The night was as dark as ink. Crimson Nine lay low against the horse's back, the wind roaring in her ears. The vibration frequency of her bracer suddenly spiked, and a cold, synthesized electronic voice—audible only to her—rang out in her mind:
> "Scan complete. Targets: 12. Threat assessment: 8 repeating crossbows, 4 short-handled polearms. Suggested attack path: Right-hand spiral entry."
The distance closed rapidly. Through the dim moonlight, Crimson Nine could faintly see the group of Southern Tang assassins hurrying along, escorting a prison carriage.
"Blue Five, give me the bow," Crimson Nine shouted. She didn't look back, merely extending her right hand.
Behind her, Blue Five understood instantly. She passed the specialized compound bow, gleaming with a cold metallic sheen, precisely into Crimson Nine's hand.
Crimson Nine caught the bow with one hand. In the split second of the horse's gallop, her left hand drew three carbon-fiber arrows from the quiver. This bow, crafted with modern engineering, possessed immense draw weight and surgical precision—in the hands of a top-tier sniper like Crimson Nine, it was the scythe of the Grim Reaper.
Click. Crimson Nine notched the three arrows, their tips coated in a specialized sedative, onto the string.
Just as they were within a hundred meters and the assassins turned, sensing movement behind them, Crimson Nine jerked the horse's mane tight. Using the micro-second of stability as the horse skidded, she narrowed her eyes. The system locked onto the three lead assassins in an instant.
"Startling String—Sky-Breaker!"
Crimson Nine exhaled and released.
Swish! Swish! Swish!
Three piercing whistles rang out almost simultaneously. The arrows, as if possessing a will of their own, curved through the moonlight with terrifying speed, burying themselves into the shoulders and thighs of the lead assassins.
Amid the sound of falling bodies and panicked roars, the organized formation shattered. Crimson Nine flipped her hand and drew the Chu Family Sword, pointing the tip straight at the carriage.
"Yellow Seven, we're here!"
The iron hooves thundered like a storm, shaking the earth. Crimson Nine and Blue Five rode as one in the biting wind.
"Captain, cover me!" Blue Five yelled. Despite the extreme turbulence of the full-speed gallop, she didn't hesitate. She released her grip on Crimson Nine's waist and lunged from the moving horse like a lithe black panther.
Hah!
Upon landing, Blue Five used a professional breakfall roll to dissipate the inertia, then sprang forward, turning into a blurred shadow as she cut into the flank of the enemy formation.
Up ahead, Crimson Nine pulled the horse's mane. The steed gave a long neigh, rearing its front hooves. Holding the compound bow steady with her other hand, she fired three more shots in rapid succession, pinning every assassin who tried to intercept Blue Five.
Two assassins barred the way to the carriage, their faces twisted in rage. But Blue Five's speed was beyond imagination. She dropped her center of gravity, slipping past the crossing blades. Three specialized steel needles flicked from her fingers, sinking into their knees. Seizing the opening, she leaped, her hands grabbing the edge of the wooden carriage.
"Yellow Seven! Catch!"
Blue Five flipped herself onto the roof. With a flick of her wrist, a miniature high-frequency cutting blade sliced through the air, landing inside the bars.
Inside the carriage, Yellow Seven was already prepared. Ignoring the blood on her wrists from the shackles, she caught the blade. Within seconds, the black iron chains—strong enough to hold a martial arts master—snapped under the high-frequency friction.
Yellow Seven kicked open the loosened door, the wood splintering. Blue Five hooked one arm around the roof rail and reached inside, her voice low and urgent: "Jump!"
Yellow Seven vaulted out. Their figures blurred for a moment in the wind before they both landed steadily in the tall grass by the road, rolling to absorb the impact in one seamless motion.
The assassin leader, seeing his hostage escape, let out a beast-like roar: "Kill them! Leave no one alive!"
"Go!" Yellow Seven pushed Blue Five. Despite her wounds, her eyes were chillingly calm. She pulled Blue Five back toward the shadows. "Let's get some distance. Don't get in the Captain's way while she's killing."
Blue Five grinned, and the two vanished into the forest like ghosts, leaving the battlefield entirely to the red silhouette on horseback.
Crimson Nine stood alone in the center of the road. The night wind tossed her hair, but it couldn't disperse the thick, tangible murderous intent radiating from her.
Hearing the signal that her teammates were clear, she slowly reversed her grip on the heavy Chu Family Sword. With a crisp ring, the blade cleared its sheath, the cold light reflecting the heartless efficiency of a special ops soldier in her eyes.
"Since you don't want to let her go, then stay here forever." Her voice was low and clear in the dead silence.
The assassins roared and charged, a rain of crossbow bolts flying toward her. Crimson Nine spun on her saddle like a top, the Chu Family Sword turning into a silver crescent moon that carved a bloody horizontal line through the air.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
It was the sound of blades slicing through throats. Crimson Nine used no flowery moves; every strike was designed for maximum lethality. She tore through the formation, her figure flickering left and right. Where the sword light passed, severed limbs and broken blades flew.
A hundred meters away in the grass, Blue Five and Yellow Seven watched the blood spray and the bodies fall.
"Captain's going on a rampage," Blue Five said, brushing back her hair with a smirk.
"That's because they touched me," Yellow Seven said coldly, her fingers tracing the raw skin on her wrists. "If you pluck a tiger's whiskers, you have to be ready to be torn apart."
The moonlight reflected off the Chu Family Sword. Crimson Nine's movements were no longer "martial arts"; they were a series of industrialized cuts, precise and calculated.
Thud.
The last assassin fell. Blood soaked into the soil, staining the grass black. Blue Five crossed her arms, watching the red silhouette under the moon.
"The 'Battle Machine' nickname really isn't just for show," Blue Five marveled with the fervor of a fan. "Look at that posture, the center of gravity, the way she flicks the blood off the blade... it's so cool! If we could record this and play it back at the base, those male soldiers would be drooling in shock."
Yellow Seven rolled her eyes elegantly, wiping a stray drop of blood from her cheek. "Forget about recording. In this environment, I'd be impressed if you could even find a drone to follow her."
Crimson Nine slid her sword back into the sheath with a sharp clack, officially ending the one-sided slaughter. She turned, a streak of blood on her face, her eyes still holding a trace of battle-coldness. Only when she looked at Blue Five and Yellow Seven did her lips quirk into a faint, almost invisible smile.
"Watched enough?" Her voice was raspy from the tension of combat. "If you've seen enough, let's go. Unless you want to stay and bury them."
"Roger that!" Blue Five gave a snappy, professional salute before pulling Yellow Seven toward her.
Though Yellow Seven was wounded and exhausted, seeing Crimson Nine standing there as straight as a pine tree made the year of wandering and uncertainty vanish. In this moment, whether it was Southern Tang's pursuers or Great Qi's conspiracies, as long as this "Battle Machine" was leading them, there was no chaos they couldn't settle.