Two cultivators, one tall and one short, passed through the hole in the wall and entered the room. Expressionless, they fixated on the pitch-black figure in the corner and the diminutive assassin he was shielding behind him.
"Who are you?" the tall Cultivator asked in a cold voice, his Flying Sword hovering in midair, its tip gently undulating rhythmically, like a venomous snake flicking its tongue.
"Criminal Nightmare, Evil’s Nemesis, Justice Messenger, Midnight Ghost..." From within the pitch-black figure, a muddled and hoarse voice, unlike any human’s, spoke. "You can also call me Bettman..."
Before his voice faded, the Ink Silk Armor sprang into action.
His feet stomped the floor, leaving deep imprints in the wooden boards, as the seemingly cumbersome figure shot out like an arrow, heading straight for Li Shenbin in the corner.
This was a post house outside the city, not far from Chang’an City. If they delayed any longer, they might attract other Cultivators. They had to make this a quick battle.
The expressions of the two Garrison Cultivators turned grim as they formed sword seals with their hands. One Flying Sword shielded Li Shenbin, while the other unleashed sharp Sword Qi, slashing towards the pitch-black figure’s neck.
The shrill sound of clashing gold and iron was piercing. The Government Officials in the bedroom cried out in pain, falling from their beds and covering their ears.
The Flying Sword failed to decapitate the pitch-black figure as expected. Instead, it was firmly lodged in his neck, unable to move.
The short Cultivator’s expression changed drastically. He formed more sword seals, commanding the Flying Sword to release multiple streams of Sword Qi.
In an instant, more than ten deep sword gashes marked the walls, floor, and beams of the room, but the figure’s neck remained intact; only his overcoat was tattered and torn.
"A Martial Arts Grandmaster?!" the short Cultivator instinctively exclaimed, his voice unusually shrill from shock.
Cultivators of talismanic magic, Sword Thought, and other Dao Paths—except for a few Telekinesis Masters who walked a deviant path and could cover their entire bodies with Mind Threads for protection—did not possess particularly strong physical defenses. If stabbed by a sharp weapon, they would bleed, be injured, and could die.
Only a Martial Arts Grandmaster, whose body and will had undergone a thousand hammers and hundred refines to reach perfection, could be immune to blades and spears, capable of traversing a mountain of knives and a sea of fire as if it were flat ground.
But Martial Arts Grandmasters were exceedingly rare, each a National Treasure not easily deployed. Why would one appear here to assassinate Li Shenbin, a banished criminal?
The pitch-black figure ignored the opponent’s momentary distraction. He plucked the lodged Flying Sword from his neck and hurled it violently out the window. Then, he crossed the entire bedroom in an instant and threw a punch at Li Shenbin on the bed.
The tall Cultivator’s Flying Sword returned in time to rescue, positioning itself before the panicked Li Shenbin and blocking the punch.
The body of the Flying Sword, struck by immense force, nearly bent to a ninety-degree angle. But with a light hum, the blade snapped back, emitting a clear, moon-like radiance.
Stars hang over the vast wilderness; the moon surges with the flowing river.
The Garrison’s Moon Flow Sword.
Moon-like sword light enveloped the pitch-black figure, Sword Qi rampaging—bombarding, slashing, and cutting—until the black overcoat was in tatters.
The pitch-black figure staggered back several steps.
As another of Yu Country’s vital institutions for suppressing Aliens, the Garrison had also acquired numerous Sect Secret Books from the Pre-Sui Period. The Moon Flow Sword was one such technique. Once unleashed, its Sword Qi spread like moonlight, leaving no room for escape.
The tall Cultivator’s mastery of the Moon Flow Sword was not particularly profound. The moonlight Sword Qi he released didn’t achieve the "bright illumination over the wilderness" or "silencing of all insects" described in ancient texts.
Even so, the wooden floor in the center of the second-floor bedroom was torn to shreds. Large planks of flooring crashed into the room below, smashing a table to pieces.
Yet... the pitch-black figure remained standing.
