147 The Angel Playing with the Devil

Faint, muffled weeping drifted through the pitch-black corridor.

Mu Qingcheng knew it was the sound of a surviving medical staff member terrified to the point of tears. She wanted to go and comfort them, but she could not move an inch.

Surrounding her, both in front and behind, stood five or six assassins clad in black. They were all slight and lean, identical in build to those she had encountered in the forest days prior; they had clearly been dispatched from the same source. At her feet lay the mangled bodies of the bodyguards sent to protect her. Most had their limbs violently twisted and snapped; the shattered bones had pierced through vessels, causing lethal blockages. Some had even been torn clean in two. The methods were unimaginably brutal. These bodyguards had suffered catastrophic casualties, leaving almost no hope for survival.

Staring at the carnage, Mu Qingcheng gritted her teeth, forcing herself to suppress the agony surging within her. The intense physical exertion had caused the toxins in her system to flare up once more. It felt as if ten thousand ants were gnawing at her bones, invading every inch of her body. Yet, this only served to ignite her indomitable fighting spirit.

After drawing a deep, shuddering breath, Mu Qingcheng tightened her grip on her dagger and offered a chilling smile.

"Who shall be first? It has been such a long time since I had to handle this myself."

*Whoosh.*

As the words left her lips, she hurled the dagger with all her might toward the assassin closest to her. Like a sharp hidden weapon, it caught the sliver of light remaining in the corridor, gleaming with a deadly, frigid edge. The man recoiled instantly. Seizing the moment, Mu Qingcheng pivoted, lowered her center of gravity, and delivered a vicious sweep, striking the ankle of the assassin standing behind her.

*Thud.*

Mu Qingcheng had always prided herself on her speed. Now, fueled by desperation, her movements were nothing short of extraordinary. The assassin collapsed to the floor. Before he could recover, the woman—her fingertips ice-cold and her gaze etched with bone-chilling frost—produced another dagger from nowhere and pressed it against his throat.

The man froze, catching sight of a smile so resolute it possessed the lethal allure of midnight poppies.

Then... *Sslash.*

The carotid artery, hidden beneath the dark tactical gear, was easily pierced and torn asunder. It was as if Mu Qingcheng were slicing through a scrap of black silk, effortlessly laying bare the crimson reality underneath.

"Hmph. You brought this upon yourselves."

Mu Qingcheng’s hand, still clutching the dagger, was stained with fresh, scarlet blood, yet it did nothing to quench the fire of rage burning within her. She stood up, turning slowly, the cruelly beautiful smile on her lips widening until it consumed her entire face. It radiated a desperate, suicidal resolve that made the remaining assassins shiver and exchange uneasy glances.

*Scared? Good. That makes things... easier.*

At this moment, calling her an angel descended from hell would not be an exaggeration. She possessed a face that looked entirely harmless, yet she performed deeds that would make even ghosts tremble. With the frames of her glasses gone, the girl revealed her true self: pure, bewitching, alluring, and ruthless. Every descriptor seemed to find its perfect expression in her.

Whether it was good or evil mattered little. Mu Qingcheng was the kind of girl who could embody every label and then bring them to life. She was an angel who toyed with demons as if they were puppets, commanding and unleashing them at will.

As Mu Qingcheng stepped forward, the men retreated. Her slender frame exuded such an overwhelming aura of dominance that the assassins were filled with dread, yet they found themselves with nowhere to run. In the next heartbeat, she transformed into a cold arrow capable of piercing the night, charging straight into the belly of the enemy.

***

Meanwhile, when the black car tore into the hospital parking lot like a gale, the sight of the entire building plunged into darkness caused the hearts of those inside to sink. Before the vehicle had even come to a complete stop, two tall men burst out from either side.

Si Qingchen’s brow was furrowed, and Mu Jingchi’s fists were clenched tight. Disregarding their status and composure, they sprinted toward the entrance.

When they finally fought their way to the floor where Mu Qingcheng was, covered by a phalanx of their subordinates, Si Qingchen, who was in the lead, suddenly widened his eyes. He halted, spun around, and looked at a bewildered Mu Jingchi.

"Third Master, my apologies."

With that, he delivered a swift strike to the neck, knocking Mu Jingchi unconscious on the spot.