Even in the imperial capital, during that darkest period before dawn, the bustling streets had to quiet down for a moment. The streets, which had exhausted all their excitement throughout the day, occasionally showed signs of life with the noise of a few drunkards and the flickering lights.

  Two young men, both drunk, supported each other as they walked. One was completely intoxicated, while the other was slightly more sober and still had enough residual sense to figure out where they should go next. Both were very young, at an age when they were prone to acting recklessly, and were also handsome and good-looking, which only added to their bravado. They were a common sight in the capital city, and passersby barely gave them a second glance.

  Two young drunks gradually walked to the quietest and darkest section of the road. Ahead, three more drunks stumbled along, staggering from side to side. Everyone took uneven steps, getting closer and closer as they went.

  Those three drunkards seemed to be extremely drunk, with the smell of alcohol spreading all over the street. They couldn't even tell which direction they were walking in and almost stumbled sideways on the street, unknowingly about to bump into the two young men who were also drunk. Just as they were about to collide, the three drunkards' hands suddenly flipped over, with a familiar motion like they had practiced for decades, each hand now holding a dagger. The hands gripping the knives were very professional and firm. Their bodies, which had been twisted like snakes shedding their skin, suddenly straightened up and pounced on the two young men who were just inches away, with a sudden burst of energy like leopards. The swift movement was completely unrelated to the drunken expression on their faces and the smell of alcohol all over their bodies.

  The blade was very short and emitted a faint green glow under the lamp. There were no blood grooves on it, because once the blood flowed out, its toxicity would be weakened.

  These three knives entered the body as smoothly as if they were stabbing into bread, with no sound coming from the muscles as the sharp blades sliced through, seemingly not even being hindered by bone. The unique shape had indeed played its role, with no blood flowing out, and every point of toxin on it playing its part, rapidly and completely merging into the body's tissues to spread and destroy. A body that was just full of life stopped all signs of vitality in an instant. Not to mention struggling, even breathing, heartbeat, every sign of life immediately came to a halt. One blink of an eye ago it was human, the next blink of an eye it was just a lump of flesh waiting to rot and attract flies.

  The poison on the knife is extracted from the tail of a scorpion from the distant underground world of Nigen. This strange and intense toxin, as soon as it enters any living body, will immediately paralyze all nerve tissues, even if it doesn't kill, it will be impossible to move, which is the favorite poison used by assassins. Moreover, the poison on these three knives is enough to kill ten of the strongest horses.

  Three corpses stood upright and fell, making a sound like wood crashing, only in this blink of an eye their bodies were completely stiff. The young man who was not too drunk simply propped up his companion, twisted his body back one step, drunkenly pushed with a shove, these three agile, solid, and seasoned assassins collided with each other, knives also stabbing into the bodies of their companions.

  In the darkness around, a dozen or so figures clad entirely in black emerged silently, their professional footsteps and movements making no sound. Each of these individuals held an identical dagger, which emitted a faint green glow. As they gazed at their companion lying stiffly on the ground with an eerie posture, there was not a hint of disturbance in their eyes, which stared fixedly at the two people surrounded in the middle with the same stiffness as the corpse.

  Until all of them stood up, a person walked out from the darkness with a loud thud. This person was very tall and large, not wearing black clothes, as if he couldn't bear to cover up his robust muscles, holding a giant sword that matched his physique in his hand. Every step he took on the ground had a footstep sound that matched his stature. If it weren't for the bandages still wrapped around his face, he would have looked like an extremely majestic and powerful giant god.

  The man with the bandage over his eyes carefully sized up the two people surrounding him. The culprit who had tied the bandage around his eyes seemed to be dead drunk, and could only stand with the support of his companion. And this companion, even after taking down those three assassins, still looked slightly intoxicated, which didn't seem to be an act.

  "Who are you?" He stared at the slightly drunk man, whose bandaged head made his speech unclear. He waved his hand. "Forget it, whoever he is doesn't matter, just kill him. Don't kill that drunk one, I'll deal with him personally." The black-clad men around them all pounced forward.

