The Helmsman was on the verge of madness.
As the fairest and most handsome Helmsman in Crystalpeak City's history, he simply couldn't stomach being manipulated and humiliated by Fyren over and over again!
He had to fight back!
He'd rounded up all his subordinates—more than a hundred people in total!
It was time to go all in!
Standing before the assembled killers, he delivered a pre-battle speech.
"Today! Our target! Is him!"
He flicked on the large screen behind him. On it flashed a college-era photo: Fyren with his arm around Cora.
"Fyren! This man is crafty and deceitful. He has repeatedly… infuriated me—your Helmsman! Our mission today is to track him down, capture him, torture him, and make him suffer beyond anything he's ever known!"
The Helmsman ground his teeth, his voice sharp with rage. "Make him hand over the money—and we'll use it to cover our expenses!"
One of the Black-Cloaked Guards raised a hand, glancing around cautiously. "Helmsman, we are the Black-Cloaked Guards—our business is assassination. Gathering all of us here like this… doesn't that go against our rules?"
"Shut up!" the Helmsman snapped. "At a time like this, who cares about those damn rules? Look at what I've been reduced to! If I hold back any longer, I'll—" He cut himself off, jaw tight.
Another Black-Cloaked Guard lifted his hand. "Helmsman, per our division's protocols, a bold operation like this should fall to the Red Guards, not us."
"The Red Guards… they're all on business trips!" the Helmsman lied, his voice faltering for a split second. "Not a single one's here!"
"Then the White-Dressed Defenders should step in as backups!" someone else called out.
"Shut up! You talk too much!" The Helmsman's patience snapped. "Shut your mouths and do as I say!"
The White-Robed Number One stepped forward, tone calm. "Helmsman, to kill Fyren, sending a single team would be enough. Bringing everyone here… isn't this overcomplicating things?"
"Do you think I haven't sent people before?" The Helmsman's forehead broke out in a sweat. "That's not… that's not the point."
He couldn't tell them the truth: that the Red Guards' Four Kings had all betrayed him; that he'd handed 15 billion to Fyren to spend on dates; that the young lord had been tortured by Fyren to the brink of death…
None of it could be said.
"Enough! The order's mine to give—follow me!"
"Helmsman!" a voice shouted from the crowd. "When are we getting our salaries?"
The Helmsman stamped his foot in frustration. "Is that all you care about? Salaries? Bring Fyren back to me today, and I'll pay you tomorrow! Is that clear?!"
"Oh! Payday's coming!" The crowd murmured, suddenly animated.
The Helmsman felt a surge of bitterness.
These money-grubbers had no sense of loyalty or dedication at all!
Managing subordinates like this was a nightmare.
"But!" He raised his voice, cutting through the chatter. "Here's the catch: according to Barry's report, Fyren's side has serious firepower. There are many of them—even some women with extremely strong abilities. Everyone must stay alert!"
"Another thing! Fyren is strange—extremely strange! I order you: once you meet him or his people, do NOT speak to them. Not a single word. Just get to work! Take down everyone in your way, and bring Fyren back to me!"
"I promise you!" His voice boomed, trying to rally them. "Capture Fyren alive, and tomorrow, every single one of you gets at least one million dollars! Plus months of back pay and bonuses—all of it will be handed out!"
"Move out!" ...
Sherry, bored out of her mind, decided to climb to the roof of Fyren's villa to watch the moon.
She stared up at it, lost in thought, and before she knew it, her eyes drifted shut. She'd fallen asleep right there on the rooftop.
A jeep roared to a stop nearby, kicking up a cloud of dust.
Flora, dressed in a nightgown, swung open the trunk. She slung a bow over her back, then hung a quiver of arrows on each hip. Tying a headscarf snugly around her hair, her eyes blazed with steely resolve.
"Fyren! I don't care what kind of twisted villain you are to my young lord—today, I'm gonna teach you a lesson!"
Fyren's villa was quiet, almost empty. The cleaners who came to tidy up were hourly workers; they'd finished their shifts hours ago and left without lingering. At this late hour, the only soul left was Sherry—Fyren had asked her to guard the place—and she was fast asleep.
