The heavy flat of the steel saber slammed across Han Ping’s face, sending the fat merchant crashing over his counting desk. Ledgers and wooden tally sticks scattered across the floorboards as a spray of crimson painted the stone wall behind him.
Before Han Ping could catch his breath or roll onto his side, a heavy leather boot drove into his ribs with enough force to c***k bone.
Crack!
The fat man shrieked, clutching his side as he was hauled up by his hair and forced onto his knees in the center of the warehouse.
The leader of the Shadow Guards stepped forward, his matte black robes rustling against the broken timber. He wore a silver mask that covered everything except two cold, arrogant eyes that stared down at the trembling merchant as if examining an insect crawling across a dinin
