The iron grate clattered against the stone floor of the sewer conduit.
Blood-Wind One pulled himself up through the square opening, his boots dripping foul black mud onto the scrubbed pine floorboards of the pantry. Behind him, the other five brothers scrambled out of the darkness like oversized spiders. Their shadow-cloaks rustled against sacks of dried rice and hanging bundles of mountain garlic.
“Clear,” Blood-Wind One hissed through his snarling iron wolf mask. “The main kitchen is through those swinging pine doors. Remember the plan. Daggers out, poison the water cisterns, snatch the CEO woman, and light the flour bags.”
Blood-Wind Two drew his curved dagger, the green venom on the blade glistening in the warm candlelight. “I smell fresh scallions and shrimp. These fools are feasting while their doom creeps behind them.”
“Quiet, idiot,” Blood-Wind Three muttered, checking the crimson fire-oil spheres in his belt. “We move on three. One, two—”
BANG!
Blood-Wind One kicked the double doors open with the full force of an Early Golden Core cultivator.
The heavy doors slammed against the wall, splintering the polished cedar frames. The six brothers charged into the main dining hall, their daggers raised high and their crimson eyes gleaming with bloodlust.