Flora dropped into a low crouch, darting swiftly into the villa's grounds before freezing suddenly in the yard. With a graceful flip, she landed beside the mechanical cover, her fingers moving deftly to disable the villa's security alarm. A confident smile tugged at her lips as she melted back into the shadows, creeping forward.
She pushed into the villa, only to find it still empty.
On the roof, Sherry—who'd been dozing off—jolted awake.
Someone's here!
Hmph! Come on then! If I don't take you down today, you must be really something!
Sherry slowly drew her sword, activating her light-footed flight skill. She flipped over the roof's edge and slipped into the villa.
Inside, Flora spun in a slow circle, scratching her head in confusion.
This is Fyren's villa—I didn't get the address wrong! Sabrina said this was it! She even told me Fyren comes back every single day!
Meanwhile, the Helmsman took the lead, guiding over a hundred of his men as they quietly surrounded the villa from all sides.
Flora's senses were sharp. Her eyes narrowed, and she bounded to a window in one fluid move. Gently pulling aside the curtain, she froze—outside, a dark, swarming mass of people was closing in.
Flora ground her teeth. So Fyren was as crafty as they said! I walked right into a trap!
"Humph—you think a bunch of goons like you can corner me, Flora? Today, I'll show you why I'm the nation's top ADC!"
She drew her bow, aiming at the figure that looked the most imposing in the crowd. With a sharp swish, the arrow flew.
This was her strategy: the first shot always went for the strongest enemy, cutting down their combat power right off the bat.
The Helmsman was almost within reach of the villa, a grin spreading across his face.
Catch Fyren, and all my problems disappear! Once I have him, money won't be an issue—and with money, these men will keep working for me. Subdue Fyren, and I'll take back control of Crystalpeak City. I'll earn the young lord's respect… maybe even use some of that money to curry favor with him!
When the distance felt right, the Helmsman turned to his men, his voice booming. "Everyone—this is our chance to make a name for ourselves! Follow me, and—"
Puff!
A searing pain shot through the Helmsman's lower body. His anus clenched, and the agony was so intense his vision went black, his mind going blank.
"Damn it!" he gasped.
"Helmsman! There's an arrow in your ass!" someone shouted.
"Who the hell dares attack our Helmsman's weak spot? I'll kill you!"
"Brothers! They've spotted us! Charge in—let's make 'em answer for shooting the Helmsman's ass!"
Flora smirked softly. "A bunch of fools."
She drew her bow again, loosing arrow after arrow. One by one, dark figures crumpled to the ground.
The remaining men in black immediately ducked for cover, finally realizing something was terribly wrong.
Whoever was shooting at them was weird—their aim was too precise! One arrow per person, no misses, no mistakes!
Who in their right mind would charge forward now?
"Black-Cloaked Guards! What do we do?!"
"Scatter! Move in disarray—don't bunch up!"
Flora narrowed her eyes.
Her eyes were unlike ordinary people's—her night vision was sharper than her daytime sight, and her pupils shifted shape, a hint of enchantment tangled with something eerie. At that moment, her pupils glowed with an uncanny light, and from her fingertips, a faint, glossy white energy seeped out—like a handful of translucent powder, drifting upward before slowly fading away.
When her arrows left the bowstring, they hummed with strange energy. Their force was nothing like a normal person's; there was no slight weakening of momentum mid-flight. Instead, ten meters after being released, they suddenly accelerated, slicing through the air faster than the eye could track.
No one from the Crystalpeak City Branch had ever seen—or even heard of—such bizarre archery.
The worst part? In this pitch-black night, you couldn't even tell where the arrows were coming from. Even if you heard the swish of them cutting through air, you had no idea how to dodge. By the time the sound registered and you realized you needed to move, it was already too late.
Before the men could even rally, more than a dozen of them had fallen to the ground.
It was a brutal blow to their morale.
The Helmsman lay sprawled on the grass, gritting his teeth. "What's the situation up front?!"
"We've lost over a dozen men, Helmsman!" someone shouted back.
The Helmsman grabbed a handful of grass and crushed it in his fist. "Fyren! I'll tear you apart! All of you—charge together! See how many he can kill before we overrun him!"
"Helmsman, the enemy's just waiting to pick us off one by one," a voice urged. "Shouldn't we retreat first?"
