He took a deep breath. The scar on his temple contorted with the effort, and the last trace of hesitation was replaced by ruthless determination.
A sudden gust of wind burst through the window, sending the lanterns inside the hall swinging violently.
The dim, yellow light cast the five men's shadows on the wall. The shadows twisted and warped, like five fiends with bared claws, snarling at their invisible prey.
The sycamore leaves in the courtyard rustled loudly in the wind, interspersed with faint wails carried from a distance.
The rain of blood in Cyan Yang Ancient City had only just begun.
...
Morning dew dotted the grass of the Seven Stars Gang Sub-Branch's Martial Arts Arena.
A passing breeze swirled up a few blades of withered grass, which seemed more alive than the people training in the arena.
