I was trained to be a killer, cold and unrelenting. My soul was to be stripped from my body making me unbreakable but somewhere along the way my training failed and I became a killer with a conscience.

I discovered my burden after my training at the mountain compound was completed and I was sent on my first mission. I was to assassinate a mother and her newborn child because her husband had failed to produce the drugs that the headmistress had tasked him with creating.

I was ordered to lead a team of four assassins to her home and kill the marks, leaving no trace of our presence. I sent two assassins to take care of the mother and another man and I went to kill the child. I entered the nursery and upon seeing the child, no more than a month or two old in its crib, I had an epiphany. I could not allow this to happen. I unsheathed my broadsword and raised it above my head, but instead of striking the baby I cut down my associate. I then ran down the hall just in time to see my other accomplices hovering over the body of a sleeping woman. I snuck behind them and killed the first before he had a chance to react. The second assassin had a look of shock on his face but engaged me anyway. My sword skills were better than his, but the sleeping woman had been awakened by the sounds of combat in her bedroom, not to mention the headless body that had fallen on her. I had to fend off the sword of my adversary while at the same time protecting the screaming woman from harm as well. Needless to say I was not able to kill the final assassin but did wound him before he escaped. I knew that he would return to the headmistress and tell her what I had done and she would return herself to complete the job, kill me, and frame me for the murders. So I did the only thing I could. I returned to the compound and killed them all.

Afterwards I decided that I would not allow my training to go to waste, so I took the name Wong Mok-Sing, which loosely translated means Sword Sage Wong, and became the Saintly killer. I took assignments for marks that deserved to die anyway, but since my upbringing had been so harsh I cultivated an overdeveloped sense of justice. Even the slightest of transgressions became a malfeasance worthy of death in my distorted reality. There was no grey area to me. It was either good or bad, black or white. I would kill adulterers just as easily as a murderer or rapist and my reputation was very well known even if no one knew what I looked like. 

Some people would think it was strange to be sitting across from a man dressed in full military dress uniform, but to me it was Tuesday. The soldier had gotten a