Chapter 357
Seven assassins were down, and ten remained.
The group leader felt a chill run down his spine. His wide, disbelieving eyes fixed on Felicia, who stood under the moonlight with an air of complete calm.
She was young, barely 19, yet her demeanor showed no fear or panic. She stood with her hands. clasped behind her back, her sharp, clear gaze scanning the assassins as if surveying a corpse
lineup.
The leader’s heart pounded against his ribs. He had spilled enough blood to feel invincible, yet for the first time, he found himself shaken–by a woman half his age.
“Watch out for her poison!” he barked, masking his unease with a gruff shout. “Surround her! Take her down!”
The assassins, seasoned professionals, didn’t hesitate. Despite the deadly toll Felicia’s poison had already taken, they quickly recalibrated their strategy. They tightened their encirclement, avoiding the wind’s direction and sparing themselves to avoid concentrated attacks. Their blades gleamed in the dim light.
Felicia rolled a small sphere in her palm, pretending to prepare for another throw. Her feint worked perfectly–one of the leading assassins flinched and sidestepped, breaking formation,
In that split–second distraction, Felicia flicked out a silver needle. It whistled through the air and embedded itself in the assassin’s neck.
The scream died in his throat. He crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
Nine more assassins left.
The leader cursed under his breath. His patience snapped, and he surged forward, knife in
hand.
Before he could close the gap, however, another few assassins fell. This time, it wasn’t Felicia’s doing–it was Maurice’s four bodyguards.
The guards, bloodied but unrelenting, had finally managed to free themselves. Now, with their backs to the wall, they fought with a ferocity that rivaled the assassins‘.
Felicia didn’t waste the opportunity. Standing back, she sent needle after needle flying, each one finding its mark with surgical precision.
The tide began to turn.
Ten minutes later, the battleground was silent.
Seventeen assassins lay motionless on the ground. Not one had escaped.
Felicia stepped forward, crouching beside the leader’s lifeless body. She rummaged through his clothing, her expression unreadable. As expected, there was nothing–no identification,
no hint of who had sent them.
Her fingers brushed over the thick calluses on his palms, telltale signs of years spent wielding weapons. A cold smile tugged at her lips. These were professional assassins. But who hired them?
Felicia rose, dusting her hands. Her calm, measured voice carried easily to Maurice’s bodyguards.
“Tell Mr. Glovers this–I’ll get rid of the twin venomous creatures when I’m ready. Until then, he’d better watch his step. If he keeps pushing me, I won’t hesitate to let him. go
Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked away.
The men exchanged uneasy glances,
first.”
They wanted to explain that they had nothing to do with the attack, but doubt crept in when they considered Maurice’s erratic tendencies. It wouldn’t be the first time he had staged something reckless just to toy with someone.
Still, the scene before them was undeniable. Seventeen dead assassins and four battered. bodyguards. And in the middle of it all, a calm, composed Felicia who had saved their lives more than once during the fight.
One of them sighed. “We’d better report this. Maybe we can talk some sense into Mr. Glovers. He needs to stop this nonsense before someone actually dies.”
However, when they relayed the incident back to Maurice, the response wasn’t what they expected.
“Kill her? When did I ever send anyone to kill her?”
His voice dripped with incredulity.
“Mr. Glovers, we thought-”
“What? That I’d waste good assassins on someone tied to my own life?” Maurice barked. “Use your brains! Do I look like an idiot?”
The men hesitated. Then, one muttered under his breath, “It’s not like you’ve never done something crazy before…”
“What was that?” Maurice’s tone promised retribution.
Maurice let out a string of curses, his irritation barely contained. But when he heard how Felicia had handled the attack–taking down seven assassins on her own–his temper shifted.
“Damn,” he muttered, a sly grin spreading across his face. “She has guts.”