"Retreat?! Are you out of your mind?!" the Helmsman roared. "You want your money, don't you? Whoever takes down that archer gets a five-million reward—mine to give!"
As soon as the words left his mouth, the entire group erupted in eager shouts. This branch was flat broke—five million was impossible to resist.
Flora noticed the shift: after her initial suppression, the enemy wasn't retreating. They were charging.
She sneered, lowering her body slightly before leaping upward. One hand clamped onto a ceiling beam; she flipped gracefully, landing in a crouch on the wood. Then, the air filled with the whizz of arrows as she unleashed her skills in a flurry.
Sherry, meanwhile, was confused. She'd thought only one intruder had snuck in—but when she glanced outside, all she saw was a dark, swarming crowd.
She'd been pent-up lately, frustrated and restless. And in that moment, she felt like she'd finally found an outlet.
Finally—she could cut loose! Come on!
Sherry had already changed into her night-raid clothes. She launched herself off the top floor, landing lightly in the yard.
Before any of the men could react—before she even had a chance to ask who they were—she struck, taking down one with a single blow.
In the dark of night, within the grounds of Fyren's sprawling villa, an ADC and a hunter had both snapped, unleashing chaos without restraint.
Neither side spoke.
They'd been given orders.
The Mighty Syndicate men fought in grim, silent unison—gritting their teeth, holding back any cries, because the Helmsman had forbidden any chatter.
Flora's face was set in a stern line, no interest in talking either. Sister Sabrina had warned her: every time she'd tried to talk to Fyren, she'd ended up being led astray. Silence was safer.
Sherry had no desire to talk, either.
She was a hunter—and hunters moved in silence. There was no way she'd march up to an enemy and say, "Excuse me, mind if I take this kill?"
And so, a silent yet brutally cruel battle unfolded, quiet as a shadow but sharp as a blade.
Sherry was unstoppable.
Sherry was almost godlike.
Sherry was super godlike.
Flora shifted between a few vantage points, and in the dark swarm of bodies, she spotted a familiar figure—darting, striking, hunting without mercy.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "You little troublemaker… I've been waiting for you."
Sherry, too, caught sight of a still figure on the ground. When she noticed the arrows sticking out of him, she grinned. Flora! Hey—nice work!
The Helmsman was at his wit's end.
"Helmsman, your ass is still bleeding!" one of his men yelled. "We can't keep this up!"
The Helmsman was seething, equal parts furious and desperate. "Damn it—why there?! They shot me in the ass on purpose! I'll—"
"Helmsman, let me get you out of here first!" his subordinate urged, grabbing his arm.
"Tell the others—if they catch that archer, they leave 'em for me!" the Helmsman snarled. "I'm gonna chop 'em into pieces!"
Just then, a dark figure darted past—sword glinting in the moonlight. Two men fell to the ground in unison, their cries cut short.
Sherry assumed the Helmsman was already dead and paid him no mind. She stepped on the arrow protruding from his ass, then leaped into the air like a swallow, vanishing into the night.
"Ugh—!" the Helmsman gasped, pain lancing through him.
Sherry was long gone, but the Helmsman was spent. The men around him lay dead; when he tried to move, he found he couldn't.
He was… nailed to the ground.
With a trembling hand, he fumbled for his walkie-talkie. "Send backup… now… I'm—they nailed me to the ground! Hurry!"
A static-laced voice crackled back: "Wait—you're already nailed to the ground? No need to say it twice. What do you mean by 'nailed'—"
"Shit! Just get over here, and you'll see!" the Helmsman roared, slamming a fist against the dirt.
At that moment, a large off-road vehicle came speeding toward them, swerving wildly in an S-pattern. It crashed through the white picket fence surrounding the yard and careened onto the lawn…
Whoever was driving was definitely not in their right mind.
Inside, Fyren gripped the steering wheel, rolling her eyes as she pressed Cora's head down. Her voice came out strained: "Cora, stop—don't do this. I'll—"
Cora lifted her head, cheeks flushed, and smiled sweetly. "Fyren, focus on driving!"
"But you can't—oh, for god's sake!"
The Helmsman had thought his bad luck couldn't get any worse. Then the off-road vehicle made a wild, unexpected turn—and charged straight for him.