He threw a scissor blade like a boomerang. It sliced the first assassin’s gun in half. The second lunged—Seven spun, kicked a trash can lid into his face, then used the second scissor blade to pin the third’s sleeve to a wooden crate.

Dai Bo looked up from his magazine. “Did you kill him?”

Seven sighed, shed the fern costume, and walked toward Old Chen, who was feeding stray cats by the dumpster.

“…No.”

“The target is still alive,” said the voice on the other end.

The Seventh Rule