‘Hung, have you ever been to Gweimin Restaurant?’ Tao’ asked, wishing for his partner to return soon. ‘Yutai and I were there before we came here.’
Hung’s eyes sparkled with recognition. ‘In Tsim Tsui? Ah, a delightful memory. I’ve been meaning to return.’
‘Then you will be familiar with the tales it tells from the war. I was sharing some of that history with Yutai.’
A shadow of emotion crossed Hung’s face. ‘Ordinarily, I would chastise you, most non-southerners ever retell Southern history with the intent to belittle and mock. But after getting to know you a little, I sense you are not like that. And for that, you have my respect, Kingmaker.’
Tao blinked, caught off guard by the depth of Hung’s sentiment. He sensed a moment of connection between Hung and himself and pressed on.
‘My family’s patriarchal line traces back to one of Dong’s earliest disciples in Ho Man Ting — an early convert named Kwang Yew,’ Tao began. ‘He was tasked with spreading the word of the Light, so Dong sent him and his family to Central Kowloon to pioneer and preach. A few generations ago, when we proved our direct relationship to Kwang Yew, we were invited to replace the acting clergy, who had a weaker connection to Dong.’
‘Hold on…’ Hung shook his head, a smile creeping onto his face. ‘Your family are the sages of your district? Which one?’
‘Tsin Wai.’
Hung looked astonished, as if a newfound respect for Tao had just dawned. ‘Southern blood courses through you, brother,’ Hung said, almost in awe. ‘Your forefather was a companion of Dong. I…I’m speechless…had I known earlier, I’d have —’
Tao hesitated, debating whether to reveal the next part of his story—the part where he’d rejected inheriting his father’s title as sage to become a Kingmaker instead.
‘Nonsense, Hung. Southern blood may be within me, but we’ve lived amongst Central Kowlooni’s for hundreds of annui-cycles. Because of that, I will always be a guest here. I know what I am — a Kingmaker. And I can’t turn a blind eye to the Yaozhi dynasty’s transgressions, the atrocities they’ve committed against the Southern and Eastern people, especially in the recent war. But we’re trying to do better.’
Hung stared at Tao, disbelief in his eyes. ‘You’re a rare one, Tao. Few outsiders really understand — let alone acknowledge — the Southern plight. Had we been born under different circumstances, maybe we could’ve been friends.’
Tao held his gaze. ‘Who says we still can’t be?’
Hung’s eyes stilled, as if his mind was flooded with a thousand thoughts. Then, with a slight dilation of his pupils, he snapped back to the present. ‘You should call Yutai. It’s been more than ten minutes.’
With a nod, Tao raised his wrist and initiated the call to Yutai.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
After the third, it ceased.
‘What does that mean?’ Hung asked, his voice tense. ‘Did he decline it, or did it just ring out?’
Tao called again.
It rang out. Why would Yutai let it ring out?
It rang three times and went silent again.
‘Tao? Where’s Yutai?’ Hung’s question hung in the air, yet Tao hesitated.
‘I think he’s coming back,’ he replied, though his voice lacked conviction.
Hung’s expression, once focused and driven, morphed into a frown that hinted at deeper concerns than Yutai being merely lost. Then, Hung’s frown morphed into anger.
‘You bloody Kingmakers!’ The words erupted unexpectedly, reverberating against the walls and ceilings. Tao’s nerves jumped at the force of Hung’s sudden outburst, his mind racing to catch up with the abrupt shift in the atmosphere. ‘Just wandering around the fort like you own the place!’
‘I’ll try calling him again, there’s no need to get panicked.’
‘Don’t bother calling him,’ Hung continued as he recomposed himself. ‘Stay here. Let me handle this. I’ll find out where he is.’
Hung’s footsteps faded into the distance as he disappeared around a bend in the corridor. Now in Hung’s absence, the air crackled with uncertainty, as if the very walls held their breath, awaiting the next act.
In this stillness, Tao’s fingers jumped into action, dancing over the holoprojector strapped to his wrist. The device hummed to life, casting a subtle glow on his determined face. Tao sent Yutai three consecutive buzzes, a signal to warn him to return immediately.
Tao attempted to reassure himself, reminding his racing mind that as long as no one caught him installing the wiretaps themselves, a simple 30 second process, he’d be fine.
A Rioter could never do anything to a Kingmaker.
Minutes passed painfully slow, Tao tortuously waited for a return buzz from Yutai. Nothing was coming. The scenarios he was imagining in his head were starting to get worse. Almost ten minutes passed, and the only thoughts that were swirling in his head could no longer get any worse.
