Liu Jing fastened his cloth belt as he went back to his rounds after finishing the deed. It was one of the things he loved about his job, the freedom and opportunity.

No one else seemed to enjoy it as much as him, but as convenient as it was, the other men had to have partaken in it as well.

Jing smirked as he thought of it, the other men had to answer the call of the duty sometimes, as overworked as they are.

“I wonder what would happen if I ever caught caught…” The guard wondered softly to himself as he went back to the path he and the others would patrol.

He shrugged to himself, “...I’m sure getting caught using the bathroom during shifts wouldn’t be that bad.”

Jing waved at Fang, Jing forgot his surname, who was guarding the armory. “’Night, Fang! You might want to look alive, supervisor’s bound to come along within the hour.”

It wasn’t until Jing walked closer to the man that he wasn’t breathing and had an odd purplish color infecting his veins.

Jing was immediate. No hesitation, no thought. It was muscle memory alone that prompted him to take his stance and slip the Nunchacku in his sleeve into his hand.

The years of training of his chosen martial art had him take the legs bent arms out stance that allowed the circulation of qi to help detect, parry, and counter-strike incoming attacks.

The wood of his weapon connected heavily against something he couldn’t even truly perceive. That was the last thing Jing ever felt, and though that was the last thing he ever felt, he heard a ‘thwap’ sound against the wall before all went blank.

What he couldn’t feel, was the melon hammer wielded by the street rat turned incompassionate contract killer replacing the space where his head used to be, and said head giving the wall in front of him a new paint job.

As Yin Shen landed from the mid-air momentum shifting of his movement technique, he gave his hammer a few test swings.

‘Nothing broken, at least.’ Shen’s mood soured from being hit, but he had a small amount of repesct towards the nameless mook he just killed. Most don’t train their senses enough to even see him, let alone react.

He had to unleash his hammer, which he had strapped back on his back already, which took a fair amount of qi for him to wield, unwieldy as it was. Nothing like his prized Dao, which he unlooped as he stepped towards the guard which was slowly making their way towards the scene.

One step took him towards the middle of the path, and a second took him vertical towards the wall as he speed towards his next unsuspecting victim.

In the split second between Jing reaching the guard and Shen passing by him, his shadow qi was able to convey enough intent towards his shadow qi to separate himself from the wall, leading Shen to be above the guard, as well as inverted horizontally.

As he passed, Shen’s daggers caught onto the guards shoulders, painfully yanking the man upwards while converting Shen’ own horizontal momentum into dowards momentum. Shen then, in a moment that was more shadow aspected qi than training than Shen himself would like to admit, completed his movement technique when his feet neared the ground, the sudden grip and added momentum transforming Shen’s body from a dead weight providing pivotal upwards force into a spring providing an elastic force downwards.

Perhaps it was a blessing that the shadow qi’s inherent abilities muffled sound in a small around the user, because the less said about the series of snaps, cracks, tears and pops that came from the cultivator guards upper body, the better.

The lone cultivator continued on in his path of quiet carnage, sheer speed and supernatural silence being enough to prevent the alarm being raised in any was meaningful.

Shen came upon another guard along with two lessers, whether they were trainees, co-operating prisoners, or regular gang members doing business with the organized kidnapping syndicate, Yin Shen didn’t know or care.

He had few objectives.

1. Rescue Cáo Ji, whom he was provided a picture of.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

2. Make an impression, which he was currently providing a decent attempt at doing so.

3. Release the imprisoned if possible, and Shen couldn’t really force himself to care if some of the abductees felt chummy with their captors, he would relese the ones imprisoned.

But before Shen could show his new friends his cool human blender act, the cultivator slipped.

This was a huge shock to the man, even more than the sliding against the floor and slamming into the wall bit of the equation. So great was the shock that Yin Shen felt, that it wasn’t until his eyes were failing to stay open that he thought, ‘Wait… this isn’t… normal…’

And so, three minutes after it began, Shen’s massacre of eight guards and twenty-two assorted criminals was stopped in it’s tracks.

---

‘What the fuck?’ Dan asked simply, immediately after he effectively warped himself over the criminal compound.

Seeing wanton destruction, and having a learned and moral distaste for it, Dan interrupted.

‘This would be a headache if I don’t involve myself…’ He murmured to himself. This was a half-assed excuse, and Dan knew it, but old habits died hard, it was easy enough to force yourself to be ride or die with your ideas when others were around, but hesitancy always reared its ugly head one place or another.

