Leaving behind the rugged Mongolian steppes on the way to travel far south to Han Zhong, Han Yin and her followers approached the heartland of the Black Dragon Sect—one of the Four Pillars of the Central Plains martial arts.

"Master, Master! I bring news—the president's slut just left the front lines and is on her way back to Beijing."

"Excellent. Contact the Tong Shan Sect, ambush her on the road tonight and rid us of that vixen once and for all."

As the rain began to pour heavily, a convoy of cars sped through the dark roads, guarding the vehicle carrying Han Yin at the center.

"How much longer until we reach the National Assembly?"

"Commander, we should arrive at City Hall within fifteen minutes."

"Please speed up," Han Yin replied.

She had barely finished speaking when an explosion echoed through the air, its shockwave rocking the convoy.

"KILL THE TRAITORS! SAVE OUR COUNTRY!" voices shouted from the darkness.

The bodyguards surrounding Han Yin were swiftly overpowered by the Black Dragon and Tong Shan Sect assassins, leaving her the last one standing. A dozen swords were now pointed at her, gleaming menacingly in the dim light.

"Got any last words, witch?" one of them sneered.

“I just want to say that, you’re all surrounded”.

Han Yin laughed, her voice echoing eerily in the still night, sending chills through the attackers. For a few moments, though they knew she was alone and beyond the reach of any reinforcements, the men were still hesitant, shaken by her confidence, but then rushed forward with their blades. Yet, in the next moment, she had vanished, only leaving behind the blurry scarlet mirage of her attire.

"By me".

“What the—”.

Before he could finish, his head fell from his shoulders, blood pooling as he collapsed. Every second, another fell. The only sounds filling the night were the screams of the disciples and Han Yin’s chilling laughter. By the time dawn broke, over 200 Black Dragon and Tong Shan disciples lay lifeless on the streets with heads perfectly detached from their bodies.

"What a shame," Han Yin sighed, glancing at her blood-stained hands with a smirk. "So young, so many wishes unfulfilled. Well, at least to die by the hands of someone as lovely as me, I call that a life with no regrets."

She brought a blood-covered hand to her lips, licking it clean. "Pathetic, still" she muttered. Then, looking at her watch, her expression turned to mild frustration. "Oh no, I’m late!"

With a flash, Han Yin used her high leveled light-foot technique and dashed to her mansion in the capital Beijing. She washed away the night’s blood, letting her long white hair fall in loose waves as she prepared herself with a touch of makeup and an elegant outfit.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"Those bums," she grumbled, "How dare they ruin my makeup?! At least I keep a backup here, a girl like me can’t be caught looking anything less than perfect."

Once ready, she sped through the rooftops of the capital, finally arriving at the Presidential Residence.

"Commander Han Yin, the president demands to know the reason why you’re late, " the guard inquired.

"Traffic," she replied coolly. "Is the President in his office?"

"Yes, he’s been expecting you."

Han Yin entered the office to find the President lounging in his chair, thumbing through an adult magazine. Upon noticing her arrival, he quickly set it aside and fixed his gaze on her with a scrutinizing look.

"What took you so long? Do you know how exhausting it is waiting for you?"

The President was a man well into his seventies, his skin wrinkled, and his belly protruding as he leaned back comfortably in his chair.

"Sorry, dear. I was held up by a little business with some hooligans along the way."

Han Yin, who rarely lowered herself to anyone, transformed into a picture of docility in front of this man, her tone sweet and yielding despite in contrast to his demanding tone.

"Those scoundrels dared to touch my beauty?" he scoffed. "I’ll have their entire family executed."

"Oh, don’t worry about it," she purred, moving closer. "I’m standing here unharmed, am I not?"

"Still, I should check to make sure you're really okay," he replied with a lecherous smile, reaching out to touch her. But Han Yin gently intercepted his hand.

"Now, now," she chided softly. "I know it’s been a while, and you must be anxious, but we have more pressing matters to discuss. We can save this for later."

"Only you would understand," he said, laughing, and gestured for her to sit down.

As he pushed his pile of magazines aside, he pulled out a stack of government documents from his drawer.

"Take a look."

Han Yin selected a few recent announcements and started to read carefully:

“On May 6th, widespread political strikes and armed riots erupted across various provinces, including Shanxi, Sichuan, Hubei, and Henan. The primary cause of these uprisings is directly related to government tax policies, underage military drafting, extended military service, and various other grievances. Additionally, local protests have expressed strong opposition against several high-ranking officials, most notably Commander-in-chief Han Yin herself. Local government and law enforcement agencies have deployed armed suppression efforts, though they’ve largely failed due to insufficient manpower. Immediate support is now requested from the military and senior government.”

"As you can see," he said, looking at her intently, "the people are in an uproar over your recent policies. I called you here today to discuss the possibility of retracting some of these measures in hopes of quickly easing tensions."

"With the current state of the country, we cannot afford to reverse any policies," she replied, her tone firm. "The national treasury needs a steady supply of resources to cover weaponry, personnel, facilities, and casualties. Without proper funding and human resources, our country will soon fall into the hands of demons."

"I understand, my dear. I know you’re sacrificing so much for the greater good, for the future of our country. But have you thought about yourself? Do you know what people are calling you out there? ‘The Whore Dictator,’ ‘The President’s Slut,’ and even worse. My dear, I’m a man with practically one foot in the grave, people can call me whatever they want. But you, you’re a young and beautiful woman—why must you bear the brunt of all this? Why let them tarnish your name as if you were some common streetwalker?"

Han Yin went silent, her expression thoughtful. She seemed lost in the past, haunted by memories and the weight of a promise made long ago.