The door swings open drawning the mongols' attention on the person who dared to disturb them. They expected everything, but not a woman.
"A woman?" - one of them spoke mockingly. After few moments of silence, the mongols burst out laughing.
The woman didn't answer but her eyes were piercing through the mongols, observing every each of them. She's wearing a long-sleeved black jacket with leather accents, and wide-leg black pants. On her head there is a black samurai hat and on her back, a longbow. Slowly she started moving forward, drawing her katana. The katana's detailing is beautiful - but intimidating, this sword probably saw more blood than anyone or anything.
When the mongols finally got tired of laughing, one of them got up and draw his sword, pointing it towards her. He lunged towards her his sword is few centimeters away from her neck when suddenly she raised her katana and in a blink of an eye his head got disconnected from his body. His body and head fell on the floor, his blood is everywhere on her, on her face, her sword, her clothes. But the question is, who was this woman?
- It's me, of course. Name's Mei. Mei Hōjō. But how did I get there? Let's start it from the beginning.
YOU ARE READING
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑙 𝑜𝑓 𝑎 𝕊𝕒𝕞𝕦𝕣𝕒𝕚
Mystery / ThrillerWas it a good idea going down on the path? Was it worth it? Or it was all for 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴?
