For the first time since I had arrived in this world, I allowed myself a moment of solitude.
The night stretched before me, quiet and undisturbed, yet my mind remained restless. This world… it wasn't so different from mine. The streets, the buildings, the people—everything here mirrored what I had left behind. The same greed, the same ambition, the same betrayals lurking beneath carefully crafted masks. So why was I here? What purpose did I serve in this place?
A cold breeze passed through, rustling the loose strands of my hair. My fingers curled slightly at my sides.
And then—
"Shen Zu."
A voice. Deep. Measured.
I stiffened and immediately turned around.
A man stood a few feet away, partially concealed by the dim lantern glow. His posture was unnervingly still, his head tilted downward, making it impossible to see his face. A wide-brimmed hat cast a heavy shadow over his features. He held a black umbrella in one hand, the tip resting against the ground. His clothing was entirely black, blending seamlessly into the darkness of the night.
An uneasy feeling settled in my chest.
"Who are you?" I asked, my voice steady despite the slight chill that crept up my spine.
The man did not answer right away. He merely lifted his head a fraction, just enough for me to see a sliver of his jawline—sharp and ghostly pale beneath the lantern's flickering light.
"You're asking the wrong question," he finally said, his voice as smooth as silk, yet carrying something unsettling beneath its surface.
I narrowed my eyes, scanning the man carefully. The way he stood—calm, collected—told me he had no doubts about his strength. He wasn't just another hired killer sent to finish the job. He was different.
"Then what's the right question?" I asked, my voice steady despite the unease curling in my chest.
Silence.
Then, with deliberate slowness, he adjusted his grip on the umbrella, tapping the handle lightly against his palm. The sound was soft, rhythmic, but somehow unsettling, like a quiet countdown.
"How did you survive?" he murmured, tilting his head slightly, as if the answer was already known to him.
A slow exhale left my lips.
So those men had sent someone to kill me after all.
Pathetic.
"They're getting desperate," I said flatly. "Sending someone like you must mean they're terrified."
The man chuckled, a low, unsettling sound that slithered through the air.
"Terrified? Oh, yes. Quite." His gaze flickered over me, lingering on my gloved hands and the thick fabric covering most of my body. "A mere palace guard," he mused, voice laced with mockery. "Yet they whisper your name as if you were a demon lurking in the dark. I wonder… what did you do to make them so afraid? I heard it was just a touch."
His words slithered into my mind like venom. My fingers twitched instinctively behind me, as if his gaze alone had set them ablaze. I forced myself to remain still, my expression unreadable, but the discomfort curled deep in my stomach.
He had noticed.
"What do you want?" I asked, keeping my tone firm.
The man's lips stretched into a slow, creeping smile.
"Your death," he answered simply, tilting his head. "Or is that too much to ask?"
I didn't blink.
"My death?" I echoed, my voice steady despite the way my pulse thrummed in my ears. Slowly, I straightened my stance, squaring my shoulders. "Unfortunately, that's not in my fate."
The man hummed, amused.
"You sound confident for someone who should be dead."
"Because I refuse to be weak again." My voice was low, sharp like a blade unsheathed. "You can try to kill me, but this time, I won't run. I won't be a coward. Whoever you are, whatever reason you came here for—you will regret it."
For a moment, the night air was thick with silence.
Then, with an eerie grin, the man tapped his umbrella against the ground once more.
"Interesting," he murmured. "Very interesting."
And in the next breath, he lunged.
The moment his foot left the ground, I moved.
His umbrella lashed out first—too fast for an ordinary weapon. I twisted my body just in time, feeling the wind cut past my cheek as the tip of the umbrella narrowly missed my skin. It wasn't just for show. The edges gleamed faintly in the moonlight. A hidden blade.
So that's how he fights.
I didn't hesitate. The moment I dodged, I countered, stepping forward and aiming a punch straight at his ribs. But he was quick—unnaturally quick. He twisted, his cloak flaring behind him, and my fist met empty air.
"Not bad," he mused, his voice almost playful.
I barely had time to register his movements before his knee drove toward my stomach. I gritted my teeth and blocked it with my forearm, but the impact still rattled through my bones. He was strong.
I pushed back, gaining distance, but he didn't let up.
A sharp whistle cut through the night as his umbrella slashed down again, aimed at my shoulder this time. I ducked, barely avoiding the strike, and grabbed onto his wrist before he could recover.
His eyes flickered with mild surprise.
Using all my strength, I yanked him forward and slammed my knee into his side. A solid hit. His breath hitched slightly, but he recovered too quickly, twisting out of my grip like a shadow slipping through my fingers.
"Ah, you are interesting," he chuckled, his grin widening.
I clenched my jaw, already stepping back into a defensive stance.
This wasn't an ordinary assassin. He wasn't just skilled—he was playing with me.
I couldn't afford to let him.
