Back on the night before Wu Zhao began her journey to Mount Kun Lun, the prison seemed calm and secure. Guards were stationed at their usual posts, their expressions dulled by the monotony of their duties. The stillness of the night stretched on, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves and the soft murmur of the wind.

One of the guards atop the lookout tower yawned, closing his eyes briefly as he tried to stifle his fatigue. In that fleeting moment, two shadowy figures slipped over the walls and into the prison grounds, their movements silent and precise. The guard, oblivious to the disturbance, resumed his watch, none the wiser to the danger lurking below.

Once inside the prison building, one of the shadowy figures removed her cloak, revealing herself in a pristine servant's outfit. With practiced precision, she produced a tray laden with delicate porcelain wine bottles and cups, the smooth surface gleaming faintly in the dim light. Her calm demeanor betrayed no hint of the tension in the air as she arranged the tray carefully.

“Do we really have to do this?” the other figure muttered, his tone sharp with irritation. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just kill everyone here? This is so tedious.”

“That’s enough, Harun,” Yasmin replied firmly, her gaze cutting to him with quiet authority. “We’re not creating unnecessary chaos. Subtlety is key.”

Harun let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders drooping as he gave in. “Fine… I’ll listen to you,” he grumbled, the frustration in his voice evident. He followed her lead, glaring at the porcelain tray with a mix of annoyance and resignation, suppressing his desire for a quicker, bloodier solution.

“Stay on guard here. I’ll signal when we’re ready,” Yasmin instructed, her voice steady as she adjusted the tray in her hands. Without waiting for a reply, she turned and strode deeper into the building, where the muffled sounds of the prison guards' chatter echoed faintly.

“Yes, yes, okay, my beautiful and wonderful boss,” Harun muttered, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed.

Yasmin clicked her tongue in mild annoyance but didn’t bother replying. Her steps were deliberate as she moved further inside, her focus unshaken despite Harun’s teasing.

“Good evening, fellow guards. I’m a maid serving in the royal kitchen, and I’ve brought you wine,” Yasmin said, her tone sweet and disarming. She carefully balanced a wooden tray laden with porcelain wine bottles and cups, feigning clumsiness as she nudged the door open, adding an air of endearing frailty to her act.

“Ohhh, wine!” The guards’ eyes lit up at the mention of wine, their earlier boredom instantly forgotten.

“I’ve never seen you before,” one of the guards said, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“Ah, sir, I just joined the royal kitchen recently,” Yasmin replied, her voice soft and timid. “Seeing how hard you all work, I thought it would be nice to bring you wine.” She flashed a shy smile, her demeanor perfectly that of a humble, inexperienced maid.

“Well, aren’t you a sweet one? Such a cute girl—do you have a lover?” one of the guards teased, leaning forward with a grin.

“Oh, sir, you surely jest,” Yasmin answered, lowering her gaze bashfully. “I’m just a humble servant girl. How could I ever find a lover?”

Her meekness and charm captivated them, their suspicions melting away as they invited her to sit at their table. Soon, the guards were pouring wine from the porcelain bottles and laughing heartily, utterly disarmed by Yasmin’s act. Behind her innocent smile, her mind stayed sharply focused on her true purpose.

Moments later, the guards began to slump in their chairs, their laughter fading into muffled snores as the spiked wine took effect. Yasmin observed them silently, her sweet facade giving way to a look of cold disdain.

“Tsk, finally, these pigs fell,” she thought, clicking her tongue in irritation.

She rose gracefully from her chair, brushing her hands against her maid uniform with a faint grimace, as if merely being near them had sullied her attire.

Without a word, she moved to extinguish the candles one by one, plunging the room into darkness. The flickering light vanished, leaving the room cloaked in shadows—a silent signal for Harun to make his move.

“My dear servant girl, did you enjoy the company of these men?” Harun whispered mockingly as he entered the darkened room.

Yasmin shot him a sharp glare, her voice low and cutting. “Any more jokes out of your mouth, and your tongue will be gone.”

Harun raised his hands in mock surrender, smirking. “Fine, fine. So, where’s the guy we’re looking for?”

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Yasmin shrugged, her tone impatient. “Don’t know. We’ll have to search cell by cell.”

“As you wish, my—” Harun stopped mid-tease when Yasmin subtly pulled out her dagger, the blade catching a faint glint even in the dim

light. He cleared his throat. “Fine, I’ll behave.”

The darkness posed no challenge for the two hashshashins. Their training made them adept at navigating in shadows, their eyes keenly adapted to pierce through the gloom. With silent, precise movements, they began their search.

After combing through most of the cells, Harun finally came to a stop. A sly grin spread across his face as he peered through the iron bars. "Found you~," he said, his voice dripping with mock cheerfulness. He waved to signal Yasmin.

In the dimly lit cell sat Gilles Serchilles, the former minister of Luo Yang. His once-proud demeanor was now haggard and shadowed with despair. At Harun’s words, he looked up, his expression shifting to a fleeting hope. “Did you two come to free me?”

“Oh, we certainly did,” Harun replied, a sinister undertone lacing his words.

Relief momentarily washed over Gilles’ face. “Thank god! Quick, get me out of this godforsaken place!” he barked, his commanding tone resurfacing.

Yasmin stepped forward, her voice like frost. “We are here to free you... from this world, master's order.”