He had returned to the corner of the room. In his hand, he held a taut rope—at some point, he had managed to loop it around Li Shenbin. With a forceful tug, Li Shenbin, who had been sitting on the bed, was yanked into the air, flying over the large hole in the floor and hurtling towards the pitch-black figure.
The pitch-black figure seized Li Shenbin’s neck with one hand, unleashing immense power.
The two Cultivators had no time to think. They directed their two Flying Swords to intercept, but the assailant caught both mid-air with his other hand.
"Save me!" Li Shenbin’s expression twisted as he screamed loudly for help, desperately struggling.
The Protective Talisman detected the immense pressure and burned brighter, channeling all its Spiritual Power to counteract the choking force, its glow intensifying. This made Li Shenbin resemble a glowing cicada pupa.
Perhaps due to the privileges of his Li Family Imperial status, the Protective Talisman on Li Shenbin was even stronger than those used within the Academic Palace; it staunchly resisted the crushing force on his throat.
Li Shenbin himself transitioned from initial terror and despair to wild joy and smugness.
"HAHAHAHAHA!" The Commandery Prince’s son laughed maniacally. "You can’t kill me! Soon, Cultivators from Chang’an City will notice the commotion and rush over. Guess how they’ll torture and interrogate you?
"I killed Meng Ying! She deserved it for rejecting me.
"I also ordered Nie Shilei to be hounded to death! That fool wouldn’t just die quietly.
"If Jin Wusuan hadn’t sent people to protect that old man Nie, he’d be dead too, and his daughter would have been thrown into the Ghost Market to be made into a human pig!"
The two Garrison Cultivators, bearing an imperial mandate, clenched their jaws and pretended not to hear Li Shenbin’s venomous words, focusing on controlling their Flying Swords. But the pitch-black figure was too bizarre. Once the Flying Swords were in his grasp, the Cultivators’ connection to their Sword Intent weakened dramatically. For a moment, they couldn’t control them at all.
The pitch-black figure silently tightened his grip, the choking force increasing another notch. Most of the Protective Talisman’s light converged on Li Shenbin’s neck, shielding him completely.
Li Shenbin roared with crazed laughter, tears welling in his eyes, as he lifted a foot and kicked hard at the pitch-black figure’s chest. This action, of course, couldn’t harm the figure’s resilient body; it was merely an outlet for Li Shenbin’s emotions.
"I am of imperial blood! Even as a prisoner, I’m far superior to you lot. Hear those sounds of rushing air from Chang’an City? My protectors are coming! Prepare to die!"
Lights began to flicker on throughout the post house, and in the sky, the sound of rushing air drew nearer.
The pitch-black figure remained silent, still gripping Li Shenbin’s neck, and slammed him down onto the wooden floor.
Li Shenbin faintly realized something. His crazed expression froze slightly as, from the corner of his eye, he saw the two assassins exchange a look.
The pitch-black figure tightened his grip one last time, forcing the Protective Talisman to concentrate almost all its light on Li Shenbin’s neck.
Meanwhile, the short assassin raised the wooden Dagger with the green leaf high, aiming it at the chest of Li Shenbin, who lay prone on the floor.
After gathering power for a moment, the Dagger plunged downwards.
The wooden blade pierced the thin layer of talismanic light, slicing through Li Shenbin’s prison garb, skin, and flesh, drawing a line down his chest.
Blood gushed out. Li Shenbin convulsed and screamed, then his struggles ceased. His eyes glazed over, vacant, leaving only the slowing, fading beat of his heart.
Crimson blood trickled through the cracks in the wooden floor, dripping into the room below.
And from the sky, strong fluctuations of Spiritual Sense could be felt.
In the end, they had delayed a little too long.
With a sigh of regret, the pitch-black figure released Li Shenbin’s neck and tossed the battered Flying Swords back to the Garrison Cultivators, who stood rooted to the spot in shock and bewilderment.
Just as he was about to stand, he felt a tug on his hand. Turning, he saw the short assassin clutching his hand, pointing to the bloodstained wooden Dagger. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ ɴoᴠel Fɪre.nᴇt
The next moment, the green leaf on the wooden Dagger trembled slightly, and the two of them vanished from the spot.