Yutai, please come back. Where are you? Light, guide my brother back to me.
Footsteps approached and Tao shot his head to the other end of the hallway, expecting to see Yutai running back.
But it wasn’t Yutai who emerged from the shadows of the corridor. It was Hung storming back, his shoulders swinging with anger.
Tension radiated between them. Hung’s presence bore an air of finality, his words curt but laced with an unspoken weight. ‘Your tour has reached its conclusion. Regrettably, time has betrayed us, and I cannot show you around the dojo.’ He strode past Tao to secure the dorm doors shut.
Tao’s features contorted into a mixture of confusion and frustration. ‘What? Where’s Yutai? Did you find him?’
Hung’s response was measured, void of any concern. ‘The tour has concluded. It’s likely he headed home.’
Tao’s brows knitted together, and his tone grew more incredulous.‘What? Excuse me?’
Hung’s gaze remained steady and unyielding. ‘Please follow me while I escort you to the gates so that you may be on your way.’
A surge of disbelief welled up within Tao. ‘I’m not going anywhere without my partner,’ he said defiantly.
Hung’s patience slipped. ‘As a senior Rioter, I am asking you to follow me outside. You are in our fort and a guest in the South. You have no authority over me whilst here. Please follow me.’
A furrow etched deeper into Tao’s brow. He did have authority over him; even over Warlord Xinjian, Lord of Ho Man Ting, himself.
‘No. I won’t go anywhere until I know my partner is safe,’ Tao’s voice resonated with conviction.
But the Rioter’s response was chillingly direct. A motion, a gesture, that spoke volumes. He shifted his uniform coat aside, his hand settling on the grip of his hand cannon, an RX-15 Sibiv blaster — lethal, merciless, capable of unleashing destruction in an instant. Truly the weapon of a senior Rioter.
Tao’s pulse raced, and his senses heightened. The threat was as clear; a veiled ultimatum that cast a sinister shadow over the encounter. He analysed the situation, calculating the potential outcomes, and weighing them against each other. His gaze remained fixed on the weapon.
Would he dare shoot a King?
His ears hummed with the intensity of the moment, and his breathing felt amplified, each inhale and exhale a conscious act. The instinct to react, to defend himself, bubbled to the surface. His muscles tensed as he held his reflexes back from flipping Hung on his head. The situation felt like it was spiralling. But in the end, Tao pried his eyes off the blaster and looked into Hung’s eyes.
The repercussions of drawing his own weapon in this circumstance would be catastrophic, a sure-fire route to his demise. Survival hinged on a different path, a path that demanded cooperation, albeit unwilling. Violence was not the way out.
‘Lead the way,’ Tao cautiously gestured towards the other end of the hall. ‘I don’t mean to look for trouble.’
Hung let go of his coat, covering his weapon once more, and then walked behind Tao, barely half a meter from his back. ‘Start walking, Kingmaker!’
The two walked forward through the corridor, with Hung walking right behind Tao. Anytime there was an intersection in the hallways, Hung would tell him to go either straight, left or right. Nothing more. If Tao slowed down, Hung placed his palm on Tao’s back to nudge him to walk faster.
What in the name of the Light is happening? Yutai, you fool. What have you gotten us into?
With each step, his concern deepened. His ears throbbed red, like a drumbeat of dread.
As the two made their way through the fort, Tao noticed Rioters hurrying towards the opposite direction.
It was clear — something was amiss. The fort buzzed with a new urgency that was impossible to ignore. Hung’s strides quickened, a clear indication that the situation demanded their immediate attention. Tao followed suit, his senses on high alert as they traversed through the fort’s now familiar passageways towards the entrance.
Eventually, they reached the colossal entrance gate, reminding Tao of the world that still existed outside the impregnable fortress.
He made a final plea, a desperate bid for clarity. ‘Hung, what’s going on? Please, I need to know. Don’t do anything you Rioters will regret,’ he jutted his finger at the tall Rioter.
Hung’s response was swift. His words fell like a heavy curtain, an icy decree that left no room for negotiation. ‘Return to your Tower, Tao. The Kingmakers have no place in Ho Man Ting.’
The gates began to descend, separating Tao from Hung. A sense of isolation enveloped him as the steel barriers closed, their metallic groans a chilling accompaniment to his disquieted thoughts.
