The two men who stepped cautiously into the room wore simple, light grey robes, each bearing the etched insignia of the Fang Clan on their chests. Their attire was unassuming, yet their demeanor hinted at something more.
The first man was short and round, his clean robes neatly pressed with barely a wrinkle in sight. Despite his stature, his posture suggested readiness, his arms raised in a defensive stance. A faint golden glow shimmered over his palms, betraying his intent to use spiritual techniques. His eyes scanned the room with suspicion, though his narrow focus made him look more like an easy target in Wen Ran's calculating gaze.
The second man was a stark contrast—tall and bulky, his broad shoulders straining against the seams of his servant robes. Resting on his palm was a small, flame-like serpent, its ethereal flicker casting dancing shadows on the walls. The juxtaposition of his intimidating aura and servant's attire puzzled Wen Ran. Perhaps the man had no real talent in battle or cultivation, relegated to menial work despite his physical presence.
As the two men fully entered the room, their movements were cautious and deliberate. They gestured silently to one another to remain quiet, their wary gazes sweeping over the ancient artifacts as though expecting trouble to spring from the shadows.
"Look, the trapdoor is open," the tall man whispered, gesturing toward the opening. He nudged the shorter man with a sharp elbow. "Go on, check it out!"
The short, round man recoiled, his face pale. "Wh-Why me? You're stronger! What if he's waiting down there?" His voice quivered as he glanced nervously at the dark opening, clearly reluctant to take the lead.
Their exchange was almost comical to Wen Ran, a master of battle who had faced far greater threats. Hidden among the shadows, he observed their bickering with quiet amusement as they shoved each other back and forth, neither willing to be the first to descend. Their fear and inexperience were palpable, a stark reminder that neither had the faintest grasp of true combat or survival.
They didn't even notice the footprints scattered across the dusty floor. Wen Ran chuckled inwardly, amused by their obliviousness. For a moment, he had worried they might pick up on something amiss in the room, but their carelessness brought him a wave of relief.
Wen Ran's gaze sharpened as his plan crystallized. Be patient and wait. Once one of them climbs down, I'll silently take out the other.
He shifted his weight slightly, his hand tightening around the hilt of his newly acquired blade. Both of them are in this so-called Spirit Flow stage. Their aura feels similar to Formation Establishment… If that's the case, they should be easy enough to handle.
A faint smirk played at the corner of Wen Ran's lips as he waited patiently, his thoughts cold and calculating. The room seemed to shrink under the weight of his sharp gaze, every movement of his prey falling neatly into his plan.
"I said go!" The tall man growled, shoving the fatty with enough force to make him stumble, nearly tumbling down the trapdoor. His fiery red eyes glinted with a devilish greed, a twisted hunger that made him appear more beast than man.
Wen Ran's smirk faded, replaced by a flicker of disgust. Such behavior… His thoughts turned icy. A cultivator should not possess such a dark dao heart. If left unchecked, it would only lead to corruption—consumed by evil before they even realized their fall.
His grip tightened on the sword, his resolve sharpening like the blade in his hand. Trash like this doesn't deserve to wield power.
The moment the fatty descended carefully into the tunnel, Wen Ran moved. His movements were swift and precise, a sharp contrast to his frail body. The tall man didn't even register the attack until it was too late. A sharp pain bloomed in his throat, and his hands instinctively flew up to clutch the wound.
His eyes widened in horror as he gasped for air, blood spilling through his fingers. Despite his desperate attempts to stem the flow, nothing worked. His fear and panic painted a grim picture, but Wen Ran remained emotionless, watching as the man dropped to his knees before collapsing face-first into a growing pool of his own blood.
Silently, Wen Ran closed the old wooden door, ensuring the scene remained undisturbed. Sorry, but none of you will escape—and no one will miss you, he thought coldly.
Not only had Wen Ran eliminated his target with ease, but he had done so with such precision that not a single drop of blood had marred his body. It was the clean, practiced work of a master.
The fatty stood frozen in place, his round frame trembling as his eyes darted around the dimly lit tunnel. Each flickering shadow seemed to grow larger, making him squeak like a cornered mouse. His palms glowed faintly with spiritual energy, ready for combat—but his stance betrayed his inexperience and fear.
A faint tumble echoed from upstairs, and the fatty jumped, his energy dissipating as his nerves failed him. His trembling intensified, and a foul smell filled the air as his body betrayed his panic. He whispered, "Brother Liu Sheng?" his voice barely audible, a quiver running through each syllable.
When no answer came, he gulped loudly, his breaths shallow. "Brother Liu Sheng!" he called again, slightly louder this time, as he hesitantly stepped toward the ladder. His trembling hands gripped the rungs, and he began climbing, his fear mounting with every step.
Suddenly, something cold and sticky splattered onto his face. Startled, he wiped at it with his sleeve, but as his eyes adjusted to the dim light, his breath caught in his throat. Crimson streaked the fabric, unmistakable in color—blood.
His grip faltered, and he fell back, landing hard on the cold tunnel floor. His wide eyes locked onto the trapdoor above, where a figure loomed like a specter of death. The immense killing intent radiating from the shadow seemed to freeze the fatty in place, his body stiff with terror.
The last thing he saw was the figure descending like a devil god, a black blade gleaming in its hand. The blade pierced through his skull with terrifying precision, ending his life in an instant.
[Congratulations!]
[You have completed your punishment quest]
[As a reward for the swift execution of your task, you will gain one random item]
Wen Ran felt a sudden warmth spread through his hand, the sensation building until a golden light began to radiate from his palm. His heart quickened, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. What will it be? he wondered, the anticipation sparking a flicker of excitement even in his calculating mind.