  These four men were seasoned professional assassins, brought in from other countries by his uncle at great expense, and only used in the most desperate of situations. Killing a half-drunk man like this would be no problem at all. As for the drunkard, he would save him for later, first disabling him by striking the tendons in his limbs, then taking him away...

  But soon even his somewhat unreliable brain realized that something was wrong. This person, although unarmed and somewhat drunk, was unscathed and effortlessly dodging the attacks of over a dozen professional assassins. With one hand, he grabbed an assassin's hand, twisting it with ease, causing the joints to emit a cracking sound.

  The assassin with the broken wrist let out a faint cry of pain, but it was immediately cut short as his body stiffened into a human shield, several daggers lodged in him rendering both his voice and body instantly rigid.

  Then the humanoid shield immediately played a huge role in the user's hand. While being stabbed by several knives, the hand that maintained the stabbing posture also pierced one of his companions, and then swung horizontally, striking the companion who pounced from the side with legs as stiff as wood, and the sound of broken bones echoed.

  The assassins were all masters of coordinated combat, using their well-practiced formations to continuously stab at the person in the middle. However, this person's body was dodging and weaving through the flying daggers like a flower in bloom. It seemed as though the attacks from over ten people around him had been arranged for his evasions, and he had already anticipated every move of each person. As he dodged with fluid movements, the stiff corpse-like body in his hands also moved left and right, blocking and parrying without pause. One after another, assassins fell under this strange weapon, their bones cracking or being stabbed by the daggers attached to the shield, before falling straight down.

  When the humanoid weapon swept away two assassins with great force and another was stabbed to death by a dagger, the big guy standing next to him finally understood the situation. He picked up his giant sword and wanted to rush into the battle, but looking at the target he had been preparing to deal with slowly on the ground, he rushed towards the meat on the chopping board again. He didn't forget that this was the real person to be solved, taking advantage of the fact that the man was still dealing with the remaining assassins. He raised his giant sword high and chopped down at the target, under the weight of over 100 kilograms and his brute force, human flesh would be as fragile as flower petals.

  "Boom." The stone slabs on the ground flew about. He found it strange that he didn't feel the sensation of his bones shattering and muscles being crushed, nor did he hear the sound of his body cracking apart. There was only a faint chill in his throat.

  Then a warm current surged up, and every part of the throat felt this strange heat wave, which also had some stinging pain. This warmth even began to surge out of the body, extending downward along the skin.

  The opponent who was originally sleeping on the ground, drunk like a dead dog, has stood up. Not only did he stand up, but he also stood there with piercing eyes, as clear-headed as an apple washed clean in icy water, with his sword still dripping with blood. That was the blood from his throat.

  He dropped his sword, clutched at his throat and stumbled backward as if he could escape the horror before him. But the blood in his veins continued to gush out merrily, straining to break through the barrier of his fingers, some of it even spurting into his windpipe, making him want to cough, but all that came out were strange gurgling sounds.

  That robust body is now a withered grass in the cold wind, trembling violently along with the terrible sound in his throat. He retreated to the wall, his thick legs could no longer support his body, and he sat down along the wall, the gurgling sound in his throat and the tremors of his body subsiding as the blood flowed out of his fingers, finally stopping. His hands, now transparent with blood, slid down from his throat.

  Asa threw the humanoid weapon in his hand, and the last assassin was knocked out together with the stiff corpse of his companion. More than a dozen assassins were already lying on the ground. He turned around and saw his companions who had just successfully killed their opponents.

  Rodhart stared blankly at Styrk, who was slumped against the wall. This arrogant nobleman, who had been his vigorous opponent in combat just that morning, was now a lifeless corpse.

