The Assassin’s Strike

The boardroom was silent, except for the soft clinking of glasses and the rhythmic ticking of an antique clock on the far wall. Mei Lian and Luo Jian sat at the head of the obsidian table, the digital interface glowing beneath their fingertips. Around them, the remaining council members of the Nine Dragons observed in measured stillness, waiting for their new rulers to dictate the next move.

Haruto stood near the entrance, blending into the shadows. He had always been the quiet one—the observer. The blade was waiting to be unsheathed.

Mei Lian leaned forward, her voice smooth as polished jade. “With Wei Long removed, we can finally—”

A faint whir cut through the air.

Mei Lian stiffened. Her fingers twitched toward her neck, where a thin line of red had begun to bead across her skin. Her pupils dilated in shock as her breath came in ragged gasps.

Luo Jian reacted instantly, pushing back his chair and reaching for the concealed pistol under the table.

Too slow.