The Bai Clan estate slept beneath the hush of midnight.
Moonlight painted the rooftops in silver, while the faint hum of protective arrays echoed gently over the walls—a formation that was normally impenetrable.
But tonight?
Tonight, blood had been paid to breach it.
A ripple tore silently through the air.
And just like that… the barrier flickered once, dimmed—and died.
A breath later, shadows slipped through the trees, their presence like oil staining silk.
Fast. Coordinated. Professional.
Ten figures in total—silent assassins, draped in black robes embroidered with faint, shifting runes.
Suppression arrays lined their sleeves, tailored specifically to avoid detection by even the senses of a Void Refinement Cultivator.
Their leader, a masked man marked with a golden sigil across his brow, carried a short blade wrapped in multiple sealing talismans.
His cultivation: Peak Spirit Severing.
“Kill the targets. Leave no trace!”
He ordered coldly, his voice warped with spiritual distortion.
There was no need to clarify names.
Each jade slip pulsed with engraved instructions bearing either Bai Zihan or Bai Xinyue.
Five assassins peeled away, led by the leader, vanishing toward Bai Xinyue’s quarters without another word.
The remaining five—led by another masked killer—sprinted toward the inner courtyards reserved for the Bai Clan’s direct descendants.
Their destination?
Bai Zihan’s residence.
They moved like wraiths through the dark—slipping through courtyards and leaping across tiled roofs without so much as a whisper.
Even the guards didn’t notice.
The assassins stopped outside a lavish and well-kept pavilion, nestled among ornamental trees and reflective ponds.
A wooden plaque swung gently from a post.
“Bai Zihan’s Courtyard!”
The leader signaled.
Two men spread to block the exits. One scaled the roof. The other two advanced through the garden with weapons drawn.
The leader followed behind with steady steps.
Inside, Bai Zihan appeared to be asleep—sprawled on a jade bed, a loose robe on his frame, a book covering his face.
The curtains swayed faintly in the night breeze.
Without hesitation, the first assassin lunged forward, blade gleaming in the moonlight.
He moved with perfect silence—fast, deadly, and precise. A single thrust aimed at Bai Zihan’s heart.
Shhk!
The blade plunged deep into flesh.
Or so it seemed.
The body on the bed twitched once. Blood sprayed across the sheets.
The other assassins didn’t lower their guard, but a few of them exhaled—just slightly.
“That’s it?”
One of them muttered under his breath, eyes scanning for hidden traps.
No alarm. No resistance. Just a clean kill?
It was almost too easy.
“I hoped the infamous Bai Zihan would have a trick or two up his sleeve… but looks like everyone overestimated him.”
The lead assassin stepped closer, raising two fingers to signal a swift extraction.
But then—
Tick.
A soft, metallic click echoed beneath their feet.
All five froze.
They looked down.
Carved into the stone floor beneath the bed was a glowing formation—previously hidden under an illusion.
Runes lit up one by one, forming a spinning sigil laced with explosive Qi.
The “body” on the bed—now melting into ash—was nothing more than a high-grade puppet filled with blood and stuffed robes.
“Formation trap!”
The lead assassin cursed.
BOOM!!!
A blinding explosion erupted from the center of the room.
But this wasn’t a simple blast.
It was a Qi-infused chain reaction, woven with suppression and explosive talismans—specifically designed to trap and cripple cultivators.
The entire courtyard detonated in a sphere of golden light and crimson fire.
The blast incinerated the bed, shattered the pavilion, and vaporized two of the five assassins before they could even scream.
The shockwave blasted the others into the stone walls, fracturing ribs and tearing muscle.
And then—chains of spiritual light surged from the burning formation, binding the survivors mid-air and dragging them down like prey caught in a spider’s web.
From above, a voice rang out—soft and lazy.
“Well, that was easier than I thought.”
Bai Zihan stood atop a nearby rooftop, arms crossed.
His hair was slightly tousled, night robes fluttering in the breeze, but not a single wound marked his body.
He hadn’t even been in the room.
“Well, that took long enough,” he muttered, cracking his neck. “I was beginning to wonder if you were skipping out.”
He wasn’t asleep.
He had known the moment the outer barrier flickered.
The Remnant Soul had warned him.
At first, two of them assumed the assassins would go for Bai Xinyue. That would’ve made more sense—she had the Immortal Emperor’s Inheritance, after all.
But when the shadows divided and veered toward his pavilion instead… it became obvious.
He was also one of the targets.
As the assassins froze mid-step, Bai Zihan gave them a lazy glance.
“Let me guess… Li Clan? Zhao Clan? Demonic Sect? Or perhaps some assassination group that works for whoever pays best?”
