The alley fell silent again.
The younger stalker's shoulders tensed, eyes flicking left and right as if judging the distance between himself and the exit. The older one didn't flinch, but his hand shifted ever so slightly closer to the inside of his sleeve.
"You think you can kill the both of us?" the elder asked calmly, though his voice now carried a faint edge. It wasn't quite doubt, but it wasn't confidence either.
"Kill?" Lao Xie replied, tilting his head. "I thought I said silence."
He took another step forward, slow and measured. The air around him remained calm — no sudden burst of qi, no aggressive stance. And yet… both men took an unconscious half-step back.
"What are you planning?" the younger one asked, trying to keep his voice level. It didn't quite work.
Lao Xie gave him a look — the kind of look that didn't hold anger or even annoyance. Just mild disappointment, like a teacher catching a child cheating on a test.
"You took the mission," he said mildly. "So you were prepared for the risk, weren't you?"
The older one narrowed his gaze. "Prepared for what?"
"For this."
The moment the words left his mouth, a sword flashed into existence in Lao Xie's hand — no flourish, no warning.
Clang!
Steel met steel as the older spy's dagger shot up just in time, blocking the strike. Sparks flew, dancing in the dim light of the alley.
"Kid, fall back!" the older spy snapped.
The younger one flinched but obeyed, retreating several steps without hesitation.
Lao Xie didn't press. He just smiled faintly.
"Not bad," he said. "You're quicker than I expected."
His voice was light, almost playful — as if the clash had been a test, and the result mildly interesting at best.
The younger man looked like he was about to say something — maybe a warning, maybe another taunt — but the older one raised a hand to stop him.
"…You're confident," the elder said coolly. "But confidence without proof is just arrogance."
With a sharp breath, he pushed back with his dagger, forcing Lao Xie a half-step away.
Then —
"Don't forget I'm here too!"
The younger spy surged forward from behind, twin daggers flashing in both hands, aimed directly at Lao Xie's back.
Swish!
The younger spy lunged in — both daggers aimed low and fast, one toward Lao Xie's ribs, the other seeking to catch his back with a reverse strike.
But Lao Xie moved like water.
His feet shifted, his body tilting just enough to let the blades slide past. The daggers missed by a hair's breadth — one slicing through his sleeve, the other grazing the hem of his outer robe.
In a single, fluid motion, Lao Xie twisted, his sword already raised.
There! — a small opening in the younger one's stance. His left side exposed, his balance just slightly off from overextending.
Lao Xie didn't hesitate.
He brought the blade down in a clean arc — fast, precise, meant to end the fight before it even began.
But just as the edge was about to reach its mark —
Clang!
The older spy appeared behind him like a shadow, blade meeting blade with a violent impact. The force knocked Lao Xie's swing off course, sparks bursting between their weapons.
"Tch—" Lao Xie's eyes flicked over his shoulder.
The older man didn't give him a second to react. He pressed in immediately, stabbing forward with speed that revealed his experience. His dagger cut through the air, sharp and silent, aimed at Lao Xie's spine.
But Lao Xie was already gone.
His foot pivoted mid-step, body dropping low as he spun out of the way. The dagger sliced nothing but air — and in the same breath, Lao Xie retaliated with a backward sweep of his sword.
The older man blocked again, but this time his foot dragged slightly on the stone tiles. The blow had forced him to shift back.
Lao Xie used the momentum — ducking under the next attack, stepping between both opponents with a sideways roll that took him past the younger spy once more.
"Your timing's not bad," he said lightly, breath steady. "But coordination's still sloppy."
The younger one let out a short breath, frustrated. "You're fast for an outer disciple."
"I'm slow today," Lao Xie replied flatly. "Try harder."
The younger spy lunged again — this time more cautious, aiming to test Lao Xie's reactions. The older one circled around, trying to flank, his eyes cold and calculating.
Lao Xie shifted into a defensive stance — sword raised at an angle, eyes calm.
The alley echoed with the clash of blades, the hiss of qi-charged metal slicing the air, and the sharp grind of boots against stone. Twin streaks of grey robes moved in unison, blades flashing from both sides.
And yet, Lao Xie moved with unhurried precision — never reckless, never desperate. He didn't try to overpower them. He simply outread them.
He ducked just beneath a swipe, countered a thrust with a flick that knocked a dagger out of alignment, twisted away from a double-team strike without even crossing his arms.
They came at him faster.
He slid past another attack, his foot skimming the surface like a shadow. A second later, his blade nicked the older man's sleeve — shallow, but enough to leave a mark.
The two spies regrouped, panting.
Lao Xie stood across from them, completely unruffled.
His robe swayed gently from the motion just now, and not a drop of blood marked him.
"Done warming up?" he asked.
"I'm only an outer disciple though?" he added, voice lazy and light, that usual mocking smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
The older man's jaw tensed.
"…The intel said he was just an outer disciple," he muttered under his breath, disbelief flickering in his eyes. "How the hell is this even possible?"
"This isn't what we were told," the younger spy added, his tone tighter now, no longer playing calm. He took a step back unconsciously, beads of sweat forming near his brow. "Senior, we need to retreat. We abort the mission. This guy's… abnormal."
The older one hesitated — not because he disagreed, but because he could feel it too.
The fight hadn't even escalated, and yet they were already running out of moves.
He glanced at Lao Xie again. The man hadn't unleashed a single technique. No flare of qi. No wild outbursts. And yet… he had completely dominated the flow.
That kind of control was very unnatural.
Moments later, he finally gave a small nod. "We retreat—"
But he coudln't finish his words as Lao Xie was seem to be stepping forward slowly.
The faint air that lingered between them seemed to shift. The shadows under Lao Xie's feet stretched a little longer, darker, as if reacting to something deeper beneath the surface.
"You're retreating?" Lao Xie asked softly, expression unreadable now. "After spying on me?"
The two spies stiffened.
The air grew heavy. Not with killing intent — but something worse.
There was no visible surge of qi, but a pressure emerged from Lao Xie's body nonetheless. Slow. Suffocating. Like something ancient stirring beneath calm waters. It wasn't loud. It wasn't explosive.
But it sank into the skin, wormed into the bones, and pulled at the instincts that told them to run.
The younger man stumbled back a half-step, his throat dry.
The older one's eyes widened slightly — and for the first time, his hand trembled.
"Wait—!" he said quickly, voice tight. "Wait… spare us! I'll tell you!"