Chapter 34: The Sound of Hot Water Pouring into the Teapot

What did he mean? Watanabe Hirofumi’s mind stalled for a split second; not only him, but the Crow and the Hummingbird were momentarily stunned as well.

But soon enough, all three understood the significance of that simple word—“He’s here.”

Suddenly, the sound of shattering glass echoed from downstairs, mingling with the shouts and screams of the guards. The thunderous pounding—both heavy and sharp—blended with the piercing shriek of car alarms, their “wee-woo-wee-woo” jarring in the silence of the night.

This Western-style building was no stranger to the neighborhood; the surrounding residents, though familiar with its presence, had grown used to it. Whether martial artists or bounty hunters, they all had their own places to live—not secluded in distant mountains or hidden valleys, but rarely mingling with ordinary people.

Though the locals might not know the full extent of what went on, rumors persisted, especially about the headquarters of Six Leaves. Fights were common, so much so that even police intervention was rare. The commotion tonight was unusually loud, but the neighbors merely shut their doors and windows tightly, as if to keep out a storm.

Downstairs, the cries and shrieks grew more frequent. Watanabe Hirofumi’s jaw twitched; it was clear that someone had come to Six Leaves headquarters looking for trouble.

Sudden hurried footsteps sounded at the stairwell, and the office door was flung open without ceremony. A disheveled man in black, gasping for breath, called out, “President! Someone has forced their way in, it’s… it’s—”

“Calm down.” Watanabe Hirofumi gripped the armrest of his chair, struggling to keep his composure. “Who is it?”

“It’s Xiao Kaitian!”

The office fell instantly silent. The Coyote narrowed his eyes, the Crow’s lips curled into a wicked smile, and the Hummingbird raised an eyebrow at his own misjudgment. As for Watanabe Hirofumi, he opened his mouth, but no words came.

It was nothing new for a marked man to kill a bounty hunter. But for one to attack the very headquarters of the bounty hunters—this was unprecedented.

Was Xiao Kaitian simply tired of living, or had he grown so bold as to court death itself?

But the thought flickered and vanished; his underling’s panic made Watanabe Hirofumi realize that something was amiss. He glanced at the three.

“Let’s go see,” the Crow said with a shrug, utterly unconcerned. “The three Guardians of Six Leaves are here—what’s to fear?”

The Coyote didn’t move. He reached for his teacup again, sipping the now-cold tea in small, measured mouthfuls. The Hummingbird, face cold, said, “I’ll go with you.”

“Phew!” Watanabe Hirofumi exhaled only when the two rose to leave. He took out a handkerchief, wiping the cold sweat from his brow.

For Xiao Kaitian to challenge Six Leaves alone, he had to be a martial artist—there was no doubt about that. It wasn’t a secret, whether in Han-Tang or in Japan, that scions of noble families were exposed to martial arts. But for them, training was mainly to strengthen the body or for self-defense; their true calling lay in managing their family’s affairs, not in pursuing martial mastery to the exclusion of all else.

No matter how skilled Xiao Kaitian was, at best he might be at the early stage of the Profound Realm, or perhaps only in the Yellow Realm. With the Crow and Hummingbird working together, there should be nothing they couldn’t handle.

Sure enough, the Crow’s laughter floated up from downstairs. “Not bad, not bad—a martial artist indeed! At least the middle stage of the Yellow Realm, I’d say.”

His words were met only by the whoosh and thud of combat, but Watanabe Hirofumi relaxed. Against someone at the middle or even peak of the Yellow Realm, neither the Crow nor the Hummingbird alone could guarantee victory.

Martial artists and bounty hunters were different. The latter specialized in stealth and subterfuge; in a direct confrontation at the same level, bounty hunters were at a slight disadvantage.

But with the Hummingbird joining in, there was no problem. Watanabe Hirofumi did not believe Xiao Kaitian could stand against two D-grade bounty hunters.

“Let me have a try! Don’t get too cocky!” the Crow shouted.

For once, Watanabe Hirofumi found himself in a good enough mood to pour hot water into the teapot. He planned, once Xiao Kaitian was subdued, to savor the opportunity to torment him and wipe away the shame he had suffered.

The sound of hot water streaming into the pot was clear and satisfying, just as Watanabe Hirofumi intended. The Crow’s specialty was close-quarters combat with a blade—sharp and unstoppable, like a crow’s beak.

He inhaled the faint scent of plum blossom rising from the teapot. This was his favorite tea, brewed with spring water from Mount Takao, possessing a flavor of rare refinement.

Judging the timing just right, he picked up the teapot to pour himself a cup, when the Crow’s furious roar came from downstairs: “Hummingbird! Are you dead or what?”

With a huge crash, the whole house seemed to shake. Startled, Watanabe Hirofumi’s hand jerked, and a splash of hot tea scalded his left thumb, turning it instantly red.

Had the Crow failed? He was still pondering this when the Crow’s shout rang out from below: “Damn it, Hummingbird! If you’d been any slower, I’d be dead by now!”

Thank goodness! Who would have thought Xiao Kaitian would be so troublesome? It seemed the Crow alone couldn’t subdue him. But now, with the Hummingbird in, the two together should have no trouble at all.

The two of them, after all, had once joined forces to assassinate a tyrant of a dictatorial state. Their rapport was forged over years; together, they were more than the sum of their parts.

Watanabe Hirofumi was no master of martial arts or bounty hunting; his expertise lay in management and operations. He was not skilled in assessing situations such as this. Glancing at the Coyote, who now wore an expression of calm confidence, he allowed himself a faint smile. “Would you care for a cup as well?”

“No rush,” the Coyote replied, rubbing his bald head and settling back into the sofa. “I prefer strong tea. Let it steep a little longer.”

“Quite right. On a cold winter night, a strong tea sharpens the mind,” Watanabe Hirofumi said, shaking his head with a sigh, tinged with a hint of regret.

“Boom! Crash! Thud!” No sooner had he spoken than a series of deafening noises erupted from below. Judging by the sound, it seemed a non-load-bearing wall had collapsed. The battle was fierce, indeed.

But after those few explosive sounds, it was as if someone had pressed the pause button. All noise ceased in an instant.

Watanabe Hirofumi felt a growing unease. Still brimming with confidence, he lifted his cup, savoring the plum fragrance as it slid down his throat, warming his stomach.

A wave of drowsiness began to spread through him, and he couldn’t help but yawn. But midway through, he was jolted awake, the yawn cut short.

It was utterly silent—no footsteps, no shouts, no groans—nothing but the muffled sound of his own hand covering his mouth.

This wasn’t right! If Xiao Kaitian had been overwhelmed, wouldn’t his men have rushed up at once to report it?

On the sofa, the Coyote finally opened his eyes.

Amid Watanabe Hirofumi’s bewilderment, a faint sound finally pierced his ears, so sharp it made his right ear twitch involuntarily.

It was the sound of footsteps—leather shoes ascending the stairs, one step at a time, rhythmic and unhurried, steady and inevitable.

Step by step.

Like the tolling of a funeral bell, each one struck deep in Watanabe Hirofumi’s heart.