Expel Tigers; Swallow Wolves . . .
"I shall now announce the first reward, and it shall be bestowed immediately," Cha Eun Xiao declared, his hands remaining steadfastly behind his back. He faced away from the multitude of assassins congregated beyond the wall, speaking in a measured tone. "I hereby declare the first reward. Tonight, some among you have successfully taken the lives of numerous Ling-Bao Hall disciples. For those who have slain my men, I shall offer a bounty of one hundred million taels of silver for their heads. Perhaps you find this reward less enticing. Allow me to extend an additional promise: I shall disburse the payment as soon as the reward is claimed."
His gaze turned somber and unwavering. "Nevertheless, this reward is subject to a time limit. It shall endure only for the duration of this night. After tonight, any among you who fails to pursue this bounty shall forfeit their eligibility to participate in Ling-Bao Hall's reward events indefinitely."
Cha Eun Xiao's pronouncement held a note of solemnity. Feng Monarch's insight proved accurate. The sum of six billion was undeniably alluring, yet it was a prize destined for only one individual. For the rest, their prospects would be no more than survival in this fierce contest. The question loomed: why would they stake their lives on such a meager chance?
The allure of Ling-Bao Hall's bounty had, up until now, seemed irresistible. To a casual observer, the difference between six billion and one hundred million was indeed negligible. Both were riches that an ordinary person could scarcely fathom spending.
However, the difference lay in the probability of success.
One night.
A mere night.
One opportunity, within the span of a single night.
This singular prospect was too precious to relinquish.
Cha Eun Xiao's words had upended the situation, sending shockwaves through the assembly.
The decision of Feng Monarch had undeniably opened their eyes to the mesmerizing power of money.
Money had a pervasive sway, capable of subjugating both mortal and divine entities. The allure of wealth could weaken the most stalwart moral convictions if the price was sufficiently enticing.
Cha Eun Xiao pondered this notion and stated it confidently, in a manner that appeared almost unbelievable.
It was not a matter of mere conjecture. There was no room for uncertainty or supposition. In reality, no one in the world possessed greater wealth than Feng Monarch of Ling-Bao Hall.
A sense of foreboding gripped many assassins, and they discreetly began to retreat.
Over half of those who had killed Ling-Bao Hall disciples fell victim to Cha Eun Xiao's poison, with a fortunate minority surviving. These survivors lingered within the crowd, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.
The pronouncement by Feng Monarch threw their calculations into disarray.
"Have I squandered my good fortune by surviving the poison?" many of them silently questioned.
Their fellow assassins had already set their sights on these individuals, their gaze more ferocious than when directed at Feng Monarch himself.
One of them stepped forward boldly, blocking the path of a comrade, a sinister smile playing on his lips. "Wang Liu! Where do you think you're headed?"
Wang Liu was a formidable assassin, responsible for the demise of two accomplished Ling-Bao Hall disciples in Liu Changjun's group. Confronted with the blockade, he had a keen sense of what was expected of him.
"None of your concern! Get out of my way!" Wang Liu responded, his determination unwavering as he attempted to surge forward.
Cha Eun Xiao's thoughts were no longer consumed by the six billion. His primary desire was to escape this perilous situation and to survive. In this dire moment, survival was a priceless stroke of fortune.
Yet, perhaps Wang Liu had already exhausted his share of good luck.
"None of my business? How can you say that? Your life is worth a hundred million now!" The assassin didn't bother concealing his intent to kill. With lightning swiftness, he brought his blade down.
Simultaneously, other silent assassins edged closer, brandishing their weapons with lethal intent.
Wang Liu's scream was abruptly cut short as crimson blood sprayed from eight separate locations on his body. The assassin before him deftly swung his broadsword, causing Wang Liu's head to soar into the air, where it was seized by his executioner. Triumphantly, he proclaimed, "This head is mine!"
Several other assassins regarded him with disdain, their eyes smoldering with displeasure. In the realm of assassins, the division of spoils was sacrosanct. Regardless of the bounty, no one was permitted to seize the rewards of another. This was a fundamental and unassailable rule in the world of assassins, rigorously adhered to by all. Any transgression against this code was an open declaration of enmity against all assassins, a challenge to their collective order.
This rule had the effect of maintaining equilibrium, justice, and mutual respect within the assassins' society.
Before long, the chorus of screams resumed. Over twenty assassins met their grisly end, their heads summarily separated from their bodies.
One assassin, masked and holding a severed head, addressed Cha Eun Xiao with cold detachment. "Will you honor your word, Feng Monarch?"
Cha Eun Xiao snorted, his response dispassionate. "It's a trifling sum. Why not? Lower the head. I intend to offer it as a sacrifice to my fallen comrades. Wan Zhenghao!"
His voice rang out, calling forth Boss Wan, who appeared despite his portly frame.
"Dispense the payment!" Cha Eun Xiao's tone remained chilly and solemn. "One head, one hundred million. Debts must always be settled."
Wan Zhenghao obliged, producing a thick stack of banknotes from his spatial ring. Each of the twenty-seven assassins received their reward in silence.
Their reactions were strikingly muted. With their remuneration secured, they leapt into the air and vanished into the night.
Unexpectedly, the situation had taken a dramatic turn.
These assassins were now in possession of a considerable sum of money, and it dawned upon them that this was no trifling amount. They were left with few expectations in life after tangling with Feng Monarch. It had seemed highly probable that they would not survive the night, yet here they were, alive and wealthy. This good fortune had an unprecedented weight in their hearts.
As they departed, a sense of relief washed over them. For the first time, they were free from the shadow of this enigmatic and deadly adversary.
Apart from the twenty-seven assassins, one more figure vanished into the night: Yin Yucheng, the enigmatic Ghost Hand, the fifth-ranked assassin. His departure went largely unnoticed, save for a few discerning individuals—Ning Biluo, Zhao Pingtian, and the Boundless Saint—who observed his retreat in contemplative silence.