The sun's first rays pierced through the haze of Shanghai's skyline, turning the harbor waters into a sheet of molten gold. The air was brisk with salt and oil, carrying the faint screech of gulls and the distant churn of engines from the Federation docks. The morning was loud, alive, and filled with movement—but for Scarletwing, this was more than the start of a new day. It was the beginning of something that could no longer be hidden in shadows.
From the dockside warehouse where Jin Shuyin's crew had worked tirelessly through the night, the convoy rolled out in steady formation. Three heavy trucks, their cargo bays stacked with freshly loaded crates, engines rumbling like the growls of beasts waiting to be unleashed. They didn't bear the obvious markings of Federation equipment, nor the logos of any shipping guild. Instead, they carried thin coats of paint, spray-on decals, and false registration plates—camouflage crafted by Shuyin's meticulous hands.
Leading the convoy was a sleek matte-black armored truck, the kind one could only acquire through channels far removed from legal commerce. Behind its tinted windshield sat Lan Yuheng in the passenger seat, his calm eyes scanning the streets, every sense sharpened. Zhuang Niao handled the wheel, hunched forward with a predator's patience. His hands, scarred and calloused from a soldier's life, tightened around the controls each time the road curved toward the civilian districts.
In the rear compartment of the lead truck sat Commander Hai Ying, tall and broad as an iron pillar, his presence as commanding as the steel plating around him. Next to him, Bai Ying—the sharp-eyed woman who had already earned the respect of Scarletwing's recruits—checked her rifle, the quiet rhythm of metallic clicks punctuating the silence. Her expression was hard, but her eyes gleamed with the fire of someone eager for the test ahead.
Behind the lead vehicle came two more armored transports, carrying Scarletwing's first squads of combat veterans. These weren't ragtag recruits but hardened men and women who had fought in a dozen unmarked wars for causes they no longer remembered. Some bore scars across their faces, others tattoos faded from years of blood and sweat. Their laughter was low, coarse, but their discipline was unshakable. They had been given new armor and weapons by KORA's forges inside the Voidrunner, and now, for the first time, they rode not as mercenaries-for-hire but under a banner of their own.
Tagging along in a modified hover sedan that hummed faintly at their flank was Zhang Wei. He leaned lazily against his seat, smirking as if all this was just another business deal. Yet his eyes never stopped darting from alley to rooftop, reading the undercurrents of the city like a gambler scanning a rigged table.
"Impressive parade you've got here," Zhang Wei drawled over the convoy's comms. "You should've seen the looks at the docks when these beasts rolled out. Hovertrucks in the hands of freelancers? You might as well have painted a target on your backs."
Lan Yuheng didn't flinch. His voice was cool, deliberate.
"That's exactly what we want. Let them look. Let them whisper. Scarletwing isn't here to crawl in shadows anymore."
Zhang Wei chuckled, half amused, half wary.
"Careful what you wish for. Shanghai streets have long memories. A move like this? Every guild worth their coin purse will hear of it by noon."
The convoy rumbled from the docklands toward the slums, winding through arteries of Shanghai's civilian districts. Early morning crowds had already begun to fill the streets—laborers heading to factories, vendors rolling up stalls, awakeners in mismatched uniforms trudging toward contract offices. Heads turned as the armored trucks rolled past. Some eyes were wide with awe; others narrowed with suspicion. In a city where Federation patrols were the only ones to flaunt hovertech, Scarletwing's convoy was like a wolf pack marching boldly through a flock of sheep.
Everywhere the convoy passed, eyes followed. Some wide with awe, others narrowed with suspicion.
Zhuang Niao muttered as he steered past a congested intersection.
"Eyes on us from every corner. Feels like the whole city's watching us. Zhang Wei wasn't exaggerating."
Hai Ying, watching through the slit windows, grunted.
"Let them look. The weak see protection, the predators see challenge. Either way, our name spreads."
Bai Ying adjusted her sidearm holster.
"Challenge brings bullets. Don't forget that."
She was right. A moment later, in the industrial quarter, a garbage truck suddenly swerved sideways, blocking half the road ahead. Its driver leapt out, feigning panic, and bolted into an alley.
Lan Yuheng nodded slightly, his mind already mapping routes, possible choke points, the countless places an ambush could bloom in a city like this. Scarletwing was stepping into the open now, and that meant their enemies wouldn't stay idle.
Up on the rooftops, rival eyes indeed watched. Scouts from The Iron Fangs, a mid-tier mercenary guild long used to dominating Shanghai's black markets, tracked the convoy's every move. Their leader, Wu Kang—a scar-faced brute with a reputation for tearing apart competitors before they could root themselves—was already moving his pieces into place.
"They're bold, I'll give them that," Wu Kang growled to his lieutenants as he surveyed the convoy through binoculars. "But bold doesn't mean smart. Hovertrucks, armored men, strutting through the city like they own it? They've brought their necks to us on a silver platter."
His lieutenants chuckled darkly.
"What do you want done, boss?"
"Bleed them," Wu Kang said. "Hit them hard, in the open. Let Shanghai see Scarletwing fall before it ever rises."
The convoy had just entered a stretch of road skirting the edge of the industrial district when the first sign came. A garbage truck ahead lurched sideways, blocking half the street. Its driver fled in a staged panic, vanishing into an alley. Zhuang Niao swore under his breath, braking the lead vehicle just in time.
"Obstruction ahead," he barked.
Almost immediately, movement rippled from both sides of the street. Storefront shutters clattered down, doors locked shut.