Alone now, Tao’s composure began to unravel. Anxiety tightened its grip as he fumbled with his holocommunicator, fingers trembling. He initiated a call to Yutai, a lifeline to hope in the midst of uncertainty. But the line remained ominously silent.
A surge of realisation hit him like a crashing wave — Yutai was in danger. Panic rose within him, the dread of the unknown feeding his unease. He teetered on the edge of desperation, torn between seeking help and plunging into a darkness of his own making; failure to protect his partner during an unauthorised mission.
Need to call Lieutenant Keung…
No. Tribune Cheng will know what to do, Tao decided.
‘Brother? Is everything okay?’ Cheng asked, picking up the call.
****
A gnawing feeling told Cheng that something was terribly wrong. ‘Tao, talk to me!’
Simultaneously, one of the Rioters received a call on their wrist screens. Cheng shot a scathing glare at the Rioter as he answered and walked down the hall. The other Rioter remained, still in a staring match with the rest.
Tao’s voice came through in hurried whispers. ‘Something’s gone very wrong. The Rioter’s have taken Yutai captive—’
‘What?!’
‘— I’m heading back to the Tower.’
‘Tower? Tao, where the hell are you? Where’s Yutai?’
‘I’m at the Fort.’
‘What fort?!’
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The Rioter who stood by shot a sharp glance at Cheng, then over to his comrade, who was still speaking quietly down the hallway.
‘Fort Ho Man Ting! These damned Rioters aren’t who they say they are! I have to get to the King Rail!’
Tao hung up. The Rioter who had stepped away returned and leaned in, whispering something urgent to his comrade. Cheng stood frozen, thoughts spinning.
‘What happened?’ Keung murmured, concern contracting his brows.
‘Yutai was…’ Cheng’s words faltered, his eyes narrowing as they locked onto the Rioters. They stared back, cold and unblinking.
‘Who was that call from?’ Cheng demanded, his voice sharp and quick.
‘Mr Enji. There’s an emergency at the fort. We need to return immediately, but you’re free to continue on your own,’ the Rioter replied coolly.
‘Excuse me?’ Cheng tilted his head and snapped. ‘You’re not going anywhere. We’re in the middle of a Kingmaker operation — you don’t just bail halfway! What’s going on at the fort?’ Suspicion laced his words, a clear shift following the call with Tao.
‘This operation hasn’t even begun, Kingmaker,’ the other Rioter responded, a calmness masking the tension.
Han and Jin slowly flanked the Rioters, closing in, tightening the circle.
‘He asked you a question,’ Jin pressed, his voice low and firm. ‘What’s happening at the fort?’
The Rioters shifted, inching closer to each other, muscles taut. Their only way out was going through the trapped, dark base. Then, suddenly, their wrist screens pinged blue with a new message. All eyes flicked downward:
“Return to Fort Now — Urgent.”
In an instant, the tension exploded into motion. The Rioters struck first — A fist flew towards Jin; his head slipped right, dodging with precision. Han’s retaliation was simultaneous, his punches fast and violent, but the Rioters weaved through, striking back with brutal force.
Cheng dove in, his strikes sharp and relentless, but the Rioters maintained the upper hand. Shields crashed into fists, blocks turned into counters, and the air thickened with the sound of shuffling armour and clothes. They shoved Jin and Han back with a sudden surge of force, then kicked Cheng back, sending him stumbling into Keung against the back wall.
The two Rioters bolted down the apartment hallway, disappearing down a flight of stairs.
‘Tribune Cheng?! What do we do?!’ Han shouted, swiftly springing back to his feet. Jin leaned against the wall, panting but ready.
Cheng’s eyes burned with determination as he pointed down the hall. ‘Bring me those Rioters!’ he ordered at the top of his lungs. ‘They’ve taken Yutai!’
****
The words barely made it to Keung’s mind as Cheng hauled him up. How did they take Yutai? Damn, they move fast in their armour, Keung thought.
Han and Jin had already bolted after the Rioters.
‘Are you alright, sir?’ Cheng helped dust Keung’s trench coat.
‘We can’t let them get away!’ Keung shouted, surging past Cheng, nearly stumbling before catching his stride. The Tribune followed close behind, while the echoes of the Tai Li’s pursuit bounced through the corridors ahead — Keung just had to keep up.
At the hall’s end, a staircase led to the main street, and at the bottom, a poor man lay sprawled, struggling to rise.
They went into the streets! Keung realised.
With no time to help the man, he leapt, launching from the top of the stairs straight to the bottom, landing in front of an open scissor gate with a heavy thud. Beyond it, the chaotic streets of Ho Man Ting roared in full force.
