When the attackers burst in, they unleashed a sweeping barrage, the submachine guns powerful with strong recoil, their wide spray and deadly force making it clear—this was no ordinary assault.
As the door was kicked open, Arabella swiftly kicked the bed board aside.
The wooden board above, and Edmund beneath.
He was still blindfolded, half-naked, trapped beneath the wooden board.
Luckily, he was safe for the moment.
He tried to struggle against the handcuffs, but it was futile. All he could do was pant heavily, in a helpless, sacrificial state.
The sound of gunfire echoed around him, and even though he couldn't see, he could still sense the intensity of the battle.
Sparks flew, and occasionally, stray bullets ricocheted down, causing Edmund to instinctively shrink his head and burrow deeper into the wooden boards.
He remembered the bold declarations he'd made before going undercover: "Although chop off my head, a scar as big as a bowl—what's there to fear?"
But the reality of it was far more exhilarating.
The enemy sprayed fire wildly, but Arabella was precise, picking them off with single shots.
Her movements were as fast as lightning—sharp and swift, dodging bullets with the speed of a ghost, making it impossible to defend against.
She killed with a lazy smile, swiftly dispatching a few heavily armed gunmen, then pulled back just as quickly.
She left the remaining enemies to Raven to deal with.
Arabella planted her foot on the ground and with a swift motion, slid under the wooden board.
"Are you afraid?" she whispered, her body pressed against Edmund's chest as she nibbled at his ear.
Edmund instinctively shrank his neck; he was naturally ticklish, and his earlobes were especially sensitive.
He wasn't afraid, of course; as an elite of the police force, he still had the courage to face this moment.
"You might not be afraid, but you still have to pretend to be. A little dancer like him has never faced such a storm."
"Afraid. Master Unknown, could you help me unlock these handcuffs?" He pretended to shiver as he raised his wrists, the cuffs so tight that no matter how hard he tried, they wouldn't budge.
"Handcuffs?"
Arabella reached out, and the chain snapped instantly at her touch.
With a loosened grip, Edmund quickly tore off the blindfold.
The room was dimly lit, and beneath the wooden boards, the face hovering in front was blurry, but the smile on it was unmistakable, its curve resembling a crescent moon.
To still smile in the midst of gunfire and chaos, Edmund instinctively knew this woman was terrifying.
Like the judgment of the fate, the distant poetry of the universe.
A casual flick of dust, like a reversed trick, seeming gentle and loving but in reality cruel by nature.
While they spoke, Raven had already swept through, taking care of the few remaining survivors with a final shot to ensure nothing was left.
"Come out, my little treat." Arabella lifted the bed board with one hand, her expression soft like an ordinary girl, making it easy to fall into her trap if one wasn't careful.
Edmund also put on a sweet and innocent look. He stood up, but his hand gripped Arabella's arm tightly, his voice trembling as he spoke, "How could there be so many people coming to kill you?"
Yet his gaze was pure, the depths of his eyes so clear that they reflected Arabella's entire figure.
Raven stood behind him, his gaze cold and swift, moving so fast it was nearly imperceptible.
Dorian arrived hurriedly with his subordinates, and as soon as they stepped inside, the sight of the bloodied corpses and splattered blood on the walls shocked them.
On one hand, Arabella's identity was prestigious, and as the person recommended by Young Master Ackerley, there could be no mistakes.
On the other hand, there were a group of armed thugs with heavy weapons. Arabella and Raven, just the two of them, had quickly dealt with the intruders, showing their formidable strength.
"Boss Wycliffe, it seems I won't have time to enjoy the little treat you sent." Arabella smiled, as if the corpses scattered around were mere decorations.
Raven silently retreated to the corner, his cold eyes and face showing that none of this concerned him.
"Not at all, once Master Unknown triumphs, I'll send someone to pack him all up for you."
Pack him up?
They really don't treat him like people.
Arabella, having leaked her whereabouts, would naturally not sit idly by and wait for her fate.
Dorian understood the value of speed in warfare, and although the arms wouldn't have been ready until tomorrow, he made sure they were prepared for Arabella overnight.
Edmund was left behind, watching the armored vehicle roll away, leaving a trail of dust in its wake.
