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... movement—twisting shadows, flickering steel, and bloodstained rock. The attackers were precise. Trained. Each of them moved with disciplined rhythm, like pieces of a well-oiled machine.
Not ordinary mercenaries.
Kai flipped backward, barely dodging a sweeping arc from a curved blade. The tip sliced through a strand of his hair. He retaliated with a volley of poisoned senbon, two of which struck the masked enemy in the thigh. The man stumbled but didn’t fall.
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