The night was deep, the sky devoid of moon or stars, a pitch-black shroud thick as ink, where even outstretched hands vanished into the void.
“Heh, the heavens are truly on our side. It was clear skies all day, but after the sun set, the weather turned overcast. The old ancestors had a saying: ‘A moonless, windy night is the time for murder and arson.’ Not to kill or burn tonight would be a disservice to them!”
Chen Dong stood outside the tent, peering into the inky darkness, a smirk tugging at his lips as he spoke to Xu Hai and Ma Ye.
“Let’s see if there’s a chance,” Xu Hai replied, his gaze fixed on the distant city, its walls flickering with the glow of campfires, his tone flat.
Gone was the bold ambition he’d carried when he first arrived. Repeated setbacks had forced him to face reality.
Suzhou, it seemed, was beyond his grasp.
But as long as a sliver of opportunity remained, he’d seize it. Tonight’s conditions were perfect for a night raid, weren’t they?
“The odds are decent. We’ve handpicked three hundred elite fighters—masters of climbing and unmatched in combat—led by five ninjas, each commanding sixty men. We’ve steered clear of the heavily guarded gates, targeting a remote stretch of wall for the sneak attack.”
Ma Ye pointed toward the ninjas and pirates already melting into the darkness, his voice brimming with hope.
“Hm, the odds are decent…” Xu Hai echoed emotionlessly, his eyes drifting back to the firelit walls, as if he could see the man he despised so fiercely he’d devour his flesh and sleep on his skin.
Decent odds?
Not necessarily!
That damned bastard was cunning to a terrifying degree—likely too sharp to let this chance slip through.
Looking back, the moment his cross-sea raid on Suzhou was spotted by Zhu Ping’an’s scouts, the outcome was sealed.
A discovered sneak attack was no sneak attack at all—only a frontal assault remained. But their preparations had all been for stealth: light weapons, no heavy cannons, no siege engines. The failure was set in stone the instant they were exposed.
Though defeated, though he burned with hatred, Xu Hai had to thank Zhu Ping’an. At least this loss taught him a valuable lesson: always prepare for two outcomes.
Xu Hai took a deep breath, steadying himself, his gaze tracking the ninjas and pirates slipping into the night…
Dreams were worth having—what if they came true?
Five diminutive ninjas, clad head-to-toe in black—shoes, socks, headwraps, masks—blended seamlessly with the night. Even their exposed faces were smeared with ink, rendering them near-invisible. They moved with almost no sound, like favored children of the darkness, undetectable beyond a meter.
The pirates trailing them weren’t far behind in stealth. Dressed in black with ink-smeared faces, their steps weren’t as silent as the ninjas’, but their cautious tread kept noise to a minimum.
To avoid accidental sounds, both ninjas and pirates bit down on small dry twigs.
Following Xu Hai’s orders, the ninjas led the pirates away from the gate areas—too many guards, too frequent patrols, unfit for climbing. They veered south over three hundred meters before halting, hands signaling the pirates to stop.
After a brief exchange of glances and nods, the five ninjas confirmed this as their infiltration point.
This section of wall lay between two campfires and two guard posts, shrouded in darkness, seemingly abandoned.
The ninjas spread out, spacing themselves three to five meters apart, marking their climbing spots.
Soon, they directed their pirates to form human ladders against the wall. A row of pirates stood at the base, hands extended. Others stepped onto their palms, hoisted up to stand on their shoulders.
A second tier climbed atop the first, hands and shoulders serving as steps for the next, forming a three-layer pyramid.
They hadn’t trained for more—three tiers were their limit.
The five wiry, monkey-like ninjas sprang into action as the ladders took shape. With agile leaps, they scaled the human steps—hands, shoulders—launching into the air, their arms outstretched to grasp the subtle seams between the wall’s bricks.
Their success owed partly to their nimble frames and skilled hands, and partly to the ninja tools they wore: iron hand claws.
These custom-forged weapons, tailored to each ninja’s hand, resembled steel gauntlets. Five razor-sharp claws protruded like an eagle’s talons—hard, keen, and flexible—capable of rending flesh or aiding climbs. Often, the tips were laced with deadly poison for added lethality.
A perfect tool for murder, theft, and scaling walls.
Here, the ninjas hooked the claws into the seams, anchoring themselves securely.
With one hand gripping the wall, they drew foot claws from their belts, slipping them onto their feet.
Then, like geckos, they ascended—hands and feet working in unison with practiced ease. Halfway up, they found a wider crack, drove an iron spike into it, hammered it firm, and tied a rope around it, tossing it down.
The pirates below grabbed the ropes, climbing like ants in a line…
True to their craft, the ninjas scaled the wall with fluidity, as if it were second nature.
Every few meters, they’d pick a spot, lodge a spike, and drop another rope.
The pirates climbed slowly. The fastest ninja was just two or three meters from the top while the pirates below had barely reached a third of the height.
Guards patrolled the wall, but this stretch saw infrequent checks. Since the climb began, only one patrol had passed. When guards neared, ninjas and pirates pressed flat against the wall, motionless, resuming only after they’d moved on.
Two or three meters to go—yoshi, tonight was going smoothly. The honor of first ascent was theirs…
The ninjas brimmed with confidence.
Step by step, they pressed upward.
Suddenly, the lead ninja’s head struck something. A jarring “ding-dang-dang” of bells rang out, like the chimes of a soul-reaping spirit.
Instantly, his scalp prickled, his heart racing with dread. Shit, we’re exposed!
The other ninjas froze, dumbfounded. Bells? Where the hell did those come from?! Who hung them?!
