The air in the alley was different—too still, too watchful. Zhang Wei's steps slowed, his shoulders tensing like a street dog catching a predator's scent. Lan Yuheng felt it too. Hidden eyes, too many of them.
He whispered without looking back.
"Zhuang Niao. Xing. Stay alert."
Zhuang Niao's hand drifted casually to the hilt of his twin sabers, his body loose but ready. Xing's fur bristled, ears twitching, eyes narrowing toward the rooftop shadows.
From the corner of the alley, three figures stepped out. They wore half-masks, concealing their lower faces, but the insignia sewn into their shoulder straps gave them away—the Iron Serpent Guild, one of the more notorious mid-tier mercenary guilds in Shanghai. Their specialty: ambushes and poisoning.
"Well, well," one of them sneered, voice muffled. "LAN-YH-01 himself dares to walk into our hunting ground. And here we thought the stories were exaggerated."
Lan Yuheng's gaze was calm, almost disinterested.
"You've mistaken me for someone else."
The leader barked a laugh.
"Save the lies. Our guild master's been itching to cut down your reputation. And what better place than here, where blood can be spilled without questions?"
At his signal, shadows shifted. More masked figures dropped down from rooftops and alleys, surrounding them. At least twenty. The crowd of shoppers gasped, scattering in panic, leaving behind abandoned stalls and crates.
Zhang Wei paled, stumbling back.
"Th-this wasn't part of the deal! I'm just a guide!"
Lan Yuheng didn't even glance at him. His hand rose faintly, signaling.
"Zhuang Niao. Xing. Clear a path."
The first wave came fast—three assassins lunging simultaneously, curved daggers coated with greenish poison glinting.
Zhuang Niao moved like a flash. His sabers hissed from their scabbards, crossing in a vicious arc. Sparks flew as steel met steel, his strike shattering two daggers instantly. The third assassin lunged low, aiming for Yuheng's legs, but Xing was already there.
With a savage snarl, the husky's form blurred—his body rippling as his spiritual energy surged. In a heartbeat, the small husky expanded into his battle form, a massive wolf-like beast with fur like steel needles and claws that glowed faintly. His jaws snapped shut around the assassin's arm with a sickening crunch.
Blood sprayed, the man's scream cutting the market noise. Xing shook violently, flinging the body aside like a rag doll.
The crowd shrieked, scattering fully now. Merchants abandoned their stalls. Trinkets and treasures tumbled across the cobblestones, some crushed under fleeing boots.
Despite the chaos, Lan Yuheng remained almost still. His right hand brushed the Wolfshade Mask he'd bought earlier. He slid it on, and suddenly his aura shifted—no longer human, but predatory, lupine.
The Iron Serpent members faltered. A ripple of unease passed through them. The mask was doing more than disguising—it was amplifying Xing's presence, making them believe they were surrounded by a pack.
"Fear," Yuheng said softly, his voice carrying unnaturally in the alley. "It's the first step toward defeat."
Ten attackers surged at once, trying to overwhelm. Smoke bombs hissed, filling the air with a choking haze. From within, darts whistled—poison-tipped, aimed with deadly precision.
Zhuang Niao spun, his sabers whirling in a storm. Each dart that came close was cut from the air, sparks streaking through the fog. He dove forward, cutting down two silhouettes in a single spinning slash, their poisoned blades clattering uselessly to the ground.
But a heavier thud followed—the sound of chains whipping. A tall figure emerged from the smoke, wielding twin iron serpent-chains tipped with hooks. His presence radiated authority—clearly a squad leader.
The hooks lashed out, wrapping toward Zhuang Niao's arms and Xing's throat simultaneously.
Lan Yuheng moved. He raised his hand, flicking a coin-sized talisman he'd palmed earlier from the Silent Shop. Energy pulsed, and suddenly the chain's trajectory slowed—as though submerged in water. The jade pendant's calming aura wasn't just for the spirit. It distorted aggression itself.
That heartbeat of hesitation was all Xing needed. He lunged, jaws snapping down on the chain, tearing it free with brute force. Zhuang Niao twisted, sabers flashing in a crisscross slash that severed the other chain clean through.
The squad leader staggered, eyes widening in shock. Zhuang Niao didn't let him recover—his knee drove into the man's gut, followed by a ruthless slash across the chest.
By now, the Awakeners' Market had descended into utter chaos. Civilians screamed and ran, some cursing the Iron Serpent guild. Merchants wailed at their destroyed goods, while opportunists darted in to snatch fallen treasures amid the confusion.
Above, onlookers gathered at windows and rooftops, whispering. Word spread like wildfire—LAN-YH-01 was fighting the Iron Serpent Guild in the middle of the market.
More guild spies took note, scribbling reports, their eyes gleaming. Every guild in Shanghai would hear of this before sundown.
Despite their numbers, the Iron Serpent assassins were faltering. Zhuang Niao's precision, Xing's ferocity, and Yuheng's uncanny control over the battlefield had turned the ambush into a slaughter.
