"Wait!"
Feng Xueling's voice tore through the din of the rain-slicked alley.
The Mo family guards didn't pause — they moved like clockwork, forming a protective arc around her as they swept her farther from the chaos that still raged behind them.
"I said wait!"
She caught the wrist of the nearest guard and her fingers moved with surgical precision — two quick strikes to the acupoints below his shoulder and neck. The man froze mid-step, eyes wide, body locking like stone. The rest of the team halted instantly, weapons raised in confusion.
Xueling straightened, chest heaving, her eyes fierce beneath the dim streetlight. "We have to go back! He's still in there!"
The leader of the team — a grizzled veteran in tactical blacks — blinked at her, visibly at war between training and disbelief. "Ms. XL, our orders are clear," he said carefully. "Young Master Mo instructed us to ensure your safety first. He'll rendezvous once—"
"How will he rendezvous if he's dead?" she snapped. Her voice cut through the rain, cold and sharp. "You saw the firepower behind us. He stayed behind to hold the line alone—"
A younger guard shifted uneasily. "Ma'am, with respect… that's Mo Shenyu."
The name alone carried weight — enough that the rest of the team nodded reflexively. The man wasn't just a CEO; he was legend, a ghost story told in military barracks. The soldier who'd led black-ops rescues with one arm shattered and two men left alive. Ruthless. Unbreakable. THE DEVIL.
Compared to what he'd faced before, the Dragon Gate fallout was child's play.
That was Mo Shenyu? The Mo Shenyu whom she had shared teasing, warm messages with?
The realization made it even more difficult for Xueling to accept accept the guard's logic. It pounded in her chest, wild and insistent. The image of him standing against the gunfire burned into her vision — his steady voice, his back shielding her without hesitation. That was Mo Shenyu.
"Thank you for your help," she said abruptly.
"Ms. XL—"
"I will not leave him behind."
Her tone brooked no argument. She reached up, tugged the blue dragon-patterned scarf tight around her face, and turned on her heel.
"Don't—" one of them began, but she was already gone — darting into the maze of alleys, her black silhouette vanishing between the flickering streetlights.
For a heartbeat, the guards stood frozen, the rain hitting the pavement like static. Then the leader exhaled and muttered under his breath, "Boss is going to kill us."
And still, not one of them dared to block her.
Because somewhere deep down, every man there knew: if Mo Shenyu was a devil born from war, Feng Xueling was something rarer — the kind of force that even the Devil himself might follow back into hell.
Xueling ran with all her might back to the arena. Thankfully, they had come only one street away. She could still hear the gun fight inside, they came in short disciplined bursts.
Her mind kept replaying the image the man running towards her.
The flash of silver light when he deflected the bullet meant for her.
The low, calm command — "Stay low."
And the moment his arm came around her shoulders, solid, protective, blocking her from the rain of bullets.
In both her lives combined, she had never been protected like that.
No one had ever stood in front of her danger.
Not when she was a child locked in that cold attic, not when she had been ridiculed in school, and definitely not when she clawed her way through betrayal and death.
But now, he had — without hesitation. She didn't know why, didn't know how he knew to come to her rescue, but she was sure she just couldn't leave him behind.
Xueling reached the metal door they had passed through. It didn't take her more than a couple minutes to crack that open.
When she reached the edge of the corridor, she froze. Down below, amidst the wreckage of overturned tables and bleeding men, Mo Shenyu stood — back straight, expression carved from stone. Blood streaked his sleeve, and yet his eyes were cold, alert, unshakably calm as he reloaded and fired, covering the last of his men.
A gunman leapt from the side — Xueling didn't think, she moved.
Her body reacted faster than thought — springing from the ledge, landing with a soundless grace behind the attacker. One sharp twist — crack — and the man fell boneless to the ground.
Mo Shenyu's head snapped toward the sound — and their eyes met.
For one breath, everything else vanished — the smoke, the noise, the chaos.
Only that single, stunned heartbeat — her, standing amid the ruin, face half-shadowed, scarf slipping down to reveal the faintest curve of her lips.
"Didn't I tell you to leave?" his voice came low, hoarse.
"I don't listen well" she said as she methodically stripped the nearest Chen family soldier of his weapons.
Somewhere deeper in the arena, a fresh wave of gunmen stormed through the tunnels, their footsteps pounding closer.
"Let's finish it together, my long Aotian."
Mo Shenyu flicked her a glance, catching her red lips moving up in a mesmerising smile. Focus he told himself and wet back to loading the cartridge into his pistol.
"Five on the left, three on the right," he said. "Easy targets".
Xueling was already counting them by sound. "The two at the center are heavier — bodyguards, not hired muscle."
He glanced at her briefly, the corner of his mouth twitching. "You can tell by sound?"
"By arrogance," she replied, eyes narrowing. "They stomp like they own the floor."
And before he could respond, she moved — a flicker of motion cutting through the smoke.
Her body twisted, her kick slicing through the air. The first man barely had time to raise his weapon before she disarmed him, pivoted, and sent him sprawling. The second lunged from behind, only to be met by Mo Shenyu's elbow driving into his solar plexus, his gun already trained on the next.
For a moment, the world became rhythm — strike, block, parry, dodge.Their movements flowed like choreography, brutal and seamless.
He covered her blind spots with soldier's precision; she darted forward like lightning, dismantling opponents faster than he could aim. When one of the gunmen tried to flank her, Mo Shenyu was there — his arm snapping out, dragging her back just as a bullet tore through the air where her head had been.
Her breath hitched, his chest against her back — solid, steady, dangerously close.
"I told you to stay low," he growled, voice rough in her ear.
"Sorry! Did I mention I don't listen well?" she whispered back.
For half a second — just half — the corner of his mouth curved.
Then another attacker screamed and charged.
Mo Shenyu moved first, vaulting forward, landing a devastating kick that shattered the man's jaw. Beside him, Xueling's scarf flared in motion, her hand slicing a narrow arc across the next man's wrist — precise enough to drop his weapon, not kill. She'd learned to strike without wasting energy.
When the last body hit the ground, the silence rang louder than the gunfire had.
They stood back to back amid the wreckage — breathing hard, the acrid air filling their lungs.
From the corner of her eyes, Xueling caught sight of another wave of bodyguards engaged in intense hand to hand combat. Their style was brutal, but so beautiful to watch.
"They aren't from my team" Mo Shenyu said "They joined in to protect us"
"Hmmm…" said Xueling pushed her hair back, vaguely uncomfortable at the idea of owing more people.
Mo Shenyu holstered his weapon, turning to her. "You're bleeding."
"It's nothing," she said — but he reached out anyway, fingers brushing her jaw, tilting her face toward the light.
The touch froze her breath. For a second, everything in her — the fight, the adrenaline, the pride — melted into silence.
"You shouldn't have come back," he murmured. "You could have died."
"So could you."
Their eyes locked — steady, defiant, and something else neither dared name.
He dropped his hand, the ghost of warmth lingering where his fingers had been. "We need to move. my team can handle…"
Feng Xueling caught a flicker of movement behind Mo Shenyu.One of the fallen gunmen — barely clinging to life — had raised his weapon, the barrel trained straight at them.
"Watch out!"
Without hesitation, Xueling activated the bracelet shield and lunged forward, pushing Mo Shenyu aside.
But she had miscalculated.
The gunshot split the air.
Mo Shenyu's eyes widened — horror, then blood-red fury flashing through them — as a searing pain tore across Xueling's back. Her breath hitched. The world tilted.
No!!! came a roar from somewhere far away.
At least he's safe, she thought faintly, as darkness swept over her vision and she fell into it, silent and still.