Before Yanwei could speak, a beautiful woman stepped out from another room, her sharp gaze locking onto him. “Who are you?”

Yanwei grinned. “Well, I am your master.”

Then he attacked.

Ten corpse puppets lunged at her subordinates, moving in perfect synchronization. The room erupted into chaos—blades flashed, blood splattered, and bodies collapsed like puppets with their strings cut. The stench of iron thickened in the air, but Yun’s focus remained locked on the man before her.

She was startled—not because she feared him, but because he struck immediately. No threats, no attempts to gauge her strength, just pure, unrelenting aggression.

What kind of lunatic attacks without even testing the waters? But as she dodged, her thoughts sharpened. No, this isn’t recklessness. This is confidence.

She sneered, masking her unease. “Are you that confident?”

Yanwei chuckled. “I sure am.”

Instead of closing the distance, he flicked his wrist. Three Rank 1 daggers shot toward her. Yun’s body reacted before her mind—duck, pivot, shift! She avoided them with ease, but the moment she moved, she caught a glint—another one! A Rank 2 dagger, hidden within the first attack’s shadow, was flying toward her.

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He baited me!

She barely managed to raise her Rank 2 fan to block. The impact sent a jolt through her arm, and the moment steel met steel, a hairline crack spread across her fan’s surface.

Yanwei didn’t press forward recklessly. He didn’t look surprised, irritated, or rushed. No, he was watching—calculating.

He knows I have a trump card.

Her fingers tightened around her weapon. Her gaze flickered to the battlefield—only to find that all of her subordinates were dead.

Damn it.

She didn’t care about them personally. They were mere tools—disposable, insignificant. But their deaths meant that she had lost an important advantage. They were supposed to be my cover, my distractions. Now they’re gone. She was left exposed.

Her hatred deepened.

Not for their loss, but for the position he had forced her into. She wasn’t just fighting for victory—she was fighting to preserve her future.

Because she couldn’t afford to use her trump card yet.

It was a one-time use. A last resort. If I use it now, I’ll be vulnerable in the fights to come. She needed Yanwei to lower his guard, to underestimate her. But the way he fought—precise, cautious, unshaken—made that nearly impossible.

Another dagger.

She dodged, but the poisoned blade still grazed her arm. Pain flared instantly. Her pulse quickened. The scent of blood filled the air—hers, her subordinates’, mingling together in a suffocating cloud of iron.

I’m losing.

She hated this feeling. The slow, creeping loss of control. Yanwei wasn’t just stronger—he was picking her apart, forcing her into a corner where her only choice was to waste her last ace.

Her fingers curled around the talisman hidden in her palm.

If I wait too long, I die.

Yanwei moved again—this time, a dagger thrown in sync with his charge.

Now!

Yun had to make her move.