In his old life, saying that you would fight against those in the right if they went too hard on those in the wrong was viewed as naive at best, and delusional at worst.

Even if Dan viewed something as evil incarnate, evil incarnate and still sentient, rather, he would still wish that person or thing would get things like a fair trial, a clean death, and some kind of ceremony. Both because he still held a small amount of compassion for the guilty, if not in the moment, then in concept, but also because he knew that the world being a place where punishment is derived solely by perceived guilt and innocence was a very scary place to live in.

So as he observed the compound as his sleep array conveyed its affect, Dan prepared to go down and aid the kidnappers.

Since ‘corpse carnival’ wasn’t exactly what he’d call the fairest of fates for a bunch of extortionist thugs.

But…

…

Mǎng Fang, the leader of the Serpents Hand, was interrupted by a sense of wrongness that pervaded his own body.

The feeling set him on edge something crazy, until he realized that it was just one of his own snake spirits that bit him. After he realized that, he calmly closed his eyes and started to go back to sleep.

“CUNT OF THE LOVE DEITY!” Fang shot upwards out of his bed, leaving his lovers behind, snoring peacefully. He made a supremely odd sight, a super buff tan asian dude, continuous snake tattoos spanning his entire body, clothed in only his lower robes, bouncing slightly on his bed, like he was expecting an attack from any angle at any time.

Though this mattered none to Fang, for, in his senses, he was being attacked, now that he was using his qi to actively resist it, the air was as oppressive as most enforcers the Chens liked to send. But instead of submitting, Fang had to spend his every waking moment trying to resist falling to sleep.

It was nowhere near as domineering, but Fang felt as if he was slowly losing his mind as he used his qi to fight against what his body protested what was right.

“Damn..ed…” Fang huffed as he tried his best. “Insidious.” Fang slumped. “...trickery.”

Fang jumped up again as another of his snake spirits bit him. He stared wildly back and forth. ‘This… isn’t good, I’m… bleeding qi, not gonna last…”

“Sorry,” A nondescript, yet clearly beautiful voice sounded from behind Fang.

Fang spun on a dime, ignoring even the influence for sleep stopping, but what he saw left him mute.

“that was mean.” The man that Fang couldn’t say was a man was positioned way that the criminal hadn’t ever seen before. He was squatting on top of Fangs headrest, some three chi above Fang, his midsection was at the same level as his knees, his arms were resting on hi knees, and only his feet were touching the ground.

Lastly, but not leastly, the man was radiating casualness.

“Oh, but before I kick your ass. I have to ask.” The man’s appearance stunned Fang. It wasn’t that the man was beautiful, though he was, Fang thought, it was that Fang could clearly see the intruder, but couldn’t perceive him.

“Was the Mǎng surname before or after the snake powers?” Fang knew what he was seeing, but the knowledge wasn’t there.

“Because if it was before, I either admire your luck, or your dedication to the bit.” Fang could only stare as he prepared for the inevitable battle.

“But if it was after, you’re either extremely simple or uninspired,” The figure smirked. “or the kids on the playground were cruel and it stuck.”

Fang was still preparing for the battle ahead when he finally processed what the bastard was saying. Like a swtich, Fang was flipped, and like a bullet, he flew at Dan. Though, Fang had no idea what either of those things were.

“It was the former of those two, I see.” Fang tore his arm out of the brick and mortar that was behind his bed and snarled at his opponent, who was somehow standing with his arms crossed behind his back before the bed now.

“Jest about this, bitch!” As Fang rushed towards Dan yet again, his snake tattoos glowed and produced eight spirit snakes that bit at the demon in disguise as he personally attacked.

All eight snakes landed and injected their mystical poison into Dan as Fang was caught by Dan by the neck, who ignored the snakes entirely.

Fang watched helplessly as the snakes dissolved, their venom and qi having been spent.

“Now…” Was all Fang heard before it all went dark.

‘...if you won’t go to sleep, I’ll make you.’ Dan finished back in knowledge-speak after the criminal head was incapacitated.

Dan dropped the unconscious body back on it’s bed and ran his hand through his hair.

‘What am I supposed to do n-’ Dan paused. ‘Son of a bitch!’

Dan rushed himself over to the now second person who resisted his influence.