back was straight.
His grip on his sword was steady.
"Today," he said quietly, "is the day I take my revenge."
The tavern went silent.
Sao froze.
Then his lips curled upward.
"Well, well…" he said softly. "An old acquaintance."
His eyes sharpened.
"Did you forget how my master killed your brother?"
He raised his sword, pointing it directly at the man.
"And now you stand before me?"
"Do you have a death wish… Jinhai?"
Hearing his name, Jinhai laughed.
It was hollow.
Bitter.
"Did you forget," Jinhai replied, "how my brother beat you like a dog?"
His eyes burned.
"How you ran crying to your master for help?"
He stepped forward.
"You're nothing but a coward. Hiding behind your master's shadow. Extorting the weak. Feeding on blood."
Sao's smile vanished.
Rage erupted.
"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!"
He lunged.
CLANG!
Steel collided.
Sparks exploded as their swords met.
Sao attacked furiously, his strikes heavy and relentless, each swing filled with killing intent. He tried to crush Jinhai through sheer force.
Jinhai stepped back half a pace, twisted his wrist—
CLANG! CLANG!
Two strikes deflected cleanly.
His movements were precise. Controlled.
Years of discipline shaped every motion.
The tavern descended into chaos.
People screamed.
Tables overturned.
Chairs shattered.
Sao swung downward with full power—
Jinhai blocked, slid his blade along Sao's sword, and countered with a thrust aimed at his chest.
Sao barely dodged.
The blade sliced across his shoulder.
Blood sprayed.
Sao staggered back, eyes wide.
"You—!"
Jinhai pressed forward.
Each strike carried years of grief, hatred, and regret.
From the side—
Ming watched.
Still.
Silent.
But deep within his eyes, killing intent slowly began to rise.
Sao laughed.
A twisted sound.
"It seems you've grown stronger," he said, wiping blood from his shoulder.
"But that's all."
His eyes turned sharp.
"You're still just swinging your sword like a beast."
He raised his blade.
Qi surged.
Cold and venomous.
The sword began to move.
It bent.
Twisted.
Coiled.
Like a living serpent.
"Serpent Strike."
Sao stepped forward.
The blade lashed out.
Jinhai raised his sword—
But the blade slithered.
It curved around his defense.
Slash!
Blood sprayed.
Slash! Slash!
Three strikes.
Perfect.
Merciless.
Jinhai staggered back.
His chest torn open.
His arm numb.
His legs shaking.
He dropped to one knee, coughing blood.
Sao stood over him, eyes blazing.
"It's time," he whispered, "to send you to your brother."
He stepped in.
The sword shot toward Jinhai's neck.
Jinhai closed his eyes.
I'm sorry, brother.
Then—
CLANG.
A sharp metallic sound echoed through the tavern.
Jinhai's eyes flew open.