Without a word, I lunged, feinting left before pivoting right, aiming another punch at his ribs. He dodged, but this time, I was faster. At the last second, I twisted my body and struck with my elbow instead, catching him in the jaw.
His head snapped to the side.
For a brief second, there was silence.
Then, slowly, he straightened, his fingers brushing his jaw where I had struck.
And he laughed.
Low, amused, almost delighted.
"You truly are something else," he murmured, tilting his head. His voice was softer now, almost thoughtful. "No wonder they fear you."
I didn't respond. I didn't have to.
I could feel it now—the shift in the air. He wasn't testing me anymore.
This time, he was serious.
The assassin's amusement faded, his grin sharpening into something more dangerous.
"Let's stop playing, shall we?"
He moved.
Faster than before.
I barely had time to react before his umbrella came down again—this time, I couldn't dodge. The blade hidden within the tip sliced through my sleeve, barely missing my skin. Before I could counter, his knee slammed into my stomach, knocking the breath out of me.
I staggered back, my vision blurring for a second.
He didn't let up.
Another strike—this time, the umbrella's handle came down toward my head. I raised my arm to block, but the force sent a sharp jolt of pain through my bones. I clenched my jaw, forcing my body to stay upright.
But he was relentless.
A kick to my side. A quick jab to my shoulder. A well-placed strike to my ribs. Each one precise, calculated, breaking my stance apart piece by piece.
I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to stay standing.
Blood trickled from my lip. My breath came in short, ragged gasps.
He tilted his head. "Are you going to fall now?"
My grip tightened into fists.
No. I wouldn't fall.
I forced myself to move, throwing a punch with all my strength. He sidestepped easily, catching my wrist mid-air.
"Too slow."
Before I could break free, his palm slammed into my chest, sending me crashing onto the dirt road. My back hit the ground hard. Pain shot through me.
I coughed, struggling to push myself up, but his boot pressed down onto my chest, pinning me in place.
"This is disappointing," he sighed. "I expected more from the one they fear so much."
I clenched my teeth, trying to push against his foot.
Was this how it ended? Just like this?
Then—
A sharp whistle. The air shifted.
A blur of motion.
The pressure on my chest vanished as the assassin was suddenly forced back.
I gasped for breath, blinking rapidly as I saw another figure standing where he had been.
Zhang Hao.
His blade gleamed under the moonlight, still dripping with blood.
"Tch," the assassin clicked his tongue, gripping his arm where a fresh wound had appeared. "Who are you supposed to be?"
Zhang Hao didn't answer. His stance was relaxed, but his sharp eyes never left the assassin. "You're making too much noise in my town."
Before the assassin could respond, another voice joined in.
"And you hurt my friend."
Feng Leng.
He stood beside Zhang Hao, his usually playful expression nowhere to be seen. His hands clenched into fists, eyes burning with something sharp and unreadable.
The assassin chuckled, rolling his shoulders. "Two more? This might actually be fun."
Zhang Hao sighed. "Shut up."
Then he moved.
Faster than I could register.
His blade sliced through the air, aimed straight for the assassin's throat.
At the last second, the assassin vanished.
Not dodged. Not stepped back. Just—gone.
Zhang Hao's blade sliced through empty air.
Feng Leng tensed, his eyes darting around. "Where did he—"
A whisper of movement.
I barely had time to react before a chilling presence appeared behind Zhang Hao.
"Too slow."
The assassin's umbrella swung down—
But Zhang Hao twisted just in time, raising his sword to block. Metal clashed against metal, the sound ringing through the empty street. Sparks flew as the two locked weapons.
"You're fast," Zhang Hao muttered, eyes sharp. "But not fast enough."
The assassin only grinned. "We'll see."
Then, the real fight began.
Zhang Hao moved like a storm, his blade striking with brutal precision. Each attack was sharp, calculated—no wasted movement. His footwork was flawless, shifting smoothly between offense and defense.
But the assassin was just as skilled.
He parried every strike with eerie ease, his movements fluid like a shadow in the night. The umbrella, despite looking like an ordinary accessory, was being wielded like a deadly weapon—every flick of his wrist sent sharp, calculated strikes toward Zhang Hao.
Then—
Feng Leng joined in.
With a quick movement, he launched himself forward, his fist aimed at the assassin's ribs.
The assassin barely had time to react.
He dodged, but not entirely. Feng Leng's fist grazed his side, forcing him to stumble back slightly.
"Tsk." He wiped his lip, where a small cut had formed. "Two against one? That hardly seems fair."
"You started it," Feng Leng shot back, smirking. "And Shen Zu's still on the ground, so technically, it's two and a half against one."
The assassin chuckled, shaking his head. "I see."
Then, his eyes landed back on me.
I froze.
For a moment, the air felt heavy—like a predator locking onto its prey.
"We'll finish this another time," he murmured. "You're more interesting than I expected, Shen Zu."
Before anyone could react—
He vanished again.
Like a shadow disappearing into the night.