Familiar unfamiliarity

The wind picked up, carrying the scent of blood and sweat away from the alley.

In the shifting shadows, a lone figure stood—silent, unmoving. His robes billowed gently with the wind, the fabric whispering against the night.

Hua Jing squinted.

That figure… it was familiar.

Something about the way he stood, his posture, the effortless authority in his stance—she had seen it before.

But with the shadows concealing him, she couldn't make out his features.

She barely had time to dwell on it before the remaining bandits, seeing their fallen comrade and the sword lodged into the wall, scrambled to their feet.

"P-please, spare us!" one of them stammered, tripping over his own feet in his hurry to escape.

Another grabbed his unconscious comrade and hoisted him onto his back. "L-let's get out of here!"

Without hesitation, the group turned to flee, their confidence shattered beyond repair.