Another drove a combat blade into the shoulder of the assassin chasing Ruyi, sending her sprawling into the wall.
Still, the enemies were relentless. They needed to catch Lu Wan Ruyi or Lu Zi Zhen, at least one of them.
Two of them reached for Ruyi again—one from the front, one from behind trying to surround her.
Her eyes flashed cold.
She pivoted into a crescent step, trapping one wrist and using his own momentum to spin him into the second attacker. They collided with a grunt and staggered back.
Wan Ruyi wasn't just holding her own—she was adapting. Fighting like a mother animal guarding her den, no one was going to capture her tonight.
Zi Zhen grabbed a fallen mercenary's taser baton and hurled it across the hall. "Momma!" he called.
She caught it midair and spun low, jabbing it into an attacker's ribs. Electricity burst—he screamed and dropped.
Still, the female assassin wouldn't relent. She returned to her feet, bloodied but not deterred.
With an eerie calm, she activated a small capsule at her wrist. A vapor hissed out—knockout gas, that was concentrated.
"Cover your mouths!" Lu Tian yelled cautioning them all.
Too late. Ruyi stumbled, feeling dizzy. She held onto the wall for support.
Zi Zhen launched forward and caught her before she could fall, wrapping her in his coat and lifting her off the ground.
"You bastards," he snarled, "you think you can take her?"
He met the assassin's gaze—and smiled coldly.
"Now you've made it personal."
Then the hallway shook with a loud bang—a small detonation in the ceiling.
More backup had arrived—Lu Zi Zhen's personal black ops team, rappelling down through the corridor's skylight in full gear, weapons locked and aimed.
"Stand down!" one barked. "You are surrounded!"
The remaining assassins paused.
For the first time, they hesitated.
Their mission had shifted. Extraction was compromised.
The woman assassin flicked a look at Ruyi, then at Zi Zhen, blood dripping from her temple. Without a word, she threw a smoke capsule.
The corridor flooded with white smoke, and when it cleared, they were gone, and the lights had turned on.
Zi Zhen cradled his mother in his arms protectively. "Momma, are you—"
"I'm fine," she gasped, the dizziness slightly fading. "The baby... I think we are okay."
At that moment, Lu Ting Cheng and Lu Zhi Hao appeared at the far end of the corridor, drawn by the echo of chaos and a hidden distress signal only those trained to hear would recognize.
Lu Zhi Hao's gaze instantly locked onto Wan Ruyi, cradled in their son's arms. Blood stained the floor, the acrid remnants of gas still hanging faintly in the air.
"Ruyi!" he called, voice rough with panic.
"I'm okay," she managed, clutching Zi Zhen's arm looking a little bit weak. "We are okay."
Lu Zhi Hao rushed forward, falling to his knees beside them. His hand hovered over her face, over her belly, not knowing where to touch, where not to, they were shaking. "I shouldn't have let you come here all alone," he whispered, anguish flashing behind his eyes. He just failed to protect her.
She gave him a tired smile and actually didn't blame him. They had made arrangements, but the people after her were so many of them.
Meanwhile, Lu Ting Cheng stood just behind, his sharp eyes scanning the scene—the bloodied marble floor, the lingering smoke, and the precise tactical formation of Zi Zhen's black ops unit holding the perimeter.
He then looked at his brother, Zi Zhen, still crouched protectively around their mother, expression cold and alert. There was a raw fury in his posture that made Ting Cheng's jaw tighten.
"You called in the Hawks," Ting Cheng said quietly, eyes flicking to the insignia on the operatives' gear. "That means this wasn't a random hit."