Lu Feng’s mind spun as the first assassin slumped lifelessly into the dirt. The blood pooled warm around his boots, but his stomach did not turn, nor did his hands tremble. It shocked him because before now, he had never taken a life before, and now that he did, he didn’t hesitate. The absolute calm within his chest felt unnatural, yet his body hummed with a quiet, lethal readiness driven by the Primordial Chaos Bead.
However, despite his shock, he didn’t delay for much. The moment his eyes caught movements from the other two assassins who were now moving to eliminate him, his body moved again. It was a life-or-death situation, and his body knew that if he didn’t act, he would be the next to die, in probably a more gruesome manner than the man he’d just killed, so it moved before he could will it.
"Die, you little rat!" the second assassin snarled, lunging forward with a rusted iron sabre aimed straight for Lu Feng’s neck.
He dodged their counterattacks and countered with attacks of his own. The heavy blade whistled past his ear, the wind of its passing cold against his skin, but Lu Feng was already stepping inside the man’s guard.
He pushed one of them away and, pulling his dagger free from the first corpse, he attacked the second attacker, ducking under the man’s attack and stabbing the man’s left chest, the dagger finding its way into the man’s heart.
The man gasped, his eyes bulging wide with absolute disbelief as dark red spilled over his lips. Lu Feng wrenched the blade free with a wet, sickening tear, not pausing to watch him fall.
He pulled it out immediately and went for the last of the three men. He took the weapon from the second man and attacked.
They fought for a second or two, Lu Feng’s body moving faster than he had believed was possible. He hadn’t known he could move this way until the fight started, and that was what made it easy for him to end his fights with one attack. He simply aimed for very dangerous spots, and because of his speed, his attack landed before his enemy could either evade or block it.
The third assassin swung a wild, desperate mace, aiming to crush Lu Feng’s skull into pulp. Lu Feng slipped beneath the arc of the heavy weapon with effortless grace, his mismatched eyes gleaming coldly in the moonlight.
Lu Feng then stabbed his dagger into the third man’s eye.
There was a painful scream, but he ignored it, and with the second man’s weapons, he ended the life of the third. A swift, brutal twist of the stolen sabre severed the assassin’s windpipe, cutting the agonizing shriek off into a wet gurgle.
Silence rushed back into the clearing, broken only by the distant sounds of battle echoing from the front of the convoy. Lu Feng stood chest-heaving, staring down at the three bodies scattered around his boots. His breathing was remarkably steady, his internal Qi cycling smoothly through his meridians as if congratulating him on his first real bloodshed.
Deep within the dark tree line, the bandit leader heard the scream and frowned. He was instantly pissed off. Three of his men had lost their lives. That was unexpected. He had brought forty seasoned killers, men who had slaughtered entire merchant caravans without losing a single drop of sweat, yet a single target in the woods had just quietly butchered a three-man scouting party.
"Idiots," the leader muttered under his breath, his face twisting into a savage snarl as he turned away from the distant carriage fires to glare into the shadows.
There were still thirty-seven left, so he sent seven to check the same area those three had just checked. He gestured sharply with a gloved hand, calling over a fresh group of veterans.
"You seven," the leader commanded in a harsh, venomous whisper, pointing an iron-clad finger toward the dark canopy where the screams had originated. "Go find out what happened to the vanguard scouts. If there is a rat out there playing games, bring me his head on a spike. Do not make me come looking for you."
They were ordered to kill on sight, and they went ahead with the intent to fulfill that order. They fanned out into a disciplined combat formation, their leather armor creaking softly as they stepped over the roots and fallen branches, their broadswords unsheathed and glinting with a lethal sheen under the scarce moonlight.
What they didn’t know was that their opponent was faster and stronger than them. Beyond that, he could see clearer, and so he saw them approaching.
Lu Feng, standing deep within the velvet shadows of an ancient weeping willow, watched their advance as if they were moving in slow motion. Every detail—the slight limp of the fourth man, the nervous twitch of the fifth man’s grip on his hilt, the precise rhythm of their breathing—registered in his mind with terrifying clarity. The Primordial Chaos Bead hummed gently in his lower abdomen, radiating a steady, cooling current that kept his nerves completely ice-cold.
This gave him the room for preparation and hiding when needed. He didn’t rush out to meet them head-on. That would be foolish, even with his newfound physical enhancements.
Instead, he slipped silently backward into a thick cluster of thorny bushes, his dark robes blending seamlessly with the night. He waited, letting the seven assassins push deeper into the clearing, their boots crunching carelessly over the very leaves where his previous victims lay.
The leader of the seven held up a fist, signaling his men to halt just a few paces away from Lu Feng’s hiding spot. The man sniffed the air, a frown touching his scarred brow as the metallic scent of fresh blood hit his nostrils.
"Spread out," the leader of the seven whispered, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the dark brush. "He’s close. Keep your eyes—’"
Before the man could finish his warning, Lu Feng struck.
He materialized from the darkness directly behind the rearmost assassin, moving with a silent, terrifying speed that defied human limits.
Before the man could even register the shift in the air pressure, Lu Feng’s hand shot out, clamping tightly over the assassin’s mouth while his newly acquired broadsword drove straight through the man’s back, piercing his lung and exiting out his chest with a sickening crunch of breaking ribs.