Minutes prior, before the Order ever entered the throne room, they were observed by a rather odd trio; a crane, a tiger… and a panda.

Tigress peered over the rock they were crouched behind, watching as the snow leopards, accompanied by at least a dozen gray wolves, entered the main building of the ruins. The scroll they had nabbed earlier provided them with enough direction to stumble upon these ruins; and now, they had a closer look at their enemy.

"Can we go in yet?" Po whispered, his voice barely audible as he shifted restlessly beside her.

"No," Tigress replied firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. "We need to wait until they're fully inside. We can't risk being seen."

Po sighed quietly, settling back into his crouch, his eyes darting nervously between Tigress and the ruins. Crane, on the other hand, remained still and composed, his sharp gaze fixed on the building ahead.

The minutes dragged on, the silence around them amplifying the tension in the air. Tigress kept her eyes locked on the entrance, waiting for the right moment. The group had nearly vanished from sight, leaving only the faintest echoes of their footsteps behind.

As she prepared to signal for them to move, Tigress suddenly froze. Her eyes narrowed as she spotted two more figures approaching the ruins.

Snow leopards.

The two spotted felines stuck to the shadows, crouching behind the rubble as they made their way towards the entrance, their movements swift and silent. One had a pair of sabers strapped to their back, while the other carried a weapon Tigress had never seen before.

"Wait," Tigress hissed, holding up a paw to stop Po and Crane from moving. The two snow leopards entered the ruins with the same cautious precision as the rest of their group. Tigress watched them intently, her muscles tensed, ready to spring into action.

They waited in tense silence, the moments stretching out as the two leopards disappeared into the building. Tigress waited a few seconds longer, ensuring that the coast was clear, before finally signaling to Po and Crane.

"Now," she whispered, rising from her crouch. The trio moved swiftly and silently, following the same path the Order had taken, their movements fluid and synchronized. The ruins loomed over them, an imposing structure that seemed to hold secrets and dangers in equal measure.

As they reached the entrance, Tigress paused, peering cautiously into the darkened room. The two leopards she spotted earlier disappeared into a tunnel behind the massive stone throne, their footsteps creating a faint echo as they traveled. The three masters slipped into the throne room, the air instantly cooler and carrying the scent of damp stone. The tunnel ahead was narrow and dark, casting long, eerie shadows that seemed to stretch toward them as they moved deeper inside. Tigress led the way, her senses on high alert, every muscle in her body coiled and ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. The silence was almost suffocating, broken only by the soft sound of their footsteps against the cold stone floor.

Further down that same corridor, Aoyin and Kuei-shen, who had been purposefully absent up to this point, were ready to join their comrades and claim the Blade of Yarlung.

The two leopards moved with calculated precision, their footsteps barely making a sound as they advanced through the narrow corridor. The air was thick with tension, each step bringing them closer to the heart of the ruins. The silence was palpable, the kind that made even the smallest noise seem deafening.

Kuei-shen's eyes flicked to the side, catching Aoyin's calm, focused expression. Despite the oppressive atmosphere, she appeared unfazed, her movements smooth and confident. Her twin sabers were secured on her back, the blades reflecting the dim light as they walked. She was the picture of a warrior ready for anything, her posture straight and unwavering.

"Are you certain they haven't caught on?" Kuei-shen asked in a low voice, his tone betraying a hint of doubt.

Aoyin didn't break her stride, her gaze fixed ahead. "They suspect nothing. We've been careful, and they're too focused on the prize to notice anything unusual. Besides," she added, a faint smirk playing at the corners of her mouth, "they're underestimating us."

Kuei-shen nodded, though the knot of unease in his chest didn't fully dissipate. He adjusted the weapon slung over his shoulder, a crescent moon spade, its blade gleaming ominously in the dim light. It was a unique weapon, one that Kuei-shen had mastered over years of practice, and it gave him a small measure of comfort to have it close.

As they continued down the corridor, the distant sound of voices echoed faintly through the stone walls. The rest of the Order was ahead, likely nearing the Blade of Yarlung. Kuei-shen could sense the anticipation building, a mix of excitement and trepidation as they approached the culmination of their mission.

Aoyin's sharp eyes flicked around the corridor, taking in every detail. The walls, adorned with faded carvings, told tales of forgotten battles and long-dead kings, but her focus remained unwavering. She knew better than to be distracted by the past; their future depended on what lay ahead.

"We're close," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, though her words carried the weight of certainty.

Kuei-shen nodded, his fingers tightening around the shaft of his crescent moon spade. The weapon felt cool and reassuring in his grip, its weight familiar after years of training. But despite the comfort it provided, there was a tension coiled in his chest, a nagging sense that something was about to go wrong.

They continued in silence, the corridor eventually narrowing even further, forcing them to walk single file. The flickering torchlight cast long, distorted shadows on the walls, the darkness seeming to press in on them from all sides.

As they approached the end of the passage, Aoyin held up a hand, signaling Kuei-shen to stop. They were near the massive chamber now, where the rest of the Order would be gathered. The distant murmur of voices grew clearer, the echoes carrying fragments of conversation that were too faint to make out.

Then, the sound of steel being drawn cut through the air like a knife. The unmistakable, chilling ring of swords being unsheathed echoed down the corridor, reaching Aoyin and Kuei-shen with a clarity that sent a shiver down their spines.

Aoyin's eyes narrowed, her smirk returning as she exchanged a knowing glance with Kuei-shen. "It's starting," she whispered, her voice laced with dark satisfaction.

Kuei-shen nodded, his earlier unease momentarily overshadowed by the surge of adrenaline that accompanied the realization. "We're right on time."

They both stood poised at the end of the corridor, listening intently as the confrontation unfolded just beyond the threshold.

As expected.

