She listened quietly to the approaching footsteps.
It was the gunmen closing in.
From the shadows, Shen Yi watched the figure turn the corner, a gun in hand, footsteps cautious yet steady, his gaze quickly sweeping over the shadows along both sides of the corridor.
She pressed herself back against the wall, her fingers tightening briefly around the handle of her dagger.
The whole cabin had been stirred into chaos because of her alone.
Gunfire rang out continuously from various directions.
Some were distant, some near, all concentrated in several areas centered around her.
Three banquet halls were filled with gunmen. People were also moving back and forth in the corridors and stairwells. The numbers were greater than she had anticipated.
Shen Yi estimated at least a hundred.
She ran a quick calculation in her mind: a direct confrontation was impossible—she had to use the terrain to take them down one by one.
The girl slipped out from the shadows, raised her hand, and fired a shot into the distance first.
The bullet struck a metal pipe, producing a sharp ricochet that drew the attention of the gunmen nearby.
As expected, they turned their heads toward the sound of the gunshot.
In that instant they turned, Shen Yi had already changed direction and appeared behind two of them.
The dagger swept through her hand, and with two faint, subtle thuds, blood spurted from both of their necks almost simultaneously.
They didn’t even have time to turn around before their bodies went limp.
But the gunfire was, without a doubt, a signal.
She knew she had been exposed.
By now, the entire cabin knew an assassin had entered.
Voices crackled through the gunmen’s communication channels, reports coming in from all directions, forces converging toward her.
Shen Yi had to pick up the pace.
...
Song Guanyan had been moving along the route, past the banquet halls, where he saw quite a few bodies.
The brutality of the scene made his heart pound wildly.
Where the hell was Shen Yi?
He bent down and retrieved a gun that still had bullets from beside one of the bodies—opened the magazine to check—six rounds left.
He raised the gun and fired two shots.
The bullets flew toward the end of the corridor, striking the edge of the ceiling, the ricochet echoing harshly through the empty hallway.
"There's movement over there."
This tactic successfully diverted a portion of the gunmen's attention.
Several men who had been encircling in a certain direction stopped, turned toward Song Guanyan, and jogged over, guns raised.
When they arrived, they found that it wasn’t the assassin they were looking for, but a familiar-looking businessman.
"Song Guanyan?"
Compared to other old-money families and heirs who rarely appeared on financial news, this richest man’s face was unforgettable.
His photos were plastered on the covers of various business magazines and illustrations for financial reports.
Every gunman present recognized him.
Shen Yi, meanwhile, was wondering who was firing randomly, diverting some of the pressure off her.
She crouched behind a half-open door, listening to the direction of the distant gunfire, confirming it wasn’t aimed at her before letting out a slight sigh of relief.
Whoever it was, at least they’d bought her a few seconds to catch her breath.
...
Song Guanyan raised his hands apologetically, lowering the gun under the wary gazes of the group.
"I accidentally discharged it just now—fired two shots. This gun is too slippery."
The gunmen looked at him and exchanged a glance.
"Can’t be bothered wasting time on you."
They were familiar with Song Guanyan.
Someone shoved his shoulder, telling him to stand against the wall.
The whole group was feeling anxious and uneasy.
That assassin moved like a ghost.
More than a dozen of their comrades had already disappeared, and even the few bodies they found were hardly intact.
Most of them were starting to wonder if this job wasn’t a job, but suicide.
"Are you looking for someone?" Song Guanyan feigned ignorance.
They weren’t too hostile toward him and answered casually, "An assassin."
An assassin...
Song Guanyan’s eyelids twitched.
The strange word passed right by his ear.
His friendly, curious expression almost couldn’t hold.
How could Shen Yi be an assassin?
He would rather believe she had offended someone than believe she was a killer.
That kind of word couldn’t possibly be associated with her.
She was only fifteen.
...
Shen Yi’s luck was truly terrible.
She was cornered at the stairwell while trying to escape.
She had just come down one level when she ran straight into three gunmen stationed there.
All three guns were raised, aimed at her.
Footsteps were approaching from behind, too.
Shen Yi stood still, not moving.
"Drop the gun," the leader shouted at her.
Shen Yi thought to herself.
She should just drop it because he said so? Dream on.
She took half a step back and slipped sideways into the blind spot behind the stair railing.
Bullets grazed past her shoulder, striking the wall.
Shen Yi raised her hand and fired upward, hitting the light fixture on the stair landing above. The light went out, plunging half the stairwell into darkness.
Gunfire continued without pause. Song Guanyan, who had followed the commotion, watched the scene with a pounding heart.
From his angle, he could see people falling one after another near the stairwell.
What had this kid done to get an entire armed force cornering her alone?
Song Guanyan’s mind flashed back to the photo of Shen Yi’s face—bright and lively.
It was an immense disconnect from the way she was now, living on the edge of a knife.
If Shen Yi couldn’t take out these people in a short time, the numbers would only keep growing as time passed.
Once that happened, escape would truly be impossible.
Song Guanyan leaned against the wall, watching the gunmen run past him, his mind racing.
He observed for a moment, and when no one noticed his small movements, he suddenly struck, locking the neck of a gunman passing by him, tightening his arm, snatching the gun.
He spun around and pressed it against the head of the squad leader.
"Drop your weapons." Song Guanyan shouted.
His voice was too weak to carry much threat over the gunfire.
Song Guanyan didn’t have much experience dealing with armed professional gunmen.
He was a businessman, not a soldier. Naturally, he wouldn’t know that not all hostages freeze obediently when a gun is pressed to their head, like in the movies.
The gunman in Song Guanyan’s grip reacted quickly, driving an elbow backward, smashing it into his side.
Song Guanyan’s grip loosened for a moment.
The leader he had aimed at reacted even faster—ducking and spinning sideways as Song Guanyan’s hand slipped, then kicking him to the ground with a single motion.
"You dare threaten me?" The leader’s lips curled coldly as he pressed the gun barrel to Song Guanyan’s forehead.
Song Guanyan lay on the ground, his chest heaving violently, staring at the dark muzzle less than thirty centimeters from his eyes.
His heart pounded like a drum as he fixed his gaze on Shen Yi’s direction.
That commotion, however, bought Shen Yi a small chance to breathe.
The gunmen’s attention was briefly scattered by the disturbance.
A few of them turned to look toward Song Guanyan, frowning and muttering, "What’s going on?"
In those few seconds of distraction, Shen Yi slipped out from the blind spot by the stairs and took down the men in front of her in rapid succession.
This group was nothing compared to Bai Que alone.
A war of attrition was also exhausting. Her shoulders and back ached, and the fingertips gripping the dagger tingled faintly.
Shen Yi had no choice but to end it quickly.
In the dim visibility, she switched back and forth between cold steel and firearms.
First, she used the gun to suppress fire from a distance, then she switched to the dagger to clear out those closing in.
It was draining.
She never expected Song Guanyan would actually be of some use.
After killing the last gunman who had flanked her from the side, Shen Yi caught a glimpse of the figure lying on the ground about ten meters away out of the corner of her eye.
He was surrounded by several gunmen, barrels pressed to his forehead, his face smudged with dirt, his chest heaving violently.
Song Guanyan had created those few seconds of chaos for her earlier.
And Shen Yi could have completely ignored him.
She told herself that he had stumbled into this himself— if he died, it would serve him right.
After hesitating for no more than two seconds, she still fired a shot.
