Rain.
Stone.
Liang waits.
Three men step in. Steel whispers. No threats, only breath and intent.
The first lunges.
Liang shifts an inch.
Palm to throat.
The man drops, silent, coughing, alive.
Second swings wide.
Liang’s forearm cuts the wrist.
Crack.
Bone gives. Fight over.
The third hesitates. Too late.
Liang closes distance, elbow, knee, heel.
Three beats.
The body folds.
Rain fills the space where noise was.
Liang exhales.
Hands open.
Calm restored.
He leaves without looking back.