Execution

The air was still. The only sound heard was the clanking of metal as a man danced with his metal fan against six assailants. Moonlight twinkled off his fan, painting quicksilver arcs in the dark. Each sweep sent a flash of light dancing through the gloom.

He reveled in the choreography, barely breaking a sweat. His robes fluttering in the night air while his opponents struggled to keep up with his fluidity and grace.

And how could they not? The man was a semi-master, a title achieved by only a rare few. Whispered more than spoken—perhaps one in 50,000 in their lifetime.

Building upon the honor bordering on legend, he stood on the precipice of mastery, the very peak of his level, on the verge of ascending to the rank of master. Facing a few unrefined dancers was nothing short of delightful for him. This battle was no hardship, but an indulgence.

Then he saw it.

A flicker of movement—one of the six lunged, their robe parting for but a moment. Pale skin peeked through, embellished with an inked symbol—a lotus, dark and symbolic, its petals curling, whispering from the past.

To an untrained eye, the tattoo was nothing. To him... It was as familiar as the air he breathed. His eyes narrowed, His grip tightening ever so slightly on the hilt of his fan.

A deflection. A pivot. A calculated grab. He twisted the assailant's wrist, pulling them close. A single step had altered the rhythm of their dance, the motion seemed almost tender.

A gasp, a stumble.

The air itself shifted as the remaining fighters staggered, their carefully rehearsed formations unraveling at the seams.

A veil loosened, teased by the night breeze. With a quick motion, the man unveiled their face completely. She was beautiful—undeniably feminine. His suspicions grew stronger.

The woman attempted to push herself away, but in her haste, she stumbled. He caught her effortlessly, executing a move so cliché it could have been plucked straight from an enemies-to-lovers romance novel. As he held her firm, her hair tumbled free, silvered by the moonlight.

There was no longer any doubt.

For a moment, they remained frozen in place, locked in an unspoken exchange. His gaze drifted once more to the tattoo—positioned slightly over her heart. Perhaps he was a bit of a pervert for noticing, but he didn't care. He had to confirm his suspicions.

And then he saw it.

A crimson crescent. A nail hammered shut.

His breath caught. The words escaped before he could stop them.

"Black Lotus?"

All six assailants halted.

The woman closest to him twisted free, spinning dramatically before regaining her stance. Her unveiled face was now clear for all to see.

She met his gaze.

"We have a message for your master," she said, unwavering. "Tell her the true lotus will bloom. We are coming back for our sect."

With that, the six figures—likely all female—vanished into the night.

For a moment, the man stood in a daze, processing the information. A surge of qi snapped him back to reality.

His unofficial partner had already subdued the remaining enemies.

"You seemed to be enjoying yourself a little too much," the woman remarked before turning toward the door, effortlessly carrying one of the defeated on her back.

The man followed her inside.

"Mo Yan! Mo Yan!"

He blinked, the memory of the lotus tattoo still fresh behind his eyes. His gaze shifting from the lotus tattoo on Zi Bi the woman standing beside him, her own tattoo concealed beneath silk.

He forced himself to refocus.

"Sorry, Grandmaster."

"Are you tired?" Mingyao asked, studying his face. "If you are, you can sit this one out."

Mo Yan straightened, forcing a smirk. "No, Grandmaster, I was just a little lost in thought. How could I miss such an exciting event?"

Her lips curved slightly. "Good."

Mingyao hummed before turning to Zi Bi. "Zi Bi, hide the stolen ledger. But not too well—just enough that it won't be seen unless someone truly looks for it."

Zi Bi nodded. "Right away, Pavilion Master."

A soft shuffle of feet. A presence entered the room, a rustle of fabric against polished wood.

Bai Ling bowed slightly.

"Pavilion Master, the Chen siblings have finally left the building."

Mingyao's lips set into the faintest smirk. "Thank you, Bai Ling. Wait at the entrance for our guests—it's about time for the show to start."

Mo Yan frowned. "Grandmaster, are you sure the governor will show up?"

Mingyao's smirk bloomed. "Who said I was waiting for the governor?"

Mo Yan hesitated. "But... didn't you say you were expecting guests? I assumed you meant the magistrate. But from your demeanor, it must be someone even more important."

Mingyao's eyes gleamed mischievously. "Exactly."

"Then," Mo Yan exhaled, "Who is more important than the governor? For the other bank to call on us..."

Mingyao turned slightly, the fabric of her robe following. "You'll see."

Mo Yan grinned. "I can't wait."

Then, silence. A long, awkward one.

Mo Yan cleared his throat. "So… Grandmaster," he began, trying to break the silence. "The Chens, ahh..."

Mingyao arched a brow. "What do you mean?"

"You know… now that you have Chen Xiao's heart, what's next?"

"Taking over their assets, of course."

Mo Yan chuckled. "Aren't you worried he might have misunderstood your intentions?"

Mingyao tilted her head. "Misunderstood? What is there to misunderstand?"

"Come on. A beautiful woman like you, walking hand in hand with a handsome face like mine—what's there not to misunderstand?"

She rolled her eyes. "Mo Yan, stop with the jokes. But…"

"But what?"

Mingyao hesitated, her fingers tapping against her sleeve."Do you think this will hurt the affection he has for me?"

Mo Yan's smirk faded. "Why do you ask? Are you actually considering becoming a Chen?"

Mingyao's expression neutral. "I'm serious, Mo Yan. I'm not done with them yet. If I lose his trust now, it will be difficult to recover."

Mo Yan sighed,running a hand through his hair. "Don't worry, Grandmaster. A little jealousy will only deepen his affection. And even if he does lose interest, we can recover from it." He paused, then added in a near whisper, "He doesn't deserve you."

Mingyao studied him for a moment before a smirk. "I suppose you're right. There's always Chen Luwei. Maybe you should try your luck."

Mo Yan let out a short laugh. "Ha! What a good joke, Grandmaster."

Before another word, Bai Ling reappeared, anxiety evident in her movements.

"Pavilion Master, there are some people here asking for the owner."

Mingyao straightened. "Who?"

Bai Ling swallowed hard. "They say… they say they're from the Censorate."

A slow smile spread across Mingyao's lips.

"Let the fun begin."

She rose from her seat.