  In the faint light of the scattered torches on the ground, that ferocious face was still frozen in extreme fear, with skin lacking blood and somewhat loose and deformed, revealing a nauseating white color like plaster. In contrast to this disgusting color, a patch of bright red below the throat was both the last evidence of life for this body and a label of death. The wound on the throat was torn open, slightly curved upwards, like a smiling mouth, with only a glimpse of the tube inside visible.

  Roderick's face was somewhat distorted. He suddenly dropped his sword, took a step back, clenched and unclenched the hand that had held it, then rubbed both hands together as if trying to scrub away the lingering sensation. But the soft, clear feel of cutting open the throat still remained, not just in his hand but running up his arm and into his chest. He turned to Asa, opened his mouth as if to force out a casual smile, but his handsome face was twisted with pain and nausea.

  He suddenly bent down and started vomiting.

  Killing is not a trivial matter. If someone really doesn't feel anything, it can only be said that he is numb. If someone still feels comfortable with it, then it means that his brain is abnormal, just like those who play with their own feces and urine.

  Roderick was vomiting with great difficulty, very hard. His stomach had been empty for a long time, and earlier at the banquet he would secretly run out to vomit every time he took a sip of wine. But he was still trying his best to vomit, his stomach contracting violently, as if to squeeze out all other internal organs and unpleasant feelings. This young hero who had just been so spirited and heroic, now looked like a dog vomiting there. Finally, he managed to squeeze something out of his stomach, which was bile.

  Rodhart seemed to have finally let out a sigh of relief, gasping for air and straightening up to wipe his mouth, turning around to look at Asa with a slightly embarrassed smile: "First time killing someone with my own hands, killing someone who's really like me. It's indeed very uncomfortable, very nauseating."

  He wiped his face with his hand, still looking a bit haggard, but his smile had regained its usual warmth and charm. Despite the extreme fatigue, he still exuded confidence, like a diligent student determined to overcome a difficult problem. "But it's okay, these are just like measles, I'll get used to them eventually." He looked at the bodies scattered on the ground, as well as several half-dead assassins groaning in pain. "That's why I said you had to help me. If I were alone, I'd probably be dead for sure. You saved me again."

  Asa looked at the corpses on the ground with a frown and asked, "Why did you have to get me involved in dealing with this assassination? Why not just tell the military ministers about the Prime Minister's bribery and let them handle it? They would naturally think of ways to protect you or use this as evidence to deal with the Prime Minister. Now that he intends to kill you to silence you, isn't this even more powerful evidence?"

  "It's not the right time yet. This handle can't bring him down, I'm just speaking for myself." Even thinking about these means, his gentle and soft face still has a bit of naivety, making him look like a confident child who is very self-assured about his own tricks. "The key is that I've already dealt with this assassination attempt and yet I didn't report him. This way he'll know that I don't want to be his enemy, and also understand that I'm not an easy person to deal with. Naturally, he'll have reservations about me and won't dare to act rashly again. Having the upper hand psychologically will make things much easier to handle later on... Who knows, maybe I can even gain more friends, which is much better than gaining more enemies."

  "You've changed." Asa sighed. He remembered when he was in Eli, he was still a naive young man, but now compared to him, he seemed childish like a kid.

  "Because I've grown up. I'm no longer lost in my own fantasies, and I know how to face this real world." Rodhart smiled at Asa, the wound on his lips still there. "It was you who taught me how to face this cruel world."

  A hundred emotions welled up in him, and he shook his head, unsure of what to say. He let out another sigh, and his mood plummeted with it.

  Suddenly a strange and huge chill spread from the back to the whole body. As if countless ice needles suddenly pierced through the skin and muscles, rushing into the spine and stabbing into the bone marrow. Asa leaped forward with all his might, turned around in mid-air, and before his eyes was a river of lightning.

  "Hmph." Rodhart, who was standing beside him, only now heard the sound. A figure in all black emerged from the darkness and stepped on the head of an assassin who was still groaning, causing it to burst open with great force. With this momentum, the person transformed into a black lightning bolt that merged with the darkness, its snow-white sharp tip slashing towards Asa.

