What happened next occurred with such speed that even the cultivators among Wudi Egun's group struggled to follow the sequence of events.
The two black-clad figures seemed to flicker rather than move, their forms blurring as they crossed the space between themselves and the middle-aged man. There was no dramatic build-up, no exchange of threats or techniques—just the clinical efficiency of trained killers who viewed their task as nothing more than routine pest control.
The middle-aged cultivator barely had time to register the threat before it was upon him. His eyes widened in belated recognition of his error, his hands moving to form what might have been a defensive technique.
Golden light flared around him as he attempted to channel his Qi into a protective barrier.
It was too late.
A flash of silver—the first indication that the assassins carried blades of some kind—and the man's head separated from his shoulders in a clean, precise cut that cauterized even as it severed. Before the head could fall or the body begin to collapse, a second stroke split his torso vertically from collar to groin, the two halves falling away from each other with a terrible symmetry.
Most shocking was not the violence itself—they had witnessed far worse in their short time within the city—but the complete absence of blood.
Whatever blades the assassins wielded had somehow sealed the wounds instantly, preventing the usual spray that would have accompanied such devastating injuries.
The entire execution had taken less than two seconds from Zhao Yunli's command to its completion. Before anyone could fully process what they had witnessed, the assassins had already gathered the dismembered remains and vanished through a side door, leaving no evidence of the confrontation save for a slight scuff mark on the floor where the man had stood.
Conversations gradually resumed throughout the inn, patrons returning to their meals and drinks as if nothing unusual had occurred. This, perhaps, was the most disturbing aspect of the entire incident—the complete normalization of such brutality, accepted as simply another aspect of daily life within the City of Sin.
Zhao Yunli's gaze shifted to Wudi Egun's group, his expression darkening as he noticed their stunned faces.
"What the fuck are you staring at with those useless eyes?" he snapped, his hand moving to rest near the drawer from which he had retrieved their key—a gesture that carried an implicit threat. "Take your key and get out of my sight before I decide you're as annoying as that fool was."
The warning jolted them from their shocked immobility. Driver Mo quickly pocketed the key and gestured for the others to follow him toward the stairs that presumably led to their room. None of them spoke as they moved away from the counter, each processing what they had witnessed in their own way.
Only when they had ascended to the first floor and located room twenty-one did Driver Mo break the silence, his voice barely above a whisper despite the solid door now closed behind them.
"That," he said, "was our first glimpse of why the Crouching Tiger Inn remains untouched even in this lawless city. Those assassins were not ordinary cultivators but something far more dangerous—Shadow Walkers, if I'm not mistaken."
"Shadow Walkers?" Liang Nian'er echoed, her modified features unable to completely mask her lingering shock. "I thought they were just legends—stories to frighten children."
Driver Mo shook his head grimly. "Very real, and very lethal. They're said to be created rather than born—their humanity sacrificed through forbidden rituals that bind their souls directly to whoever commands them. They cannot disobey, cannot be bribed or reasoned with, and cannot be detected by normal spiritual senses until the moment they strike."
This explanation did nothing to ease the tension that had settled over the group. If anything, it heightened their awareness of just how dangerous their current situation was. They had sought refuge from the horrors of the city streets, only to find themselves under the same roof as creatures that made ordinary cultivators seem harmless by comparison.
Li Meixia moved to the room's single window, carefully peering through a gap in the heavy curtains at the street below. Night had fallen completely during their confrontation with Zhao Yunli, transforming the already nightmarish city into something even more terrifying.
The few people visible moved with the furtive haste of prey animals, hugging walls and glancing constantly over their shoulders. Occasionally, shadows moved in ways that suggested something other than human activity.
"We should rest while we can," she said, letting the curtain fall back into place. "Tomorrow we'll gather whatever information we need and leave this place as quickly as possible."
No one argued with this assessment. They arranged the room's sparse furnishings to create separate sleeping areas, establishing a watch rotation that would ensure at least two people remained awake at all times. Despite the relative safety of the inn compared to the streets outside, none of them felt secure enough to lower their guard completely.
As the others settled into their assigned spaces, Wudi Egun found himself positioned near the door, sharing the first watch with Li Meixia.
For a time, they sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts as the sounds of the inn gradually quieted below them.
"You weren't surprised," Li Meixia finally observed, her voice so low that even in the quiet room, he had to lean slightly closer to hear her. "When those assassins appeared—when they killed that man—everyone else reacted with shock. But not you."
It wasn't quite an accusation, but the question behind her statement was clear: What did he know that the others didn't? What experiences had he had that made such brutality seem expected rather than shocking?
Wudi Egun considered her for a long moment, his expression revealing nothing of his thoughts. When he finally spoke, his words were carefully measured, as always.
"Surprise requires expectations," he said simply. "I try not to form them about places or people I haven't yet encountered."
It was a non-answer that revealed nothing while sounding profound—a technique he had perfected during their journey together. Yet something in Li Meixia's gaze suggested she was beginning to see through such deflections, to recognize the careful construction of his responses and the deliberate gaps they contained.
"The materials we seek," she said, changing the subject with equal care. "They will be difficult to obtain even in a place where morality is as flexible as it is here. The bone of a Demon, in particular... such items are not merely rare but forbidden in most territories."
Wudi Egun nodded slightly, acknowledging the implicit question without directly addressing it.
"All paths to power require sacrifice," he replied. "Some more than others."
The ambiguity of this statement hung between them—another piece in the puzzle of who and what Wudi Egun truly was. Was he referring to the sacrifices he personally was willing to make? Or to sacrifices he expected from others? Or perhaps to something darker—sacrifices of others that he was willing to perform?
Before Li Meixia could pursue this line of thought further, a sound from outside their door caused both of them to tense. Footsteps, light but deliberate, approached along the hallway, pausing directly outside their room.
For several heartbeats, nothing happened—no knock, no attempt to open the door, just the sense of a presence waiting on the other side.
Then, as silently as they had arrived, the footsteps retreated, fading into the distance until they could no longer be heard.
"A test," Wudi Egun murmured, his hand moving away from the pouch at his waist where he kept the demonic skull and other tools of his mysterious craft. "To see if we were alert or vulnerable."
Li Meixia nodded, her own hand relaxing from where it had moved to a concealed weapon within her robes "The first of many, I suspect. This city tests everyone who enters it—constantly, relentlessly, until it finds a weakness to exploit."
As if to emphasize her point, a scream echoed from somewhere in the distance—a sound of such pure terror and agony that it penetrated even the thick walls of the inn. It continued for several seconds before being abruptly cut short, leaving a silence that seemed somehow worse than the scream itself.
"We should wake the others for the next watch soon," Li Meixia said after a moment, her voice steady despite the grim reminder of where they were. "Tomorrow will require all our strength and focus."
Wudi Egun nodded in agreement, his eyes moving to the window where a sliver of moonlight penetrated between the curtains. In that faint illumination, his ordinary features seemed momentarily transformed—angles sharpening, shadows deepening, until he appeared almost like a different person entirely.
Then he shifted slightly, and the illusion—if illusion it was—vanished, leaving only the unremarkable alchemist they had traveled with for weeks. Yet the brief glimpse of something else, something hidden beneath the carefully maintained facade, lingered in Li Meixia's mind as she prepared to wake Liang Chen and his sister for their turn at watch.
Outside, the City of Sin continued its nocturnal activities, each more terrible than the last. Within their room, the travelers maintained their vigilance, all too aware that the horrors they had witnessed thus far were likely only the mildest examples of what this place was capable of inflicting on those who failed to navigate its dangers successfully.