Mishasa leans against the alley wall, blood dripping from her hand gripping the dagger onto the rain-soaked ground.

  Around her lie four or five men dressed in bck, while two others stand watch, bdes ready, eyes fixed warily on her.

  The two assassins regret underestimating this woman.

  She looks like a noble dy, yet wields impressive combat skills.

  Though not a knight, her fierce bde technique and nimble footwork have already taken down several of their comrades.

  Still, Mishasa isn’t a warrior by trade.

  Despite her skill, her injuries are severe.

  Both assassins know she’s on her st legs, but neither dares to attack recklessly.

  They’re certain this fierce woman can still kill one of them down.

  Killing her doesn’t guarantee survival for either of them.

  They wait.

  Waiting for Mishasa’s blood to drain further, hoping she colpses, powerless.

  Mishasa understands their pn but feels helpless.

  Her signal fre is soaked by blood and rain, there’s no guarantee she can fire it to call for help.

  Part of her even wonders if dying here would spare her from the burdens weighing on her mind.

  After a tense pause, the assassins decide the moment has come.

  They see Mishasa struggling to stand, her body sliding down the wall.

  Now’s the time.

  They lunge from both sides.

  Before Mishasa can raise her dagger to defend, two dull thuds ring out.

  She recognizes the sound—arrows piercing flesh.

  She’s killed many with crossbow bolts before—family elders, greedy outsiders drawn by her wealth and beauty.

  Blood loss drags her eyelids down; the drizzling rain blurs her vision.

  She vaguely sees the two attackers colpse, motionless.

  Wiping rain from her face, she pulls at the wound on her arm to stay alert.

  Focusing clearly, she confirms the two assassins are dead, each with a foot-long arrow lodged in their necks.

  Blood stains the rainwater on the ground a deep crimson.

  Mishasa recognizes the weapons—crossbow bolts, not arrows from a bow.

  At that moment, several figures step into the alley.

  They wear no cloaks or masks, nothing to hide their faces.

  The leader is someone Mishasa recognizes: Wopeko, a high-ranking member of the Shipping Alliance.

  He had a good retionship with her father and had been helping her ever since her father passed.

  When the fleet ran into trouble, only he was willing to lend a few thousand gold coins.

  Wopeko looks at Mishasa anxiously and says, “Good thing I arrived in time. Mishasa, are you alright?”

  Mishasa forces a smile. “Uncle Wopeko, I’m fine. Thank you for saving my life.”

  Wopeko sighs and supports her as she leans on him. “I told you, you shouldn’t have gotten involved in this mess. Ten years, and not only have you failed to save White Scarf Fleet, you’ve wasted your youth. What about your family?”

  Mishasa ughs bitterly. “Uncle, that was my father’s mission for me. White Scarf Fleet was his life’s work. I have to protect it.”

  Wopeko shakes his head helplessly. “Come on, I’ll figure something out. After this, you should step down from the fleet, take some shares, and take good care of your siblings. You’re not getting any younger—it’s time to settle down. I’ll find some good young men for you so you can live a peaceful life. Today they send assassins to White Scarf Fleet. Tomorrow, who knows? They might threaten your siblings to force you into submission.”

  As Wopeko advises her, he helps Mishasa walk out of the alley.

  But just then, a tall figure blocks the alley’s entrance.

  Seeing this, Wopeko frowns. “Haven’t you caused enough trouble? Must you make a scene? She’s just one woman. Do you really have to push her this far? You want White Scarf Fleet? Take it! But the price will never be what you initially offered! I may not have much power, but I have connections. Don’t force me to bring outsiders into this, then none of us will be happy!”

  The newcomer ignores Wopeko and looks at Mishasa. “Lady, how did you like that ‘Radiant Sun’ drink earlier?”

  Mishasa stares in surprise at Henwell. “You?! Who do you represent?”

  Henwell shrugs. “Myself.”

  Wopeko’s voice turns cold. “I don’t care who’s behind you. This ends here today. Step aside immediately, or I won’t hold back!”

  Henwell lifts his cloak, revealing a head of bck hair. He pulls back the cloak’s hem to expose the hilt of a sword. “If you want to hold me accountable, let’s see how that goes.”

  A murderous gleam fshes in Wopeko’s eyes. “Kill him!”

  At the command, several guards draw their longswords and charge.

  Just a few steps from Henwell, he unsheathes his sword.

  Thunder crashes, lightning sshes across the night sky, and a fsh of steel lights up the alley.

  Then, several heads fly through the air.

  Henwell twirls his sword with ease and beckons Wopeko. “Come on! Keep going!”

  Only two guards remain by Wopeko’s side. One grips his sword nervously, shouting, “Master, run! I’ll hold him off!”

  The other says nothing, leaping up to grab the wall’s edge, ready to flee.

  Henwell lightly kicks a sword lying on the ground. It slices through the rain with a piercing whistle, pinning the fleeing guard to the wall.

  With a flick of his sword, Henwell deflects the other guard’s thrust.

  Then, with a gentle jab from the Sword of Retribution, he pierces the guard’s heart.

  Looking down at the kneeling guard, Henwell says, “I admire loyalty and bravery.”

  Drawing his sword from the body, Henwell strides toward Wopeko and Mishasa.

  Wopeko’s heart races. He knows the strength of his two bodyguards well.

  One was raised from childhood under his care; the other was recruited at great expense.

  Both are knights, decisive in any conflict.

  Yet before this man, neither nded a single blow, and one didn’t even get a chance to escape.

  Wopeko realizes this unexpected man wields power far beyond a knight’s rank.

  Still, Wopeko has traveled far and built a vast empire, he’s seen much.

  Forcing a smile, he respectfully addresses Henwell as he approaches. “I don’t know what orders you have, but I will do my utmost…”

  Before he finishes, his body stiffens.

  He stares in disbelief at the bde piercing his chest.

  He tries to turn his head, but as his life drains away, his strength fades.

  He colpses onto the rain- and blood-soaked ground…