Chapter 363 - Down

Qing Zihao was awakened by the sound of muffled grunts. He almost fell off the bed when his body jumped. All he could see was Christina's silhouette and how her arm was moving up and down. Whenever her hand would arc, there would be something dripping and splattering on his walls.

"What are you doing?!"

Christina looked at him with a feral look on her face. Her teeth bared and she snapped at him that she almost looked like she was also going to kill Qing Zihao.

"They've sent people to kill you," she said and dropped the head that she was holding upright.

The body remained suspended, half inside the room and the other half still dangling about forty feet in the air.

She cracked her neck. "Did you finally grow some balls? Or should I go check the rest of the house myself?"

Qing Zihao glared at her and pulled the drawer next to him. He took out a gun and a few knives. She shook her head when he gestured for her to take some for herself. "I'm good," she said.

But of course she was, his mind said sarcastically. 

Christina twirled a pair of knives in her hands. He didn't even think that she was showing off. She was just really flexing her fingers. He wanted to say that it was out of character for her but her face remained serious and there was this new air around her.

She definitely knew what she was doing. 

She was comfortable in this.

His jaw almost dropped at his realization. She was really a bred assassin.

"Let's go," she said.

Qing Zihao did not protest when she went out first. After all, he was getting the vibe that she was more experienced in this field.

Christina pressed herself against the wall and made the lightest steps that Qing Zihao heard—or did not hear for this matter. They both crept until they reached the stairs.

It did not look like anyone else got inside the house through a window. Christina signalled that Qing Zihao should check the rooms in the other hallway. She was going down.

If there had been another entrance that she did not saw, that could mean their death. Christina stuck to the wall, crouching down. All the lights were off and she was putting everything by the small rectangles of lights from the windows. 

Once she reached the bottom of the staircase, she lurked in the shadows. She closed her eyes for a few moments, trying to clear her thoughts so she would be able to hear everything.

A lot of people would find this strange, but peace had never come for Christina like it did at the prospect of killing someone. There was just a moment of clarity. It was like letting nature take on its course. It was something like the survival of the fittest. 

There was a thrill in the moment of life and death. Nothing could get her blood rushing through her body other than this.

She hated herself for it. She hated that she came to be this person—but she was praying that her untamed self would take over and save her life.

Finally, there was a sound and Christina was on the move. She was like a viper in the dark. She did not know the nook and crannies of the house. There was just her gut and her ears. 

She saw the form walking towards the stairs. It was so dark that Christina did not even think twice when she launched her body to the form.

Most of the assassins were meant to be light. It was something that would help them be more flexible and stealthy. 

This one though, did not budge. In fact, Christina had not even reached the body when she suddenly felt pain. With its hulking shape, Christina did not expect the speed of movements. She was elbowed in the stomach that made her curl. She kept her groans to herself and tried again, attacking with her knife now. 

But then there was a click and the next moment, there was a gun in front of her face again. Behind the shining gun was a man of about early fifties. His white hair sticking up in the air. His face was lined with age but there was no denying with the shape of his eyes that he was Qing Zihao's father.

**

In an instant, there was light and a rumble of footsteps and Qing Zihao appeared with his breathhuffing. "Father, stop. She's my friend."

Then there were lighter footsteps. Christina saw the hem of a silk robe before exhaling in her mind. Here was Qing Zihao's mother—the woman who hated her even before they met.

"What is she doing here?!" she exclaimed once she saw Christina.

Qing Zihao paid her no mind. "Father, please. Listen to me first. Put down the gun. We're going to talk."

It was just now that Christina noticed that Qing Zihao's father was also wearing a robe. Huh, he was in a robe and he was equipped with a gun in his own house.

Christina opened her hands and both her knives cluttered on the carpet with soft thuds. "I come in peace. I am here to save your son. Maybe even help you get revenge."

"Father, please. Just stop this so we could talk."

The father's face remained hard for a few more moments before he finally released his gaze from Christina's face. He handed Qing Zihao the gun. "Tell the people that there are intruders inside the property. Look around. Then fire everybody."

Qing Zihao moved but his father waved him. "Not you. Your mother. Since when are you in charge of the household?" he turned to Christina. "We're going to sit down and talk. You tell me everything that you know then I'll decide if I'm going to kill you."

The same speech as his son. "Don't worry, sir. You'll find that I am of value."