The alley was narrow.
The Martial Artists spread out slightly, completely blocking any path of escape.
At this point, everything was under control.
Qin Yunhai slowly came to a halt. He looked forward, his gaze falling upon the young man’s hands, which hung naturally at his sides.
They were clean, delicate hands with long fingers and distinct knuckles, bearing no obvious signs of martial arts training.
More importantly, the man held no weapon.
’Foxes are masters of deceit.’
’The sleepy expression, the harmless posture—it’s all an act to appear weak and make his opponent lower their guard.’
’And after that will come the silver-tongued rhetoric meant to stun and confuse.’
’A pity.’
’This foolish fox still hasn’t grasped the situation.’
’I’m here to kill, not to negotiate.’
’What he should be doing is preparing himself, grabbing every weapon he can, and making a final, desperate stand—not playing these ridiculous little games.’
’At least then he could die with some dignity.’
Qin Yunhai glanced to his side at the towering figures next to him.
Ever since the Young Master was a child, he had led these eight men to solve his problems.
Over the years, they had taken countless lives.
Of course, in return...
Their master had held nothing back in his teachings. Not only was he one of the best, but the eight men behind him were the strongest disciples of the Martial Arts Hall.
Now that Zhang Ci was dead, this tedious business could finally come to an end.
’As long as I handle this cleanly...’
’After this is over, maybe I can try to get a post as a Purple Flood Dragon Constable at the Government Office?’
Qin Yunhai reined in his thoughts.
The slender man lowered his eyes again, rubbing his temples as he spoke casually.
"Cut him down."
CRACK! BOOM!
The sudden clap of thunder, a harbinger of the coming storm, masked the flurry of footsteps that suddenly erupted in the alley.
A subsequent flash of lightning tore through the dim night sky like a sword.
It illuminated the long sabers in the alley, each one glinting with a cold light!
This was no group of ordinary Martial Arts Hall disciples. They were a team of well-trained assassins, cultivated by Zhang Zhongping specifically to handle his dirty work.
As the saying goes, when enemies meet, their eyes burn with exceptional hatred.
Zhao Peng led the charge, his muscles rippling. A lifetime of practicing Martial Arts allowed him to kick up fierce gusts of wind with every step!
His split skin and torn lips twisted his face into an ugly, ferocious mask.
"Who’s going to protect you today?!"
Lin Shu stood motionless, his hands at his sides. His pupils reflected several figures pouncing like ferocious tigers.
The young man’s polite smile finally vanished.
In its place, a savage gleam—a mixture of excitement and greed—shone in the depths of his eyes.
Spiritual Power surged through him, flowing into his arms as wisps of Black Mist coiled around his fingers.
In the next instant, his seemingly frail, scholar-like body erupted with unprecedented explosive power.
Lin Shu’s fingers formed a claw as he swung his arm with brutal force.
The motion was so swift that the Black Mist between his fingers was dragged into long, flowing trails of dark flame!
RRRIIIP—
The muffled sound of tearing fabric echoed in the alley.
Warm blood and viscera sprayed out, splattering against the wall and across the dim shadow of a man who had leaped high, only to be severed in midair.
The men stopped dead in their tracks, staring at the corpse that had been torn in two.
The stench of blood assaulted their nostrils.
They had seen many dead men, but a death this gruesome made their hearts pound instinctively.
In the instant the Martial Artists were stunned, the lone young man across from them became a ferocious predator.
A tiger among sheep!
Lin Shu crashed straight into the human wall.
"Kill him!!"
Compared to Senior Brother Qin’s earlier, bored tone, their shout of the same command was filled with unconcealable panic.
Their Physiques, honed since childhood, were tougher than oxhide, their bones hard enough to shatter bluestone.
But before the hand wreathed in Black Mist, they were like slow-cooked pork shanks—falling apart at the slightest touch, turning to mush with a single squeeze.
"Hah."
