At dawn, Tang Mi opened her eyes. The rain had stopped outside, and the faint light from the streetlamp reflected the overcast sky. Thick, lead-colored clouds were rapidly gathering and compressing, like a giant net about to fall on the earth.

The temperature dropped further, and the small cabin felt as cold as an ice cellar. The fire in the stove had already gone out, and the burnt-out charcoal glowed with the last remnants of life, soon to fade.

The surroundings were as silent as death, but there were still occasional sounds. The bathroom faucet dripped, the “drip, drip” echoing off the tiles. Small footsteps mixed with the cracking sounds of crushed branches, perhaps the fishermen were beginning their work. Tang Mi hugged the blanket tightly.

She turned her head, preparing to doze off for a little longer, when suddenly, Arthur beside her sharply opened his eyes, grabbed the gun beside the pillow, and made a quiet gesture for her to be still.

He quietly slid out of bed, pressing his ear to the floor. His tall, muscular body moved with the grace of a leopard. Every muscle under his clothes was taut, filled with impending explosive strength. His pupils contracted, emitting a dangerous gleam, and his brow furrowed with a bloodthirsty aura.

Tang Mi watched Arthur’s movements intently, her heart racing. Her entire body tensed. It was clear—someone was after them. Was it from Country A or MI6? She controlled her breathing, commanding herself to stay calm. Now was not the time for fear.

For Arthur, for the beautiful life they were about to have, she had to be brave and stand by his side, fighting together. No one could steal her happiness, not even a bullet. She clenched her hand so tightly that her nails dug into her palm, her eyes shining with the intensity of a blade.

After a moment, Arthur stood up and gestured toward the left side of the door. Tang Mi understood and silently moved toward the door, pressing her body against the wall.

Arthur stood beside her, pressing the gun to his chest, his eyes fixed on the door.

The room became even quieter, but there was a palpable tension in the air, a restless, expanding energy that made it hard to breathe. The dripping sound from the bathroom continued, the beats of their hearts quickening, blood rushing, pressing on their hearts as if ready to explode.

Suddenly, the door was cracked open, and the barrel of a black gun slid through, like a black mamba snake lifting its head in search of prey.

As the door slowly opened, half of a hand holding the gun appeared.

Arthur slightly bent his body and suddenly yanked open the door, grabbing the wrist of the intruder and twisting it down. He then slammed the door forcefully back, and the solid wooden door hit the intruder’s face with a loud thud. Tang Mi heard a muffled shout of pain, but Arthur didn’t let go. Instead, he yanked the trapped arm inward and raised his knee to strike the intruder’s abdomen. The man bent over in pain, and his gun flew out of his hand, but he also tried to grab Arthur’s waist to force him against the opposite wall.

Arthur pressed his arm against the man’s shoulder and let himself fall backward, using the momentum to quickly raise his gun and fire at another person ahead. “Bang, bang!” The shots rang out, and the person outside collapsed, hit by bullets, while the one aiming at Arthur missed, the bullet hitting the doorframe.

Just as Arthur was pushed into the wall, he swung the gun’s butt toward the person holding him, striking the man on the temple. The blow caused the man’s head to tilt to the right, and his body went limp.

Arthur kicked the lifeless body off him as though pushing aside a dead dog. The entire sequence took only a few seconds, with swift, decisive moves, no wasted actions, like a precise killing machine.

Tang Mi watched in horror, unable to react before a loud crash came from the direction of the window. A man dressed in dark clothes swung in through the window on a rope and, using the force of his swing, kicked both of his legs towards Arthur’s face. Arthur leaned back just in time, and the man’s thick boots barely grazed his forehead. Arthur shifted his body slightly, grabbing the man’s ankle with his left hand and, as he stood up, raised his right hand to aim at the man’s knee.

The man was clearly more agile than the two dead ones, spinning in midair and kicking at Arthur with his other leg. Arthur couldn’t avoid the kick in time, and it struck his cheek. The gun flew from his hand, and his body slammed into the nightstand before crashing to the floor. The lamp, phone, and other objects tumbled down onto him, and blood dripped from the corner of his mouth.

Tang Mi struggled to contain her urge to scream but couldn’t help but move toward him.

“Don’t come over!” Arthur saw her movement out of the corner of his eye and shouted urgently. The man who had kicked him now lunged at Arthur, pressing his legs onto Arthur’s chest and pulling out a dagger to strike at his carotid artery. Arthur gripped the man’s wrist with one hand and choked his throat with the other. His strong fingers, like iron claws, made the man’s face flush and his veins bulge on his neck.

Taking advantage of the slight reduction in the man’s pressure, Arthur’s waist suddenly exerted force, flipping the man onto the floor. He pressed half of his body onto the man’s arm holding the knife, then grabbed a lamp from the floor and smashed it over the man’s head.

The man’s face was covered in blood, his pupils starting to dilate. But before he could catch his breath, Arthur grabbed his collar, lifted him, and slammed him against the wall, landing blow after blow on his vital spots.

“Who are you working for?” Arthur growled as he pinned the man against the wall, his handsome face twisted with blood and murderous intent.

The man gasped, his face full of pain, but he didn’t make a sound, his teeth clenched tight.

“Not talking, huh? You have some backbone,” Arthur said with a smile, patting the man’s shoulder with apparent enjoyment. But the next moment, his fingers snatched up the fallen knife and drove it toward the man’s eyes.

The man quickly closed his eyes in fear, and when he felt the sharp edge of the blade press against his eyelid, he trembled and shouted, “Country A!” The knife stopped, but didn’t leave. It continued to press against his fragile eyelid.

This slow torment was more terrifying than a bullet to the head. Although losing his eyesight wouldn’t kill him, for a killer, it was nearly the same as death.

“How many of you are there?” Arthur pushed the knife slightly further, and a streak of crimson blood trickled down the man’s eyelid.

“Ten! Ten people!”

“Where are the others?”

“Four at the road entrance, three at the dock. If we fail, they’ll split into two teams to intercept you! Please, don’t kill me!”