The masked leader didn’t respond.
Instead, he flicked his wrist.
Three talismans flew through the air—each sealing a pulsing black crystal.
Bai Zihan’s eyes narrowed.
“Explosive talismans? Cute! Somebody came prepared.”
BOOM!!!
The courtyard vanished in a burst of red light.
The blast ripped through trees, collapsed walls, and vaporized half a dozen guards.
But when the smoke cleared—
A golden barrier shimmered calmly in the debris.
Bai Zihan stood at its center, brushing ash from his sleeves.
“Waste of time!”
He raised his hand slowly.
The Eternal Spirit Sword beside him trembled—then shot forward like bolts of divine lightning.
CRASH!
One pierced the rooftop, dragging the assassin hiding there into the sky—then slammed him into the earth with a thunderous boom.
The second curved like a serpent, slipping through layered defenses, and cleaved through a protective barrier before slicing into another assassin’s ribs.
“Two down!”
“One left!”
Bai Zihan muttered, his voice cold now.
It seems like the assassins underestimated him too much and sent their weakest five while their strongest had gone to Bai Xinyue’s residence.
After falling into his trap, their strength was shattered—they couldn’t even endure a flick of Bai Zihan’s hand.
“D-Damn!”
The lead assassin realized too late—
They weren’t here to hunt Bai Zihan.
They were the ones being hunted.
Bai Zihan stepped forward, his shadow long beneath the moonlight.
“All right,” he said, his smile razor-sharp.
“How about a bargain? You tell me who sent you and I will give you a painless death?”
He descended slowly toward the shattered courtyard.
The lead assassin—injured but still conscious—gritted his teeth and tried to draw another talisman.
Too late!
SWISH!
Bai Zihan’s swords vanished—then reappeared instantly in front of the man’s wrist, slicing the limb clean off.
The assassin collapsed with a groan, clutching the bleeding stump where his wrist had once been.
Bai Zihan landed in front of him, boots crunching on shattered stone.
The Eternal Spirit Sword hovered ominously beside his head, humming with restrained power.
“You’ve got about ten seconds to start talking,” Bai Zihan said, voice low and calm.
“I’m in a generous mood tonight. You tell me who sent you, and I might even make it quick.”
The assassin spat blood, glaring through the cracked lens of his shattered mask.
“I’ve heard it all before,” Bai Zihan said, crouching down to eye level. “Loyalty, vows, soul-binding contracts. All that righteous martyr bullshit.”
He reached out, grabbing the assassin by the collar and yanking him upright with one hand.
“But here’s the thing—”
A wave of Qi surged through his palm and into the man’s body, flooding his meridians with searing pain.
“—I’m not asking nicely.”
The assassin’s body convulsed as Bai Zihan poured more pressure into the technique, his Qi locking down the man’s dantian.
Veins bulged across his neck, and blood trickled from his ears, but he still didn’t scream.
Still didn’t speak.
Not even a grunt.
“Stubborn bastard, huh?”
Bai Zihan said, narrowing his eyes.
“You really think you’ll die with dignity?”
He shifted his stance, ready to increase the intensity of the pain.
But just as he prepared to do it—
The assassin smiled.
A twisted, blood-stained grin.
And his Qi—
Flared.
Bai Zihan’s eyes widened.
All over the assassin’s skin, beneath the tattered robes, runes began to glow—crawling like worms across his chest, arms, and even his face.
“Shit!”
Bai Zihan shot backward in a blur.
“You will get nothing from me!”
BOOM!!!
A dome of crimson light erupted from the assassin’s body as the explosive formation detonated from within.
The blast was smaller than the previous courtyard detonation but more focused—targeted, like a blade.
The shockwave tore a crater into the stone. Ash, bone fragments, and Qi residue scattered into the air like black snow.
Bai Zihan landed several meters away, golden light shielding his body.
He stood there in silence, dust settling around him, smoke curling through the night.
His sleeves were scorched. A small gash lined his cheek.
He wiped it absently with his thumb, then looked down at the still-burning crater where the assassin had been.
“Self-destruction? That’s some next-level fanaticism.”
He clicked his tongue.
“Would’ve been nice if you just gave up.”
But there was nothing.
No corpse. No clue.
Just silence and the crackle of ruined stone.
Bai Zihan stood alone in the destruction, expression darkening.
“…Tch! Annoying.”
He turned, his robes fluttering as he walked away.
And then his gaze lifted, sharp once again.
Because five assassins had come for him.
And the other five were going after Bai Xinyue.
“Perhaps their mouths are loose!”