Lin Shu had never practiced Martial Arts; he couldn’t comprehend the techniques behind their saber swings.
But he was an expert at fighting.
With a single glance, he could tell whose saber would strike him first and who was obstructed by their comrades, unable to use their full strength.
He prioritized them accordingly.
CRACK!
Lin Shu raised his hand and crushed a man’s throat.
Crimson splattered across his fair, handsome face, and a murderous glint appeared in his clear eyes.
He swung his arm again. The surging Black Mist shattered a steel saber as it swung at him from the side.
Clenching his fingers into a fist, he drove it into the man’s chest, blasting him backward.
Another life taken.
His long robes fluttering, the young man weaved through the crowd with ease.
Figure after figure fell in his wake.
Until the alley was spacious once more.
"Ghhk!"
The last disciple from the Martial Arts Hall stared down in disbelief, his features twisted and his eyes wide.
Lin Shu exhaled slowly and withdrew his hand from the man’s chest.
The disciple’s eyes dimmed. His tall frame twitched once and fell backward.
He crashed to the ground, revealing the slender man standing not far behind him.
Drip. Drip.
There had been thunder and lightning, but this was not the sound of rain.
Lin Shu stood with his arms at his sides. The Black Mist had now spread from his palms to his elbows, where it flickered like fire.
Thick blood dripped from his fingertips, soaking the muddy ground.
It added a splash of vivid color to the inky Fog.
"Cat got your tongue? Something on your mind?" Lin Shu asked, stepping over a corpse to face the man opposite him.
Qin Yunhai stared blankly at the young man nearby.
The whole thing had happened too quickly.
He hadn’t even snapped out of his pleasant reverie about the future, and now his opponent was standing right in front of him.
Thus, the slender man wasn’t calm and composed; he simply didn’t know how to react to what he was seeing.
Qin Yunhai struggled to regulate his ragged breathing.
He slowly bent over and placed his long saber on the ground.
Then, he straightened up, faced the young man, and took two slow steps back.
His meaning was clear without a word being spoken.
’I see what he is now. A wolf in sheep’s clothing... He’s a Cultivator, like Tian Jingyuan was. His Cultivation must be insufficient, which is why he’s stuck here in Magpie’s Nest for now.’
Seeing this,
Lin Shu glanced at the corpse at his feet. After a moment, he let out a puff of warm air. "Well, since you’re here..."
He looked up and grinned, his neat, white teeth flashing with a sinister light. "...you might as well stay."
Hearing this, Qin Yunhai’s expression flickered, and he licked his dry lips.
’I once saw Master fight Tian Jingyuan. Master ended up with a slight advantage in the end.’
’That proves a Martial Artist’s Inner Strength can harm a Cultivator.’
’My own Inner Strength is perfectly honed, just a single step away from the Grand Martial Artist Realm. I might just have a chance.’
’The reason I put down my saber wasn’t just to feign weakness; it’s because I’ve practiced fist techniques since I was a child.’
A current of Inner Strength surged through his meridians and into his arms. Beneath his calm exterior, he was already prepared to fight for his life!
"You forced me to do this!"
As the young man drew closer, a savage light finally erupted in the slender man’s eyes.
He let out a hoarse roar, lunged forward, and threw the most ferocious punch of his life.
His Inner Strength, all of it concentrated in his fist, howled as it shot forward, intent on tearing the slender figure before him to shreds.
But Qin Yunhai quickly realized something was wrong.
The Black Mist was ice-cold, and it seemed to freeze his very flesh and meridians, slowing his fist immeasurably.
So much so that his opponent caught his wrist with ease.
Horrified, Qin Yunhai looked up.
He was met with the young man’s indifferent gaze looking down at him and the slight, cruel curve of his lips.
SHLICK!
A vicious hand-chop, wreathed in surging Black Mist, sliced cleanly across Qin Yunhai’s neck.
Amidst a spray of blood, the severed head went rolling down the alley.

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