In a narrow dark alley in Hong Kong.
A woman was limping forward while supporting herself on the wall, warm liquid spilled from her abdomen—blood. With every step she took, a new bloody footprint was left on the ground. She pressed her hand against her wounded abdomen under the dim street light that faintly illuminated her face, beads of sweat the size of beans surfaced on her forehead, and her face appeared somewhat pale and agonized.
"Whoosh." Suddenly, the sound of the wind blowing past, and a figure appeared in front of the woman.
"Master." Recognizing the person by the faint light, the woman knelt down with fear and reverence, inadvertently aggravating her abdominal wound, gasping in pain.
