Chapter Nine: Misty Moonlight Over the Four Palaces

Four AH-64 attack helicopters lined up in an imposing display. The Boeing AH-64 “Apache” was the mainstay of the M country’s armed forces, the powerful result of the advanced attack helicopter program of the last century. As the successor to the AH-1 Cobra, it had held the number one spot in the global attack helicopter rankings from the moment of its debut, lauded for its exceptional performance and combat record.

All four helicopters were coated in a matte black radar-absorbent finish, giving them a solemn and awe-inspiring presence. Yet there was one detail that clashed absurdly with the rest: on each side door were two butterflies, rendered in the childish scrawl of a child’s drawing, as awkward and naive as could be imagined.

It was as if a cold, sharp black-clad hero had been forced into a little girl’s dress—so disharmonious it was almost comical.

“Damn, Boss, where did Owl find these? Apaches—M country’s military attack helicopters! Did Owl rob their army?” Wes stared at the oncoming AH-64s, so excited he even let slip a famous curse from the old country.

For men like them—killers by trade—the allure of weaponry was no less than that of women. A fine weapon could make all the difference in their line of work. If it fit one’s hand perfectly, it could elevate one’s prowess immensely—especially with something like the Apache, a mindless instrument of destruction.

“Yeah, these are intimidating all right. But I really want to ask about those childish butterflies on the fuselage,” Xue Tian’ai replied, less concerned about the origin of the Apaches than about the childish butterfly sketches. Even if they’d been drawn more skillfully! These two butterflies utterly ruined that dashing exterior.

“Boss, I hadn’t even noticed until you said it. They’re hideous. We’ve got talented artists among the Butterflies, don’t we? This is an affront to our image.” Wes now realized, and could only protest helplessly.

The massive rotors shredded the air, engines roaring with abandon. The sea breeze whipped across their faces, waves battered the derelict dock, and the entire atmosphere grew tense and deadly.

Even the seagulls that usually circled were nowhere to be seen. The giant AH-64s, their noise oppressive, slowly descended onto the abandoned wharf, making the already cold and gloomy place all the more chilling.

As the helicopters landed, Xue Tian’ai motioned for Wes to hurry over. But as the cabin door opened, the smile on Xue Tian’ai’s face faltered, and Wes looked on with barely restrained glee.

Kneeling at the open door was a petite girl in a maid outfit with twin ponytails. She was adorable, her round glasses sparkling with innocence, her petite frame surprisingly shapely. Her chest was not overly full but drew the eye perfectly, the very picture of youthful beauty and charm.

Looking up at the dazed Xue Tian’ai, the little maid beamed sweetly. “Welcome back, Xue. But as a heartless man, seeing me so cute, don’t you think you owe me an explanation? In my country, men like you would have to commit seppuku for their misdeeds at a moment’s notice.”

Everything about her seemed pure and natural, her smile sweet and intoxicating. In that maid outfit, her youthful allure was almost irresistible, stirring a forbidden desire to strip away every layer.

But Xue Tian’ai, looking at the smiling girl, didn’t feel a breath of spring breeze; instead, he shuddered. Others might not know this little maid, but Xue Tian’ai knew her all too well.

He was certain that if anyone ever tried to act on the impulses her appearance inspired, it wouldn’t be the law that punished them, but this very kawaii little girl.

Her name was Yanya Shigong—a native of the R country and, within the Butterfly organization, known by the codename Crystal Rose Butterfly, a killer.

Once, Shigong had been a pitiful girl on the streets, nearly abused by a gang of sleazy middle-aged men, before a mission brought Xue Tian’ai to her country and he saved her. Since then, she’d followed him everywhere, and all her killing techniques had been taught by his hand.

Crystal Rose Butterfly Yanya Shigong was renowned in the world of assassins for the beauty of her killing arts. After each kill, she would meticulously extract the victim’s shoulder blades and arrange them beside the body in the shape of a butterfly—a scene both gruesome and bizarrely enchanting.

This signature had made Shigong nearly as infamous among killers as the legendary Phantom Butterfly.

But what troubled Xue Tian’ai was not her deadly artistry, but her peculiar tastes.

After being rescued, Shigong had developed a deep affection for the dashing Xue Tian’ai. As they spent time together, her intention to devote herself to him grew ever stronger, and she tried to seduce him many times. But, perhaps because of their close relationship, Xue Tian’ai always turned a blind eye to her advances. Until one day, Shigong snapped.

It happened one morning. Xue Tian’ai woke to find Shigong standing beside his bed, offering him a steaming glass of milk. Unwilling to refuse, he drank it down in one gulp.

But the moment the milk slid down his throat, Shigong’s pretty face curled into a sly smile. Xue Tian’ai instantly knew something was wrong.

His limbs went weak, but his lower body was flushed with blood, standing proud and unyielding. Shigong had laced the milk with a paralytic and the strongest aphrodisiac.

That morning was, without a doubt, one of unbridled spring passion. Shigong went from girl to woman, while Xue Tian’ai could only feel like weeping.

He had always been the dominant one, always in control between the sheets. But that morning, the little girl he’d rescued mercilessly turned the tables on him.

It was her first time, but as a native of R country, Shigong knew plenty about such matters. She made expert use of her body, putting Xue Tian’ai through every trick she knew. The poor man was utterly at her mercy.

After that, Shigong seemed to fall in love with playing the queen, developing a special taste for it. Every so often, she would dose him with another potent concoction and subject him to thorough “education.”