Through the gates, Keung emerged amidst the haze of city life, the chase around him becoming a vivid blur. His gaze flitted across the masses, searching for any sign of a break in the flow of movement. Cheng slid up beside him, their heads whipping back and forth as they scanned the chaos.
And then, to his left, Keung spotted a cluster of disgruntled pedestrians, their angry shouts piercing the dull hum of their surroundings. They pointed fingers with annoyed scowls. ‘There!’ Keung pointed.
‘They’re heading to the fort,’ Cheng snapped. ‘I’ll try to cut them off, but don’t lose them!’ He ran off into the crowd with his holocommunicator map showing a quick route to Fort Ho Man Ting.
Heart pounding, adrenaline surging, Keung dove headlong into the frustrated pedestrians. With every step, he chased the echo of the pursuit, the invisible breadcrumbs of the Tai Li rippling through the crowd.
Narrow streets twisted into a sharp bend where a group of irate construction workers, clad in battered helmets, sweat-stained singlets, and thick cargo trousers, hollered furiously. They were gathered by a demolished wall, shouting across a precarious, half-finished bridge suspended between two colossal groundscrapers.
They crossed that gap!
Keung’s body moved before his mind could catch up, his instincts driving him forward. He weaved through the crowd of angry workers, shoving aside anyone in his path. Reaching the jagged edge of the bridge, he didn’t hesitate—his legs coiled and launched him into the air.
The world slowed down as he floated over a vertiginous drop of sixty-two levels. His boots slammed down on the far side with a bone-shaking impact, rolling through the landing before snapping back into a sprint. His muscles burned, but the wild thrill of the chase gripped him, surging through his veins like fire.
A new scene of chaos unfolded before Keung — food stalls lined the narrow pathways, vibrant colours blending into a whirl of movement, with vendors loudly haggling over the freshest produce of the cycle. But Keung’s focus zeroed in on Jin halfway through the market, just behind Han, vaulting over a table with sizzling shengwu’s. The central walkway was jammed with pedestrians, forcing Keung to also take right side, over stalls piled high with fruits, meats, and vegetables.
The chase was a blur of agile manoeuvres and split-second decisions. Not far behind the chase, Keung shadowed Jin’s movements, running and vaulting over the same table, the southern shengwu’s exotic scent filling his senses.
Ahead, a vendor’s table brimming with wild fungi blocked their path. Jin, nimble as a dusk-cat, sidestepped off the wall and vaulted over the table in one smooth motion. Keung’s split-second thinking chose a different path and he dropped low, sliding under the table instead. His uniform scraped against the rough floor as he narrowly ducked beneath the wooden legs. A sudden jolt of pain hit as his head clipped the underside of the table, but he made sure to hold onto his cap and pushed through, springing back to his feet.
The vendors erupted in shouts, their business interactions momentarily disturbed by the whirlwind of movement. But as the Tai Li and Keung darted past, they glanced back at their tables — everything intact, nothing out of place.
Without missing a beat, Keung caught a glimpse of Jin veering sharply left, cutting through the dense street and disappearing up a narrow and empty staircase. Keung followed in pursuit, his body adjusting to the confined space of the stairwell. The passage was a tight squeeze, his shoulders grazing against the cold, brick walls, yet he didn’t slow his spiral ascent.
Han’s shouts echoed loudly down the stairwell in the heat of the chase. ‘STOP! WE WILL SHOOT! BY ORDER OF THE EMPEROR, STOP!’
As Keung ascended three steps a time, the echoes of the shouts faded, telling him the hunt had moved beyond the stairwell. He clambered up the last few flights and came to an abrupt halt at a shattered window, shards of glass still clinging to the frame. He popped his head outside and looked up.
There — above him — the Rioters were scaling the sheer face of the groundscraper, moving with reckless speed. The Tai Li, undeterred, followed close behind, their figures scrambling up just below. The hunt was still on. Keung didn’t hesitate. His eyes locked onto a narrow ledge just beyond the window. With a swift motion, he wedged his body through the frame, feeling the rough edges of the remaining glass graze his leather coat.
There he stood, teetering on the edge of a deadly drop, the sprawling cityscape below a blur of neon and LED lights and frantic motion. The sheer scale of South Kowloon unfolded beneath him, the tangled crisscross of bridges and mega-highways weaving through the vibrant city, utterly oblivious to the life-or-death drama playing out above.