The room fell silent. Gilles froze, the weight of her words sinking in. After a long pause, he exhaled shakily and let out a bitter chuckle. “Oh... I see. Of course, he would.” His shoulders slumped, resignation overtaking him. He knew better than to resist—struggling would only prolong the inevitable against assassins of their caliber.

Yasmin regarded him with an icy calm. “Since Annie was our dear junior, we’ll grant you a painless, peaceful end.”

From beneath her cloak, she withdrew a cup and a bottle of wine. This time, the wine shimmered faintly under the torchlight, laced with a deadly poison. She poured it meticulously, then extended the cup to Gilles.

He stared at it, his trembling hands reaching out. Taking the cup, he held it before him, his eyes fixed on the dark liquid within. Silence filled the room, save for the faint clink of porcelain as he adjusted his grip.

For a moment, Gilles simply stared, the wine reflecting his demise.

"Before I drink this…" Gilles began, his voice soft but steady, "can you tell me how Annie was when she was in Nizari?"

Harun rolled his eyes. "Are you just buying time, old man? Nobody’s coming to save you."

Yasmin raised a hand, silencing Harun with a sharp gesture. Her gaze remained fixed on Gilles, her tone measured but distant. “She hated every part of the hashashin training,” Yasmin admitted. “But she held onto hope—hope of returning to see you. She often spoke about you, even in front of us. And when she did, she always smiled.”

Gilles’ grip on the cup tightened slightly, his eyes reflecting a flicker of sorrow. “I see…” he murmured, his voice carrying the weight of a realization that seemed to dawn too late. He continued staring into the dark liquid, as though it held the memories of the past he longed to reclaim.

After a lingering silence, he raised the cup to his lips and drank, the poison wine sliding down without resistance. Lowering the cup, he exhaled, calm and resolute, and retreated to sit against the cell’s cold wall. “Thank you… for being there for her. I will go to see her now,” he said quietly, closing his eyes.

Yasmin watched him for a moment longer before turning. “Let’s go,” she said, her voice firm but tinged with finality.

“Sure~,” Harun replied, following after her with a playful yet subdued tone.

The shadows of the two assassins melted into the darkness, leaving the silence of the prison to embrace Gilles in his final moments.

The dawn broke, and the guards began to stir from their slumber, their groggy eyes opening to the soft light streaming through the prison windows. None of them remembered how they had fallen asleep, assuming they had simply nodded off after drinking the wine the previous night. They went about their morning routines, unaware of anything amiss.

The guards walked past Gilles' cell as usual, but today, something caught their attention. The food tray, which had been left outside for days, remained untouched, just as it had been for several days now. Frowning, one of the guards approached the cell, peering inside to check on Gilles.

When they saw him slumped against the wall, motionless and unresponsive, they stepped in, concern growing. They had grown accustomed to his refusal to eat, but today, something felt different.

“He hasn’t eaten for days... but this…” one of the guards muttered, stepping closer.

They checked for signs of life, but there was nothing. No movement, no breath.

“Looks like he starved himself to death,” another guard said softly, confirming their suspicions. Without any sign of struggle or injury, they assumed that Gilles had simply given up, letting himself succumb to starvation in his despair.

They weren’t to know the true cause of his death, nor the dark hands that had dealt the final blow.

A soldier hurried down the ornate hallway, hastily genuflecting outside the door. “General, I bring you news!” he called out.

“Enter,” Xiao Jie commanded, his voice calm, though he remained resting on his bed.

The soldier stepped in, bowing respectfully. “General, Gilles has died.”

Xiao Jie’s eyes widened in shock. “What happened?!” He quickly rose from the bed, his usual composure rattled by the news.

“It appears he starved himself to death, General!” the soldier replied, still kneeling respectfully.

“Gilles… you fool…” Xiao Jie muttered, rubbing his brow in frustration. Though he had despised Gilles, he couldn’t deny the man’s talents and cunning, and, in some twisted way, he had respected him for that.

“Find out who knew about this and make sure they keep his death a secret. Anyone caught spreading this news will be punished,” Xiao Jie commanded, his tone cold and decisive. He couldn’t afford for the citizens to learn of Gilles’ death—it would undoubtedly stir up trouble.

“Yes, General!” the soldier responded, quickly rising to his feet before rushing off to carry out the orders.

As the first soldier exited, another one rushed in, breathless. “General, urgent news!”

“Speak,” Xiao Jie commanded, his voice steady despite the flurry of reports.

“There’s been a sighting of a gigantic beast, as tall as the mountains, to the south!” the soldier exclaimed.

Xiao Jie’s expression darkened. A beast as tall as the mountains? Surely, this must be exaggerated… “Do we know the identity of this beast?”

“Not exactly, General,” the soldier replied, “but the messenger claimed it resembled a bull demon.”

Xiao Jie’s brows furrowed. A bull demon? This could be another ploy, or worse—a sign of something far more dangerous.

“And… this bull demon reportedly has the power to summon meteors!” the soldier added, his voice trembling.

“What?!” Xiao Jie bolted upright, the weight of the information striking him like a blow. If this is true, it’s no ordinary beast. A creature with such destructive power could wreak havoc across the region. We cannot afford to ignore this threat.

“Gather the men immediately! We need to investigate this at once!” Xiao Jie ordered sharply.

“Yes, General!” The soldier saluted before rushing out to carry out the command.

As the room fell silent once more, Xiao Jie paced, his thoughts racing. A beast that summons meteors… If this creature truly exists, it could disrupt the fragile balance of power in Luo Yang. I must act decisively—failure is not an option.