Page 52 of The Wind Dancer
As soon as I walked through the door, the smell of blood hit me. The soft light of the paper lanterns reflected off the pools of blood and gore on the floor.
There were three bodies slumped against the wall in the first room. One of them was still holding a dagger. His throat had been cut so deeply that his head was barely attached to his body by a bit of skin. The other two hadn’t even had time to draw their weapons. One lay with a gaping stab wound in his chest, and the other had bled out from a severed artery. Their blood slowly soaked into the wooden floor. The Chancellery agents were more effective and brutal than anyone I had ever seen. With one exception.
My hands repeated my mentor’s signature strike, from below to the chin. The longer I looked at all this, the more I was convinced that my mentor was from the Chancellery. The techniques and style were just far too similar.
A terrified screech snapped me out of my thoughts. I turned my head and saw a young maid standing in the doorway of the room. She wore a light silk robe, which was now coveredwith blood and gore. Her eyes were wide from fear, her hands shaking, and she took a step to the side as if to escape, but bumped into a wall.
One of Mei Lin’s men stepped out of the shadows and swiftly slid toward her. The girl opened her mouth to scream, but he struck her throat. She wheezed and fell to her knees, gasping for air.
I turned to Mei Lin, but she had already nodded to the agent.
His blade silently slid across the girl’s throat.
She clutched at her neck, trying to close the wound, but she was bleeding too quickly. The girl wheezed and choked, her body twitching, then collapsed as her blood joined the rest.
“We don’t leave witnesses,” Mei Lin said softly, her eyes not showing a shred of emotion.
I clenched my fists, but I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t in charge here. The girl was just unlucky. The thought made me feel sick.
There was a thud in the other room — someone was alive.
“Fu Shang is in the back,” one of the agents said, pointing. His voice was muffled coming through the mask. “He’s in the bedroom, with his mistress.”
I pulled out a dagger, feeling my heart beat faster. Mei Lin nodded, and we carried on down a hallway strewn with bodies.
The agents of the Secret Chancellery moved like hunters in the night. Hushed steps, swift commands — it all worked like clockwork.
The next room greeted us with more bodies. One of the guards was still breathing, his fingers desperately clutching his stomach, trying to keep his guts inside. Mei Lin just stepped closer and plunged a thin blade under his jaw. The man jerked, wheezed, but after a moment, he fell silent.
“Continue,” she said swiftly.
We moved toward the master bedroom, thuds, yelps, and blood splatters accompanied us. One of the doors burst open, and a man in expensive robes jumped out, a curved sword in his hand. An agent surged forward, knocked the weapon aside, and snapped his neck in a single precise motion. The body crumpled to the floor.
No witnesses...
“Hurry up,” Mei Lin ordered.
We reached the last door. It was massive, lacquered, and decorated with gold inlay. Fu Shang was just past it. I could hear muffled voices. A woman was giggling. It seemed incredibly strange to me. He must have heard what was going on in the house, and yet there he was still having fun with his mistress. He was an absolute snake.
Mei Lin had already raised her hand, giving the order to storm the room. They kicked the door open, and five agents rushed inside, forming a semicircle and raising their crossbows. I followed and halted.
Fu Shang sat on silk cushions, half-naked, a wine cup in his hand. Curled against him was a woman. Her diaphanous robe had fallen to her waist, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders. She was breathing heavily.
We had walked in just as they stopped.
She turned her head, dazed, and a belated realization flashed in her eyes. Fu Shang didn’t move. He only raised the cup as if about to take a sip, but his cold, dark eyes swept over Mei Lin and me. There was no fear or surprise in them.
“It’s too late,” the woman whispered, terrified. She clutched Fu Shang’s arm. “They’re already here.”
He ignored her. His thin lips stretched into a venomous smile.
“I can smell you, Feng Lao,” he said, and his voice was soft, almost tender. “I did not think you would come. You found allies so quickly? And from the Chancellery no less. Seems Tang Fei decided to play a game with me after all. What a pity, I did not have time to have my dinner.”
I followed his gaze and felt sick. In the far corner of the room lay a bound unconscious girl, no older than twelve.
I gripped the handle of my dagger, feeling a chill go down my spine, and my blood boiled with rage. A gust of wind pushed at my back, as if trying to warn me of danger. There was something deeply wrong here. He shouldn’t have been like this... calm.
Mei Lin took a step forward, her crossbow aimed at Fu Shang’s chest.