An unexpected drizzle added a layer of danger to the chase. The ledge beneath Keung’s feet turned slick, a single misstep threatening a deadly plunge into the city below. Doubts crept in his mind — was this chase worth it? Did he even have a chance of catching up?
Suddenly, tiny pebbles rained down on his cap, drawing his gaze upwards. The sight of Jin’s boots scrambling against the wall sparked his spirit back to life. I’m not giving up before the Tai Li do. Jolted back to the present, Keung started to climb. His hands found grip on a protruding brick, then a pipe, then a small ledge jutting from a window. His fingers latched onto cracked plaster, anything he could hold. One hand after another, foot by foot, he climbed — higher, faster.
Keung glanced up again, spotting Jin moving horizontally, inching his way to the far side of the groundscraper. Without hesitation, Keung followed, shimmying along a narrow ledge. As he rounded the corner, another groundscraper loomed just 3 meters in front — a yawning gap of open air separating him from the next structure.
From the top corner of his eye, Keung caught a glimpse of Han leap off the wall above him, landing on a balcony across the gap. Jin followed, his leap falling short — he clung desperately to the railing, dangling for a split second before pulling himself up.
Keung wasted no time. He hauled himself up onto the ledge and launched his body through the air, his boots hitting the balcony with a jarring thud. He stumbled but kept his balance, rushing through the door and into the chaos of someone’s home.
The scene was pandemonium. A young woman stood on a couch, clutching two children and shrieking at the top of her lungs, waving a wooden spoon like a sword. Jin vaulted over the dining table and charged toward the front door, slamming it open. Keung sprinted after him, but his foot caught the edge of the table, sending him crashing hard to the floor. He rolled with the fall, springing back up and sprinting after Jin, the woman’s screams fading behind him.
Outside was Jin, hunched over, heaving and panting as if he had run a marathon. Keung allowed his pace to slacken to a jog as he approached the winded Tai Li. Giving him an encouraging pat on the back, Keung sucked in great lungfuls of air, his gaze scanning the surroundings.
‘I…hnnnnn, lost them…’ Jin exhaled, finally standing up straight. Keung looked out ahead at the crowded street moving slowly in both directions. No signs of the chase.
‘Call Han,’ Keung instructed. ‘Hopefully, we can still catch up…’ His words slowly faded as he and Jin realised something unsettling.
Random members of the crowd around them were stepping out to surround them…donning black robes, shadowed eyes, and various blunt and sharp weapons in their hands. At first it was two, then it was four, and now there were eight.
Fuck.
The crowd had closed in, tense and buzzing with anticipation. When they realized a Kingmaker was involved, recording devices were whipped out, and within moments, the Kowlooni Network was flooded with livestreams of the showdown — A Kingmaker facing off against Yang militants, a fight never captured before.
But Keung had no idea of the spectacle surrounding him. All he knew was there were eight Yangs, and Jin was supposed to handle half of them.
Keung had trained to fight in sync with other Kingmakers, but Jin was Tai Li — different tactics, different rhythms. Keung could only hope they’d make it work.
One of the Yangs approached Keung, a knife glinting in his hand. Another stepped toward Jin, slapping a zuche bat against his palm. Jin wasted no time — he sprang at the bat-wielding Yang, ducking under a wild swing and unleashing a rapid series of kicks to the man’s head.
The sudden burst of movement drew Keung’s attention for a split second — a mistake. Before he could react, he felt thick hands loop under his arms, clasping the back of his head in a tight grip. He struggled, eyes wide, as the gruff voice behind him shouted, ‘Brother! I’ve got him! Go for the neck!’
Keung’s heart pounded as he saw a knife-wielding Yang close in, a twisted grin on his face. Jin was locked in a fight with three other Yangs — Keung was on his own.
His arms were pinned, but his legs were still free. Just as the blade arced toward him, Keung snapped his legs up, delivering a hard kick to the assailant’s wrist. The knife veered off course, narrowly missing his throat.
But the Yang wasn’t done. He slashed again, coming from the opposite side. Keung reacted instantly, firing off another kick that struck the man’s wrist, deflecting the blade once more. The force of the blow sent the knife flying from the man’s grip.
‘What the fuck are you doing?!’ the man holding Keung roared at his Yang companion.
‘Hold him still!’ the knife-wielder snarled, snatching the blade from the ground. He lunged again, slashing across Keung’s chest, but the blade scraped uselessly against the armour beneath Keung’s trench coat.
‘You can’t slash armour, you fucking imbecile!’ the man shouted from behind. ‘Stab the prick!’