Thus, Xue Tian’ai felt both affection and fear for Yanya Shigong—delighting in her exotic R country charm, but dreading her sadistic queenly inclinations.

“Hey, Boss, thinking you’d be tired from your journey, I brought your little sweetheart along too. No need to thank me—just give me a raise!” A burly man nearly two meters tall, with a fierce face, poked his head from the cockpit, grinning lewdly.

This was Owl Butterfly, codename for the man who had brought the helicopters. In the first chopper, only Yanya Shigong and Owl Butterfly had come—a striking contrast: one a towering brute, the other a petite twin-tailed maid.

“Ahem, Yanya, you’re truly irresistible and adorable in that maid outfit, but every family has its troubles. I’m not a young man anymore; it’s hard enough finding a wife. You’ve ravaged me so many times—please, have mercy!” Ignoring Owl Butterfly’s nonsense, Xue Tian’ai hurried to explain to the ever-smiling Shigong. To him, that sweet smile was as menacing as the face of the King of Hell.

“Hmph. Men are all the same. But since you praised me, I’ll let it go.” Shigong rose, smiling, and hugged Xue Tian’ai tightly like a kitten, her slender finger drawing circles on his chest.

“Tian’ai, I don’t ask for a title. As long as I have a place in your heart, that’s enough.”

Holding the delicate girl, Xue Tian’ai smiled, stroking her hair fondly. “Of course you do. There’s always a place for you in my heart—just as long as you stop overpowering me.”

“Hmph. Boss, should I leave you two alone on the helicopter for a bit?” Owl Butterfly offered awkwardly.

“Owl, maybe you should get going. The boss might not be able to restrain himself,” Wes chimed in mercilessly.

“Get lost! We have serious work to do. And for the record, I don’t tire that easily! Let’s get to the point. On board, everyone!” Annoyed by their banter, Xue Tian’ai scooped Shigong into his arms and climbed into the helicopter.

Wes exchanged a sly glance with Owl Butterfly and followed. As soon as the door closed, Wes sidled up to Owl, rubbing his hands together with a conspiratorial grin. “So, old cat, where’d you get these Apaches?”

“Just got them. Took a job for the M country’s president last month—this was my payment,” Owl replied as he started up the aircraft.

“How about giving me one? You can’t fly them all yourself.”

“No way. Buy your own if you want one. I need these four to help me get a wife. I’m not as good-looking as you or the boss, nor do I have a childhood fiancée. Give me a break.”

“Stingy,” Wes grumbled, returning to his seat, buckling in, and glancing at the two still embracing. “Boss, let go—takeoff’s coming. I hear even the most energetic men lose their edge at altitude.”

“Wes, are you itching for trouble? Want me to find you a couple of hefty women to cool you off?” Yanya Shigong arched an elegant brow.

That shut Wes up immediately. He had no doubt the little minx would do exactly that.

“All right, Yanya, find a seat and buckle up. We have important work to do.” Xue Tian’ai gave her a reassuring pat.

“Hmph, ‘important work.’ You mean your fiancée is important. We’re just your expendable crew. Capitalists are so heartless.” Shigong pouted, reluctantly releasing Xue Tian’ai and curling up in a seat, casting him a sulky look.

Sensing her displeasure, Xue Tian’ai could only force a smile, pulling off his Goddess of Light Butterfly mask and exhaling deeply. “Finally, I can breathe. These masks are suffocating. Remind Bamboo Leaf to use a different material.”

With the mask off, his handsome, chiseled face was exposed. Yanya Shigong’s resentment vanished, replaced by a greedy light in her eyes. No matter how often she’d kissed or gazed at him up close, Xue Tian’ai’s face never failed to dazzle.

He truly was striking, sometimes flashing a wicked smile. If people knew that behind the Goddess of Light Butterfly mask was such a face, who knew how many would go mad—fighting to share his bed.

“Owl, do the four helicopters share a common channel?” Xue Tian’ai asked, rubbing his face where the mask had pressed.

“They do, Boss. The guys are eager for your orders! And that Skull is doomed—daring to touch your fiancée! Just give the word: a bombing run or capture and slow torture, I’m all in!”

“All right, open the channel.”

“On it!” Owl tapped the comms, and the speakers erupted with shouts: “Boss!” “BOSS!” “Boss, anyone who lays a finger on our sister-in-law is dead!”

“Ahem.” Feeling the warmth of his men’s loyalty, Xue Tian’ai cleared his throat to restore order. When silence fell, he continued, “There are several objectives in this mission. First, the Black Skull organization targeted my fiancée—they’re finished. Second, I want to know which idiot put a bounty on her head. So keep sharp: kill who needs killing, question who needs questioning, and don’t wipe everyone out before we know everything.”

“Roger!” came the unanimous reply.

“Good. Time is tight—move at maximum speed. Rest while flying. That’s all.”

As he finished, Xue Tian’ai gazed out the window, his face expressionless but a cold smile playing in his heart. Black Skull, after tonight you’ll be nothing but skulls indeed.

And rest assured, the one who put out the bounty will join you soon enough. A grudge paid with a bounty, a killer answering the call—it’s all fair. Too bad you targeted my woman.

Suddenly, as if remembering something, Xue Tian’ai asked, “Owl, what’s with those ugly butterflies on the helicopter doors?”

Even as the words fell, a sharp glare shot toward him.