The air in Blackstone's market grew thick, charged with a tension that pressed against every chest.
Liam stood in the center of the street, Silverleaf loosely in hand, its edge faintly shimmering in the sunlight.
He looked as if he had simply strolled into the square by accident. But around him, the crowd had already scattered, retreating into alleys and behind shuttered stalls.
And in front of him stood Fang Cheng, the one called Blackstone's Iron Spear, commander of the City Lord's elite guard. The armored men flanking him were no ordinary guards and their presence alone had turned the marketplace into a suffocating cage.
But before Fang Cheng gave the order, another presence cut through the air.
From the far side of the street, a new squad arrived, moving in tight formation. Their attire was markedly different — darker robes reinforced with fine mail, embroidered with the mark of a roaring serpent. At their head walked a man with eyes filled with raging hatred.