Dorian looked at Edmund with a cold smile, hooking a finger under his chin and lifting his face, "Don't worry, Master Unknown is still thinking about you."
"Fxxck you."
Edmund cursed silently in his heart.
But when he lifted his head, his gaze was pure, his tone innocent, his eyes shining brightly, "Really?"
"Alright, go wash up and get ready. I'll have someone take you there." Dorian treated him like just host who sold his body. The finger that had lifted his chin now wiped disdainfully over Edmund's body before he turned and walked away.
Edmund remained silent, lowering his head, furrowing his brow, hiding all his emotions deep inside.
By the time Arabella arrived, her base in Rus had not yet been overrun, and she was holding her ground.
Arabella was tough, and her subordinates were willing to risk their lives for her.
Everyone fought with blood on their blades, knowing that if they didn't risk their lives, death was inevitable.
The armed forces had received word early, knowing that Arabella was coming, and had already arranged their troops in a defensive formation.
But Arabella never fought conventional battles.
While the enemy surrounded her, she pierced right through their ranks like a sharp dagger.
Arabella valued her life greatly, for everything she had today was earned through a bloody struggle, crawling out from a heap of corpses, and she would never die easily.
Amidst the gunfire, she rode like the wind, leaving her enemies far behind.
Raven stood by her side, a heavy machine gun in hand, blood coursing through his veins as he fought, with an unspoken thirst for violence buried deep in his brow.
He felt that only on the battlefield would Arabella be by his side, warming his icy heart.
Arabella had studied the origins of the enemy forces long ago. Their leader, was once a local bandit who later joined the former government and became part of the regular army. However, with the chaos in Rus, the leader rebelled once he gained soldiers and weapons.
Though he had soldiers and weapons, the leader lacked territory, and in his arrogance, he set his sights on Arabella, thinking he could easily take control of the city without a master.
As the bloodshed surged, Arabella remained nonchalant, lifting her gun, already aiming at her target.
"Master Unknown—They have mortars."
Though the enemy had already set up their mortars, Raven remained calm, merely stating the fact.
He was calm, and Arabella was even more indifferent, stifling a small yawn before effortlessly pulling the trigger.
After the shot, Arabella lowered her gun and waved her hand behind her, softly murmuring, "Charge."
Her slender figure seemed fragile, swaying softly in the smoke of battle.
But the group of silent, tall, and cold-blooded elite soldiers behind her followed the bloody poppy with unwavering devotion.
As they charged forward, the enemy was already in chaos. Some shouted that the leader had been sniped, while others called for surrender.
At that moment, the base opened its doors, and the battle was swiftly concluded, collecting a fresh batch of heads.
After the battlefield was cleaned up, only about ten of the leader's most capable men remained.
They were bound and kneeling, knowing their fate was sealed.
A high platform was set up atop the city wall, where Arabella sat drinking.
Next to the bottle, a small bucket of ice cubes was placed. The heat of the Rus weather left Arabella parched after the battle.
At this moment, Edmund was sent by the Dorian men. One of Arabella's subordinates, who had met Edmund, instructed him to bring him into the city to see Arabella.
As they reached the foot of the city wall, Edmund heard Raven's emotionless voice ask, "Master Unknown, how should we handle these men?"
Looking up, he saw the bodies of many hanging outside the city wall.
"Cut their throats." Arabella's voice was soft as she gave the command, then finished her drink with a satisfied sigh.
Arabella didn't enjoy bloodshed; she preferred simple, decisive kills and despised torturing her victims.
But this time—she intended to make a threat of others.
Raven received the order and waved, signaling his subordinates to act.
The ten or so men were lined up, their throats slit by sharp knives, and the blood sprayed like a mist, staining the city wall.
Edmund had almost reached the top of the city wall, but he froze in place, unable to move any further.
People are weak, powerless, despicable, and fragile.
They neither despise the forces of darkness nor love the light and truth—they merely try to expel them.
At that moment, Edmund prayed to the fate, wishing to reverse time.
He wished he could forget that woman!
He thought, perhaps if he had never met her, he might still have some resistance to the darkness.