  Can't escape. Death. That's what flashed through Asa's mind in an instant.

  The light that can split the entire dark night into two halves is already in front of us. Like a mighty river from heaven, all the majestic scenery has been condensed for hundreds of years and then flows east to the sea, never to return, with a generous and stirring momentum that will engulf and sweep away everything in front of us, leaving nothing behind.

  Even though Asa was already in retreat, this blow that had been accumulating for a long time still flew towards him at an unstoppable speed.

  This sword had been silently brewing in the darkness for a long time, only revealing its sharp edge when its target's spirit was lax, body relaxed, and reaction at its slowest.

  His body was already suspended in mid-air, with no weapon in hand, only waiting for the call of death to slowly approach. All his senses were extremely sharp, he stared wide-eyed as the sword tip slowly got closer and closer... He could even feel his skin on his face starting to collapse under the sword's aura, as if it was about to burst open, with the muscles and bones underneath disintegrating like rotten wood, his head would explode under the sword's aura, like a tomato splattering everywhere onto the ground, walls...

  I don't want to die.

  Asa let out a loud roar. All his power, spirit, fear of death and hope for life were concentrated in his hands.

  He grasped the lightning bolt that was about to crush him with one hand. All his life converged into his hand, which was no longer a simple action, but a confrontation against death with all his life. His hand emitted a layer of white light.

  The blade's edge inched forward between the skin of his fingertips, the force between his fingers and palm surging, silently roaring, desperately squeezing and pulling that deadly sharpness.

  The sword tip finally stopped just as it was about to reach his eyebrows.

  The two of them landed at the same time, Asa continued to retreat, and the man in black continued to advance. The two of them alternated between advancing and retreating, sprinting down the dark alley, each step weighing more than a thousand jun, stones and mud flying out from under their feet without stopping.

  Finally, the sword body could no longer withstand the strong pressure from both sides, and with a scream of extreme limit, it shattered into countless small fragments.

  At the moment when the sword shattered, the man in black began to jump back, one foot trampling on another seriously injured assassin, the sound of bones shattering echoed, and then he bounced back, ending the last assassin's life cleanly under his feet. After a few leaps, he completely disappeared into the darkness before dawn, just as suddenly as when he appeared, without leaving any sound or trace, as if he was just a specter emerging from the underworld, flashing out his deadly power for an instant and then returning to nothingness.

  Asa stood still on the spot. He could hear his own heartbeat, and the blood that seeped from between his eyebrows flowed slowly down beside his nose, but his skin was not damaged, however, the muscles and blood vessels underneath had already ruptured.

  Sword aura, pure sword aura, without any magic on it, nor does it need magic. Not an assassin, assassins wouldn't use swords like this, this is a true swordsman.

  This is a true master. This person completely blends their breath and movements into those of others, perhaps discovering themselves but not noticing at all. They remain hidden without any impatience, waiting for the best opportunity to strike, revealing killing intent in that instant. If one strike doesn't hit, there's no hesitation or pause, immediately retreating with a clear and decisive mind.

  "What kind of person is that?" Rodhart finally walked over, staring in the direction where the man disappeared. He was completely shocked by this sword, and as a swordsman, he could see the cultivation contained in this sword. He muttered: "This is the last true assassin..."

  "Not an assassin." Asa looked at his palm. His palm was not broken, nor were the tendons and bones injured, only some skin was torn and bleeding. He shook his head and muttered, "Not an assassin..."

  "Why not?" Rodhart wondered.

  "If that sword had been aimed at you, would you have dodged it?" Asa said.

  Rothbart's face turned white, he swallowed a mouthful of water, and replied very firmly: "Dead for sure."

  "Right, you're dead for sure. I absolutely can't block that one sword. Don't forget, you are the real target of their assassination. As long as you die, their mission is complete. My life or death has nothing to do with them. Can a killer with such skills really not have this much judgment? So he's not an assassin targeting you, but rather coming for me." The night in the imperial capital suddenly took on a hint of danger and mystery, making every nerve and thought in him tense up. This feeling even made him a little excited, like a wolf far from the wilderness catching a whiff of blood again.