One by one, masked figures fell—cut down, mauled, or disarmed. Blood stained the cobblestones, mixing with spilled herbs and broken trinkets.
The last three survivors hesitated, their formation broken. Fear crackled between them.
Lan Yuheng finally stepped forward. The Wolfshade Mask's aura shimmered, his shadow elongating unnaturally.
"Leave," he said quietly. "Tell your guild master what happened here. Next time, I won't show mercy."
The assassins looked at one another—then bolted, vanishing into the maze of alleys.
The silence that followed was heavy. Smoke drifted lazily. Zhuang Niao exhaled, cleaning his sabers with a strip of cloth. Xing shook blood from his muzzle, returning to his husky form with a shimmer of energy, panting softly.
Zhang Wei, the guide, was trembling where he crouched behind a barrel.
"I-I've never… I've never seen anything like that. The Iron Serpent, defeated in broad daylight…"
Lan Yuheng removed the mask, slipping it back into his sleeve. His face was calm, but his eyes were sharper than ever.
"This was just the beginning. From now on, more guilds will come. We need to prepare."
Zhuang Niao nodded grimly.
"Yes, young master. But at least now the market knows—Scarletwing doesn't bend."
Xing barked once in agreement, tail wagging despite the blood still drying on his fur.
The smoke of the Awakeners' Market battle had barely cleared before the city of Shanghai began to tremble with whispers. News spread faster than wildfire, carried by witnesses, guild spies, and the Federation's own intelligence officers. By nightfall, the entire Awakeners' district buzzed with only one name—
Scarletwing.
That unknown guild with only three members—Lan Yuheng, Zhuang Niao, and the mysterious husky, Xing—had turned the marketplace into a graveyard of their enemies.
Inside the gilded chamber of the Azure Blade Guild, one of Shanghai's dominant forces, the Guildmaster slammed his hand on the table.
"Over a hundred armed elites dead in the span of minutes! In the middle of the market! And they call themselves only three people?" His eyes were sharp, but beneath his anger was unease.
His vice-master leaned forward. "It wasn't just brute strength. Witnesses claim their leader cut down armored awakeners with a single strike… and that wolf tore through squads like a beast king. If that's true… Azure Blade must rethink its plans."
Across the city, the Blackthorn Syndicate, infamous for assassinations, received its report in a candlelit den. Their matriarch, draped in dark silks, toyed with a poisoned dagger.
"Scarletwing… dangerous and unpredictable. But every beast can be bled if you know where to cut. We'll find their weakness. Until then, let the other guilds test them."
The syndicate's agents bowed, already plotting shadows within shadows.
Meanwhile, in the merchant-lords' guild Golden Serpent, panic was more financial than martial. Their treasurer raged:
"They destroyed half the stalls! Our trade took a direct hit because of that chaos!"
But their Guildmaster only smiled coldly. "Scarletwing… they'll either be a menace or an opportunity. If they're this capable, imagine what profit we could turn by funding—or controlling—them."
Federation Headquarters, Shanghai Branch,
In the marble halls of the Federation branch, Commander Zhu delivered his written report to the Head. The silence that followed was suffocating.
The branch head leaned back in her seat, fingers steepled. "Scarletwing completes over 1,400 missions in one week, delivers resources worth over fourteen million credits, and now massacres a rival guild unit in the Awakeners' Market…"
Her voice was calm, but his eyes betrayed a glint of unease.
"They are no ordinary team. I asked Yuheng about his true identity. He evaded me. Now, the question remains… is Scarletwing a threat to Federation stability, or an asset we cannot afford to lose?"
The room stayed silent until Commander Zhu finally said, "Madam, I believe they will not be controlled so easily."
The branch head's jaw tightened. "Then contingency plans must be made. Monitor their movements. If they continue this path, the balance of power in Shanghai will shift. Neither the Federation, nor the guilds, will allow them to grow unchecked."
The common awakeners whispered in taverns and barracks alike.
"They say one man of Scarletwing slaughtered an entire platoon…"
"No, it was the dog. That husky's a monster in disguise!"
"Forget the details—what matters is, if Scarletwing walks into your guild hall, you're as good as dead."
Fear was good for business. And yet, in that fear grew another thing—a legend.
Some saw Scarletwing not as a threat, but as hope—rogues who had defied the suffocating grip of old guilds and the Federation's leash.
Plots Brewing
By midnight, secret councils gathered.
The Azure Blade Guild drafted assassination squads.
The Blackthorn Syndicate began tracing Scarletwing's movements.
Golden Serpent opened their coffers to buy information.
Even within the Federation, whispers of "containment" or "recruitment by force" began.
Shanghai had not seen such disruption in decades. And at the center of it stood three figures, walking in silence after leaving the blood-stained market, oblivious—or perhaps entirely aware—that every power in the city now had their names carved into watchlists.
The storm had begun.