The front lawn was silent. The world had shrunk to the space between the front door and the street.
Inside, Lin Meng was paralyzed, her eye pressed to the blinds. Her father, Lin Wen, was a statue of terrified, mortal defiance, his golf club raised. Her mother was a whimpering, shaking wreck, clutching a cleaver she had no idea how to use.
Outside, the beast snorted.
The hot, foul-smelling breath fogged the living room window, a cloud of steam that momentarily obscured the crimson, glowing eyes.
The tiger was bored. It had played with the cars. It had crushed the "experts." This... this was just a box of soft, screaming food.
It lowered its massive, 2,000-pound frame. Its haunches tensed, the mutated, [Level 5]-infused muscles coiling like massive steel springs. It was gathering itself, its claws digging furrows in the soft, suburban lawn.
It was going to pounce. Right through the window. Right through the flimsy wall.
"Dad..." Lin Meng whimpered, her mind finally, finally breaking. "Dad, it's..."
She didn't get to finish. The terror was too much. She squeezed her eyes shut and let out the one sound she had been holding back.
A high-pitched, desperate, "someone help us!" scream.
And in that exact instant...
THUD.
It was not a crash. It was not an explosion.
It was a soft, dampened sound, like a heavy, 170-pound bag of sand being dropped onto the grass.
Lin Meng's scream cut off. Her eyes snapped open.
Something was on the lawn.
It was standing between the crouching tiger and the house.
It hadn't run up. It hadn't landed from a helicopter. It had, to her terrified, mortal eyes, simply... appeared.
It was a man. At least, it was the shape of a man. He was clad in robes, but they were not silk. They were a deep, shadow-black, and they seemed to blur at the edges, making his body shape, his height, his build, confusing and indistinct.
And his face.
It was a mask. A smooth, perfectly blank, featureless gray mask, the color of old, dead stone. The eyeholes were just two, empty, circular pools of shadow.
The figure stood, his back to the house, his hands held, relaxed, at his sides.
He just... stood there.
The tiger, which had been in the act of pouncing, froze.
Its muscles, tensed to explode, went rigid. A low, confused, whimpering growl rumbled in its massive chest.
Its animal instinct, its new, [Level 5: Blood Vitality] Qi-sense, was screaming at it.
The "experts" before... they had smelled. They had a presence. The silver-robed one (Li Wei) had been a bright, arrogant, [Level 4] fire of Qi. The BSA grunts had been smaller, [Level 2] sparks.
This... thing... in front of it...
It had no scent. It had no heat. It had no Qi-presence at all.
The [Concealment Robe] was working perfectly.
The tiger was staring at a void. A man-shaped hole in the universe. Its instincts, which had just been elevated to apex-predator status, had no category for this. This thing, which should have been a terrified, Mortal Root snack, was projecting an aura of absolute, terrifying nothing.
It was wrong. And that "wrongness" was more terrifying than any show of power Li Wei could have possibly mustered.
The tiger took a half-step back, its massive paws shuffling on the grass. The crimson glow in its eyes flickered, the rage now tinged with a new, alien emotion: dread.
Inside the house, Lin Meng, her father, and her mother were all staring, their own terror forgotten, replaced by a stunned, disbelieving silence.
On the lawn, the man in the gray mask finally moved.
He slowly, calmly, turned his head. Not to the family he was protecting.
He turned his head to the 2,000-pound monster.
Lin Hao, his heart a singularity of cold, white-hot, pure rage, looked at the beast that had dared to fog his family's window. He looked at the creature that had made his sister scream.
His voice, filtered through the mask, came out as a flat, cold, inhuman monotone, devoid of all emotion, but saturated with a killing intent so pure it made the air crystallize.
"Filthy beast."
The tiger flinched.
"You don't deserve to live."