The woman inside the shed took nearly two minutes to realize she had been saved.

  A new shadow had appeared before her, its figure silhouetted against the flickering firelight outside—blurry and indistinct, impossible to tell whether it was a man or a woman.

  A dagger was tossed her way.

  "Kill him, and I’ll get you out of this hellhole," Clara said in a low voice.

  It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a command—cold, resolute, and absolute. No second option. Only if this woman killed the gang leader under Clara’s blade would they truly be on the same side, and the chance of betrayal drop to near zero.

  A woman!

  The figure lying on the ground, now clutching the dagger, was stunned. She wanted to ask who this mysterious person was but was met only with a sharp “shhh!” and a wave of killing intent so fierce it stole her voice.

  She reached for the dagger, unsheathed it, took a deep breath, gripped the handle tightly—and stabbed straight into the man’s chest!

  Once wasn’t enough. She stabbed again.

  Clara had already clamped a hand over the man’s mouth, not letting a single sound escape.

  "Enough," Clara ordered as the woman moved in for a third strike.

  The man was well and truly dead. Any more blood might arouse suspicion.

  Thankfully, he had just lost a finger earlier that day—so a little blood smell wouldn’t raise any red flags.

  "Who are you?" the woman asked, her voice trembling as she still clutched the blood-streaked dagger.

  The horror she’d just endured had stripped away the fear of taking a life. Her heart pounded like a war drum—she didn’t even fully comprehend what she’d done, or what came next.

  In this dazed state, Clara’s words became programming instructions. Whatever Clara said, she would follow.

  Clara didn’t answer her. Instead, she asked, “What’s your name?”

  “Elena Yin.”

  “Do you know who the bandit chief is?”

  “Yes.”

  “The man in scholar’s robes who just handed you over to this one?”

  “Yes.”

  “The three henchmen beside him—are they the ‘Three Kings’?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you know where they sleep?”

  “All in the cave. Only those four sleep there. The Three Kings are terrifyingly strong. One of them sleeps with his eyes open—he’s got incredible hearing. The bandit chief has him stand guard at night.”

  Clara raised her brows. That was a lot of clear information, and quickly said. She was fully awake now.

  It was dark inside the shed, and Clara couldn’t see her face clearly, but she could tell Elena Yin was shaking even more violently now.

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  “Don’t be afraid. I won’t kill you. What you just told me—think of it as payment for saving your life.”

  As she spoke, she dragged the corpse into the corner, arranging him to look like he’d just lain down to sleep.

  Then she sat down quietly beside the door.

  Elena asked softly, “Are you going to kill the bandit chief?”

  Clara didn’t answer. She just extended her hand—wordlessly demanding the return of the dagger.

  “I—can I hold onto it for just a bit longer? I don’t have anything to defend myself with, and this dagger—”

  “Hand it over,” Clara interrupted coldly. Without waiting for her to finish, she snatched it back, wiped the blood clean, and tucked it at her waist.

  Silence fell inside the shed. Elena struggled to keep her eyes open.

  Waiting was long and hard, but Clara was used to it.

  None of the bandits had the slightest idea that an outsider was already walking among them.

  Clara remained seated at the shed’s edge, watching as the drunken revelry of the night gave way to slumber.

  The campfires dimmed. Snores echoed across the mountain.

  A faint flicker of light still glowed from the cave. At the entrance, a hulking man paced back and forth, eventually yawning and leaning against the cliff wall, closing his eyes.

  But Clara could hear from his breathing—he wasn’t really asleep.

  No matter. She’d put him to rest permanently.

  A drifting black cloud obscured the moonlight. Dawn was near. It was hunting time.

  Clara stepped out from the shed, bold and unhurried. As soon as she approached the cave, the man on watch—true to Elena’s warning—opened his eyes at once.

  Swish!

  An arrow screamed through the air with devastating force, piercing straight through his throat.

  "Ugh!" The guard let out a strangled cry and collapsed.

  Clara sprinted to the cave, using the faint light within to sweep her gaze across the three men still sleeping on bamboo cots.

  She dashed forward. As she passed the nearest one—just before he fully opened his eyes—Clara drew her dagger and plunged it into his throat.

  A gurgle of blood gushed out. Clara was already moving to the next.

  This one reacted fast—springing upright with astonishing reflexes. He dodged her dagger and snatched up a massive saber to counterattack.

  But against overwhelming force, such resistance meant little.

  Her bowstring wound around his thick arm, pulled taut, and twisted—forcing him to release the saber. It clattered to the floor.

  Clara lifted her long blade—and down came the head!

  “Who goes there—”

  King Howler, startled awake, had just opened his mouth when Clara charged forward, kicking him over.

  She looped her bow around his neck, choking him hard—then raised her blade and brought it down.

  Blood splattered across her face.

  She wiped the droplets from her eyes with the back of her hand, grabbed two of the heads, chopped off the last two, stuffed all four into the King’s robe, and bolted with it.

  She ran back to Elena’s shed, dragged her out, and the two of them darted into the forest path beside the camp.

  None of the bandits had realized yet that their chief and his three top men were already in the underworld.

  Clara pulled Elena to the top of the mountain. She turned back to look at the campsite below, and let out a triumphant laugh.

  She set down her heavy bundle, pulled out the two signal flares from her chest, and fired them into the sky.

  Bang! Bang!

  Two deafening explosions thundered from the summit of Fishbone Mountain. In the darkest hour before dawn, two brilliant red flares lit the sky.

  Down below, just as County Deputy roused from a near nap, the light blazed across his eyes. He looked up in shock—and then with joy.

  Shocked that Clara had succeeded on time.

  Elated that the bandit chief was dead—and that their Office was about to claim a great victory.

  “Wake up! Everyone up!”

  The soldiers on watch shouted frantically, rousing the rest. All thirty-six soldiers leapt up, pumped with adrenaline, and charged up toward Fishbone Mountain.

  At the bandit camp, people finally noticed the flares. Then someone ran to the cave—and screamed when they saw the four headless corpses.

  “King Howler is dead!”

  That one cry sent the whole camp into chaos.

  No one knew what to do—until the sky began to lighten and a sharp whistle pierced the air from the watchtower.

  “The soldiers are coming!!”

  Even as the cry sounded, Clara reappeared behind the guard and slit his throat.

  She swiftly dispatched the bandits guarding the outer fence, then used her strength to lift the two-meter barricade aside—opening a path for the charging soldiers.

  To prevent the bandits from fighting to the death with no escape, she even left a small gap—giving them false hope they could flee.

  With all these advantages in place, if the soldiers still couldn’t wipe out the gang, Clara might just cough blood in frustration.

  Thankfully, by the time she retreated back to the summit and reunited with Elena, the battle below was already in full swing.

  The soldiers charged in with momentum, slaying or capturing over eighty bandits in one go.

  The remaining dozen or so tried to flee—but were caught by the County Deputy’s ambush squads lying in wait below.

  (End of Chapter)

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