  Asa walked over and picked up the hilt of the sword that had fallen to the ground. It was just an ordinary longsword, something that could be bought anywhere in the capital. If it were a good sword, one that matched his skill, what would have been the result? His earlier block had already been with all his might.

  Why doesn't this person use his own sword?

  If he wasn't in cahoots with those assassins, how could he have known about and utilized this assassination attempt? And why would he want to kill himself at this time? If he were to die now, what would happen? The Minister's assassination is a huge deal, and if investigated carefully, the origins of these killers would be immediately apparent. The key is that Rodhart would naturally reveal everything in such a situation, and he had indeed squeezed out the Prime Minister's son's position... There couldn't possibly be anyone more suitable as the killer than the Prime Minister, but Asa knew it wasn't him. Who else? Could there really be someone else?

  A Sa sighed and muttered a curse under his breath. But he was also slightly pleased that he had regained some confidence in his intelligence.

  The next day, the Prime Minister was furious when he learned that his nephew had gathered a group of people to take revenge on the new knight who had lost the competition. He scolded his family for producing such a loser. Fortunately, the knight was skilled in martial arts and there happened to be a church official present, so this despicable assassination attempt did not succeed.

  The prime minister immediately petitioned the emperor to pardon the crime of mismanagement, but the emperor was always very understanding and knew that this matter was the behavior of the failed person with poor morals, so he did not blame the prime minister. The prime minister also personally apologized to the knight in front of everyone. As a result, this matter seemed to be resolved peacefully. The prime minister and the excellent knight also established a friendly relationship because of this.

  The Magic Academy held a formal inauguration ceremony for the new High Priest. This high priest was also very young and excellent, and was personally recommended by the Archbishop, which is an unprecedented precedent, and the politicians' keen sense of smell detected this unusual sign. He was also good friends with that civilian hero knight, and the already excited heroic sentiment among the youth was pushed to a new height. If he goes to the battlefield again and achieves merit, it will be even more possible for him to rise to prominence.

  This high-ranking official is about to head to the Western Front immediately, and surprisingly, many of those who came to see him off were princes and high-ranking officials.

  The Duke was naturally indispensable in this gathering, still with his slightly chubby figure, wearing a luxurious outfit, a hat that suited him well on his head, and a sword with gems embedded all over it, looking somewhat gaudy. The smile on his face was the most radiant, the best-looking, and the one that could express kindness and gentleness among all the people present. His originally gentle features were purely friendly, friendly, and even more friendly.

  Under this friendly face, nothing else can be seen. The unseen danger is the most dangerous. If that slightly stout body were to put on a night-traveling outfit, wouldn't it also be able to move as agilely as a flash of lightning in the dark of night?

  The duke came up and shook hands with Asa, wishing him a smooth journey. The duke's palms and fingers were very thick. Such a hand, if it held the sword at his waist tightly, would be what kind of situation? Would it be able to make a strike like a flash of lightning in the clear sky of a mighty river? Just thinking about this made Asa's heart beat strongly, and he even thought about verifying immediately how he would face such a strike head-on.

  But that's clearly not possible, at least not until he finishes dealing with the troublesome Bishop and can regain his former carefree freedom. For now, all he could do was smile and say to the Duke, "Thank you for your concern."

  "It's nothing, it's nothing. To be able to make friends with someone as excellent as you, Your Excellency, is truly my honor. When you return, we will definitely have another chance to get along well." The duke said warmly.

  "What a pity that such a good opportunity didn't last long yesterday evening." Asa whispered in his ear. The duke's eyes looked very strange. Then Asa sighed again and said, "Actually, you don't have to worry, I will never interfere with your business. I'm too lazy to care about these things."

  After more than ten days of galloping horses and cracking whips, Asa arrived in Brakada once again.