Zhuang Niao cursed, slamming the brakes.
"Obstruction. Dead stop."
The street went unnaturally still. Shop shutters clattered down. Civilians scattered into doorways. From alleys and rooftops, shadows emerged—dozens of armed men in battered armor, their insignias crudely daubed in black and red: The Iron Fangs, one of Shanghai's fiercest mid-tier guilds.
"Contact!" Hai Ying roared, already rising with weapon in hand. He bellowed, already slamming the truck's side door open. He rolled out into cover, heavy rifle barking thunder. Each round he fired punched through brick, scattering Iron Fang shooters from their perches.
Gunfire cracked a heartbeat later. Bullets slammed against the lead truck's armor, sparks flying, the air filled with the chaos of ambush. Civilians screamed, scattering like frightened birds as the street erupted into a warzone.
Lan Yuheng's voice was calm even amidst the storm.
"Scarletwing, deploy. Break the fangs of these dogs."
The armored transports roared open, Scarletwing veterans spilling into the street with practiced precision. Shields rose, rifles barked, and a disciplined line of fire pushed back against the ambushers. Unlike the ragged, desperate volleys of the Iron Fangs, Scarletwing's response was coordinated, lethal.
Bai Ying led her squad forward, her commands sharp as a whip crack.
"Squad One—left flank suppression!" Bai Ying shouted, leading her team into cover behind a collapsed stall. "Pin them down, move, move!"
"Squad Two—on me!" Hai Ying thundered, advancing up the center with brute force, heavy rounds tearing through an abandoned truck and shredding the mercs cowering behind it.
Zhang Wei, crouched behind his sedan, whistled low.
"Well… guess I didn't misjudge your people. These aren't mercs—they're soldiers. Discipline like that? The whole city's going to hear."
The Iron Fangs weren't amateurs. Their shooters had taken the rooftops, firing down angles that cut into Scarletwing's cover.
"Rooftop fire—southeast!" Bai Ying snapped.
Scarletwing's second squad reacted instantly. Two veterans sprinted across the street under suppressive fire, their shields raised. One slammed a breaching charge against a side door. The blast cracked concrete, and they stormed the stairwell inside.
Up above, rooftop shooters barked orders—until Scarletwing burst through like a storm. The veterans fought hand-to-hand, blades clashing, rifles roaring at close range. Moments later, Iron Fang shooters toppled over the edges of the roof, their weapons clattering to the street below.
Scarletwing flags—crimson wing insignias hastily painted on combat cloaks—fluttered briefly in the wind as their men cleared the heights.
For twenty-seven brutal minutes, the street was chaos. Hovertrucks shielded the crates while Scarletwing fought tooth and nail to push their convoy free. Civilians watched from rooftops and alleys, eyes wide as the unknown guild stood firm against the infamous Iron Fangs.
Lan Yuheng moved like a commander born for fire. His orders were few but decisive—shift formations, redirect covering fire, time the countercharges. Each adjustment broke another wave of the ambush.
Down on the street, Wu Kang himself emerged—the scarred brute of the Iron Fangs, hefting a power-axe that crackled with faint energy arcs. He roared as he stormed forward, scattering his own men to make room.
Hai Ying met him head-on.
The collision was titanic—Hai Ying's reinforced shield slammed into Wu Kang's axe, sparks and shockwaves rippling down the street. They grappled like beasts, each strike echoing like a hammer on steel. Civilians peeking from alleys gasped, whispers already starting.
"That's… Scarletwing. They're fighting Iron Fangs head-on."
"Who are these people? How can they stand against Wu Kang?"
The duel raged, Wu Kang swinging his axe in brutal arcs, Hai Ying absorbing the blows and countering with bone-shattering strikes from his rifle butt. Finally, with a roar, Hai Ying drove his shoulder forward, slamming Wu Kang into a wall so hard brick dust exploded outward. Wu Kang spat blood, staggered, and when he saw his lines crumbling, he cursed and signaled retreat.
The Iron Fangs broke, scattering back into alleys with their dead and wounded. Scarletwing held the street.
As the Iron Fangs broke, scattering back into alleys with their wounded, civilians poured back into the street. Vendors whispered to each other, workers pulled out old comms to record the sight of Scarletwing's armored convoy pulling through the smoke.
"Did you see them? They didn't break."
"They fought like soldiers. Not mercs."
"Scarletwing, they called themselves. Scarletwing."
By midday, the name would ripple through Shanghai's underworld like a storm.
Engines roared as Scarletwing regrouped, trucks forming up once more. The crates were intact, the veterans bloodied but unbowed.
Inside the lead truck, Bai Ying wiped blood from her cheek, eyes blazing.
"They thought we'd break. They were wrong."
Hai Ying chuckled, bruised but standing tall.
"Good first fight. The banner's stained red already."
Lan Yuheng looked out the window at the ruined street, his voice quiet but resolute.
"This was only the beginning."
Zhang Wei pulled up alongside in his sedan, smirking even as smoke still trailed from the wreckage.
"Congratulations. You've just declared open war. Every guild in Shanghai will be talking about Scarletwing before nightfall. And none of them will ignore you now."
Lan Yuheng met his gaze, calm as stone.
"We don't want them to ignore us."
The convoy rolled on, heading toward the slums with the sun rising higher, smoke and whispers trailing behind them. For Scarletwing's veterans, there was no fear—only pride. For the first time in years, they fought not for coin or strangers' wars, but under their own banner.
Scarletwing had risen.
And Shanghai had heard its roar.