The torchlight flickered ominously, casting long, wavering shadows on the stone walls as the Order faced their former allies. The chamber, once thick with the anticipation of their discovery, now felt stifling, suffused with the unmistakable scent of treachery. Daolaogui's paw hovered over the cursed blade, his eyes never leaving the guards who had so swiftly turned on them. The guards, who had once been allies, now stood with weapons drawn, their faces impassive to the felines in front of them.

The lead guard stepped forward, his sword leveled at Daolaogui, a cruel smile curling his lips. "We appreciate your hard work," he said, his voice dripping with mock gratitude. "But our orders were clear—this blade is to be delivered to Yumtän. And unfortunately, you've all outlived your usefulness."

He took another step forward, his cruel smile widening as the Order's gazes hardened in contrast. "You see, Yumtän's not the type to share power—or secrets. We were sent to make sure this little mission of yours ended the moment you found what we came for."

He tilted his head slightly, as if considering the irony of the situation. "But I suppose we should be thanking you. You've done all the hard work, braved all the dangers, and now, well… we'll be taking it from here."

Behind him, the other guards shifted, their weapons glinting in the flickering light as they tightened their grips, anticipation clear in their eyes. The room, once filled with the silent reverence of discovery, now buzzed with the unspoken threat of violence.

The guard's smile faded, replaced by a look of cold resolve.

"Kill them."

Before anyone could move, a throwing knife whipped past Daolaogui's shoulder, embedding itself in the guard's throat. He paused for a moment before he began grasping his neck, blood leaking beneath his paw. The lead guard's body hit the ground with a heavy thud, his shocked gaze forever frozen in the grimace of death as his torch rolled out of his grasp. For a heartbeat, the chamber was suspended in stunned silence, the only sound the slow, ominous drip of blood pooling beneath the fallen guard. The remaining eleven guards stood motionless, their eyes widening in shock as they registered the deadly accuracy of the knife that now protruded from their leader's throat.

All eyes turned to Jiangshi, his arm still outstretched from the throw. The subdued look in his eyes had been replaced with one of cold steel, his icy gaze making the guards hesitate.

"Oops."

Then, chaos erupted.

As Jiangshi's arm lowered, the tension in the room shattered like fragile glass. The stunned silence erupted into chaos, the remaining guards springing into action, their weapons raised with lethal intent. The chamber, once a silent witness to ancient secrets, now roared with the clash of steel and the shouts of combat.

Daolaogui snatched the cursed blade from its resting place, wrapping it up in the cloth it laid on as quickly as he could in spite of the advancing guards. He began wielding his greataxe with one hand, deflecting the guard's strikes with each brutal swing. He didn't dare attempt to wield the ancient weapon; not yet, anyway. Especially not under these circumstances.

Aoyin and Kuei-shen burst from the tunnel, leaping into the fray with their polar opposite fighting styles. Aoyin began her assault with calculated precision, her twin sabers flashing like silver streaks of lightning in an overcast sky. She moved with a fluid grace, each strike executed with lethal accuracy as she cut down the nearest guard with a swift, brutal slash across the chest. The guards barely had time to react before she was upon them, her cold determination evident in every move.

Kuei-shen, in contrast, moved with a calm and measured pace, his crescent moon spade whirling through the air in broad, sweeping arcs. He positioned himself at Aoyin's side, his weapon creating a defensive barrier that deflected the incoming strikes, allowing her to continue her offensive onslaught. His expression remained unchanged, a mask of quiet focus, even as Aoyin cut through the guards with brutal efficiency.

Jiangshi was finally on the move, darting through the chaotic melee with the agility of a shadow. He slipped between the guards, slashing tendons and armor straps as he went by with a cunning precision that left his opponents crippled and disoriented. His movements were a blur, each attack calculated to cause maximum disruption. The guards who tried to target him found themselves swinging at empty air, their strikes missing by mere inches as Jiangshi danced out of reach, his look of cold steel unchanging.

Hanba followed up behind him, his acrobatic agility on full display as he flipped over a charging guard, landing behind him as his rope dart constricted around the guard's neck, pulling the guard to the ground with a heavy thud. He twisted around a sword strike aimed at his back, using the momentum to fling the guard into the one charging at him, knocking them both down. He leaped into the air, landing atop one of the fallen guards, driving his heel into the man's chest with a sickening crunch. His rope dart snapped back into his hand, ready for the next target.

Amidst the chaos, Chimei stuck to the edge of the fighting, her twin metal fan blades glinting in the torchlight. She moved with a dancer's grace, her fans snapping open and closed with deadly precision. As two guards rushed her, thinking her an easy target, Chimei's fans unfurled with a metallic whisper. She pivoted, the razor-sharp edges of her fans slicing through the air and into the guards' exposed necks. Blood sprayed in crimson arcs as the men fell, gurgling their last breaths.

Chimei's eyes, usually warm and full of a quiet light, now burned with a fierce intensity. She spun, slashing at a guard's breastplate as she engaged another one. Her fans became a blur of silver and red, parrying the guard's sword strikes before finding their mark in his unprotected sides.

The chamber, once a silent tomb, now pulsed with savage energy. The air grew thick with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid stench of fear. Screams and grunts of exertion echoed off the ancient walls, punctuated by the sharp clang of metal on metal and the sickening thud of bodies hitting stone.

In the flickering torchlight, shadows danced macabre across the walls, twisting and elongating with each frantic movement. Blood spattered across the floor in dark, glistening pools, reflecting the chaotic scene above like a gruesome mirror.

The guards, caught off-guard by the Order's swift and brutal response, fought with increasing desperation. Their coordinated assault dissolved into individual struggles for survival as they found themselves outmatched by the felines' superior skill and ferocity.

Which is why, during the heat of battle, no one could have expected what happened next.