Frustration surged through the knife-wielder. ‘Why won’t you just die?!’ he bellowed, charging again. This time, he aimed a vicious thrust at Keung’s belly. He reacted instantly, driving his knee up to knock the man’s wrist upward. The attacker recovered quickly, switching the knife to his other hand and plunging it down toward base of Keung’s neck.
Keung inhaled sharply, summoning every ounce of strength he had left. In one swift motion, he yanked himself down, pulling the man behind him forward and over him. The attacker’s shoulder swung over Keung’s head — not enough to unbalance him completely, but enough to drag him into the path of the incoming blade.
The knife plunged deep into the man’s shoulder, sinking through flesh and muscle.
The man behind Keung howled in agony, his grip faltering. ‘FUCK ME, WHAT ARE YOU DOING, YOU IDIOT?!’ he screamed, his body trembling with the shock of the injury. His enormous weight sagged against Keung, nearly pinning him down.
The knife-wielder released his grasp on the handle, leaving the blade embedded in his companion’s shoulder. The pain appeared to overtake the hulking figure, causing his vice-like grip on Keung to slacken. With a swift rear kick, he drove his boot into the man’s gut, shoving him backward. The grip finally broke, and Keung rolled free, springing to his feet, instantly ready for the next move, eyes darting for the next threat.
Glancing back, Keung saw Jin locked in a struggle with two Yangs. Keung tried to turn towards him, but a heavy pipe slammed into his gut. He doubled over, just in time to take an uppercut to the jaw, followed by another Yang suplexing him over his shoulder.
Keung’s body was struggling to keep up. He ducked and weaved through the next flurry of blows, but one misstep sent him reeling again. Despite his rigorous training, Keung felt his defences crumbling. His blocks and dodges faltered, and the Yangs’ punches and kicks began landing with alarming frequency. He was no longer in control — this fight was turning into a brutal beat down.
A sharp kick cracked into his ribs, driving the air from his lungs. A punch to his face blurred his vision, and a bat swung into his stomach, forcing a metallic taste into his mouth. Keung’s mind began to disassociate, having full conversations with himself in his mind as he failed to react.
Have I always been this bad at fighting? Heck, Jin has been doing better than me this entire mission…
His vision flickered blue—his Eye was trying to activate. But Keung’s exhaustion left him vulnerable, and every blink only seemed to invite more blows. His consciousness ebbed as he fought to stay upright, struggling to control his faulty Eye. Keung almost let the reigns of his body go, hoping Jin would eventually come help him.
Goddammit, this piece of shit Eye just turns on when it wants to. Didn’t it also turn on back when…
Then, like a switch flipping, his Eye blazed to life. A riot of colours burst into his vision, electric blue and searing red outlining his attackers. His body moved on instinct, driven by the Eye’s precision. It took over, guiding Keung’s strikes with terrifying efficiency. His limbs became weapons, cutting down the Yangs one by one with mechanical precision.
Four became three. Three became two. Two became one. With each attack, Keung wrestled against the Eye’s control, desperate to reclaim his body. Sweat poured down his face as he struggled to resist the artificial force driving him. Finally, when the last Yang fell, Keung forced a hard blink, deactivating the Eye.
Jin, bloodied but standing, dropped the second-last Yang on his side. When Keung slowly rejoined him, Jin looked shocked seeing the state of Keung’s face, beaten to a bloody pulp.
‘Consider your odds carefully, scum,’ Jin snarled at the final Yang, blood trickling from his lip. ‘Surrender now, and I might just let the Kings take you. Lok and Ying have no mercy for you Yangs anymore.’
The remaining Yang looked frantic as he oscillated his gaze between his fallen allies and the formidable duo standing before him. Then, his eyes darted to someone in the crowd. A shiver of anticipation ran through the onlookers, their eyes eagerly following the man’s gaze, wondering what the final act of this drama would hold.
‘Fuck you all! Long live the Yang!’
A canister suddenly rolled out from the crowd, spewing smoke. A blinding flash exploded, throwing the scene into chaos. Keung and Jin shielded their eyes as the world dissolved into disorienting smoke and panic.
Blinking hard to restore his sight, Jin made a desperate dash towards the device, flinging it far away into the crowds. But it was too late; their visibility had been swallowed whole by the thick, billowing smoke.
‘Sir!’ Jin shouted from within the smoke. ‘I’ve lost visual of the Yang!’
Quickly recovering his wits, Keung barked his orders. ‘They’re trying to escape! Search for them, they have a Kingmaker captive!’