"Drop the weapon! Put your hands in the air!"
The police captain shouted through a megaphone, sweat dripping down his forehead. Facing him was not a rampaging beast, but a calm young man in a white robe. Yet, the pressure radiating from Jiang Daolin made the captain feel like he was standing next to a ticking nuclear bomb.
Jiang Daolin stood on the steps. He didn't look at the police. He looked up, toward the glass window of a skyscraper three blocks away.
His vision, enhanced by years of cultivation, zoomed in.
There, standing by the window, was a man wearing the exact same face, holding a glass of red wine, smiling down at him.
The Shadow.
Jiang Daolin raised his hand. He didn't surrender. He pointed a finger at the Shadow in the distance and made a "cutting throat" gesture.
Bang!
Suddenly, a gunshot rang out.
It wasn't from the police. It came from a hidden sniper on a nearby roof—a mercenary hired by the Sun Family to ensure Jiang Daolin didn't make it to trial.
The high-caliber bullet aimed straight for Jiang Daolin's heart.
"Target hit!" The sniper grinned.
But in the next second, his grin froze.
The bullet hit Jiang Daolin's chest. But there was no blood. No impact. The "Jiang Daolin" standing on the steps simply... collapsed.
It wasn't a body. It was just a white robe.
The robe fell to the ground, empty. The person who was wearing it had vanished into thin air in the split second before the bullet arrived.
Stitcher's Art: Golden Cicada Sheds Its Shell.
"Where is he?! Where did he go?!" "He disappeared!" "Search the area! Seal the sewers!"
The street erupted into chaos.
Only the sniper saw something terrifying through his scope. On the wall behind where Jiang Daolin stood, a piece of rice paper was pinned by a silver needle.
It read: [I am coming for you.]
...
Midnight. The Sun Family Manor.
Sun Caifu, the head of the Sun Consortium, was hiding in his fortress-like bedroom.
"Is he dead? Did the sniper get him?" Sun Caifu yelled into his phone, his fat face trembling.
"Mr. Sun... we... we lost him," the mercenary leader stammered. "He just... evaporated."
"Useless! All of you are useless!" Sun Caifu smashed his phone. He grabbed a bottle of brandy and gulped it down, trying to drown his fear.
Outside, fifty elite mercenaries guarded his house. The walls were electrified. He should be safe.
Click.
The lights in the bedroom suddenly went out.
"Who's there?! Security!" Sun Caifu pulled out a gold-plated pistol, waving it blindly in the dark.
No answer. Only the sound of rain tapping on the window.
Then, a cold breath blew against his ear.
"Mr. Sun, you laughed very loudly at the club last night."
"AHHH!" Sun Caifu spun around and fired. Bang! Bang!
The bullets hit the wall.
A flash of lightning illuminated the room. Sitting on his velvet sofa, legs crossed, was a figure in a black hoodie. He was playing with a spool of red thread.
"You..." Sun Caifu backed away until he hit the wall. "How did you get in? The guards..."
"The guards are sleeping," Jiang Daolin said softly. "I used a little anesthetic on my needles. They won't wake up until tomorrow."
He stood up and walked toward Sun Caifu.
"The Shadow killed those children to frame me. And you... you funded him."
"No! I didn't! It was the Kylin Organization!" Sun Caifu cried, kneeling on the floor. "I just wanted to live! I'll give you money! I have billions!"
"Money again."
Jiang Daolin sighed. He kicked the gun out of Sun Caifu's hand and stepped on his chest.
"Why do you rich people always think money can buy forgiveness?"
Jiang Daolin took out a long, thick needle.
"You like to laugh? You like to spread rumors?"
"Since your mouth loves to talk so much, I'll help you keep it shut. Forever."
"No... mmmph!!"
Sun Caifu tried to scream, but a silver needle instantly pierced his lips, sealing them together.
Then, the stitching began.
Jiang Daolin's movements were fast and brutal. He wasn't performing art this time; he was delivering punishment. In, out. In, out. The red thread wove through flesh, sewing the tycoon's mouth into a permanent, bloody silence.
Five minutes later.
Sun Caifu lay dead on the floor, eyes wide open in terror. His mouth was stitched shut in a grotesque "X" shape. In his hand, Jiang Daolin placed a list—the list of the twelve dead orphans.
Jiang Daolin walked to the wall. Dipping his finger in the blood, he wrote:
[ONE.]
He put his hood back up and melted into the shadows.
The hunt had officially begun. Nine families left. One Shadow to kill.