Dawn in Qinghe City did not arrive with warm golden light, but rather as a suffocating blanket of damp, cold gray mist. The sky remained pitch-black when Lin Ye slipped from Safe House Gamma, his footsteps silent upon roof tiles slick with condensation. Time was no longer an abstract concept; it was a blade pressed against his throat. Merchant Chen operated for only one hour after dawn before the mortal market swelled with bodies and sect scouts began their methodical sweeps. To be late was to fail. To fail meant network access would be severed for a month—an eternity for someone already hunted by the heavens.He reached the Eastern Market precisely as the temple bell tolled the dawn hour. This place was the antithesis of the Dark Market; there were no concealment formations, no suppressed cultivation auras masking predatory intent. It was purely, chaotically mortal: vegetable sellers shouting prices, butchers cleaving bone, cloth merchants haggling over silk, and farmers bearing bask

Lin Ye breathed out—for the first time since dawn. His body was weary, yet not with physical exhaustion, but the mental fatigue of maintaining unwavering vigilance. Deep within his chest, the black jade throbbed with a calmer rhythm. Mo Yuan had said nothing about the ambush earlier. But Lin Ye could feel his silent assessment: You passed. Barely. As he turned to leave, his gaze caught something in the corner of the room—a faint mark upon the wall, nearly invisible, drawn in faded ink. A cleaved crescent moon, identical to his own identity token. Beneath it lay a single number: 7. Seven. What did it mean? The seventh member? The seventh mission? Or… the number of those who had failed before on similar assignments? Lin Ye stared at the symbol for several moments, then turned and vanished down the bookstore’s corridor. Questions would have to wait. For now, something far more pressing remained: reporting his mission success to Shen Kui. And perhaps finding out why a rogue assassin

The night sky grew darker still — not from gathering clouds, but from the presence of something that swallowed light itself. Master Gu extinguished every flame in the hut, leaving them in utter darkness. Only the corrosive patter of acid rain drumming against the tin roof broke the silence. Lin Ye stood pressed into a corner, holding his breath. Within him, Mo Yuan trembled violently, sending a warning of grave peril. “He is strong,” the jade whispered. “Early Core Formation realm. Yet his aura… is broken. Eroded by the Void.” Without warning, the northern wooden wall blasted inward. Splinters flew like shrapnel. Through the swirling dust stepped a tall, slender figure clad in a sleeveless black robe that revealed a coiling serpent tattoo winding across every inch of skin. A half-skull iron mask concealed his face. This was the Eighth. The Executor. “Gu,” the Executor’s voice rang out — cold, echoing strangely as though spoken from two mouths at once. “Surrender, and you choos

They were carried along by the current for nearly an hour before finally being cast ashore on the riverbank beyond Qinghe’s borders. The rain had ceased, replaced by a cold morning mist. Lin Ye’s limbs felt heavy — the lingering after-effect of absorbing such massive amounts of toxin, even with Mo Yuan’s aid. Master Gu lay sprawled on the sand, coughing up black phlegm. “We… we made it,” he whispered weakly. Lin Ye sat beside him, checking the black jade at his chest. It felt warm, sated after “feeding” on the poison. Yet he knew this was no permanent solution. His mortal flesh still had limits. “Where are we?” Lin Ye asked. “Fengshui City,” Master Gu replied, nodding toward the distant silhouette of a tall, walled city. “A neutral ground. Here, the Shadow of the Abyss holds no power. You could vanish.” Lin Ye gazed toward Fengshui. Vanish? That was what Shen Kui had wanted. But something felt wrong. Why send him to Master Gu if the mission was so perilous? Had Shen Kui meant to

The air in the room turned instantly frigid. Valerius’s smile vanished, replaced by a flat, vacant expression far more terrifying than any rage. He did not strike at once. He merely observed Lin Ye, as though studying an insect that had suddenly learned to speak. “What a pity,” Valerius murmured. “I had hoped you would be more rational than your predecessors.” He made a slight motion with his index finger. The floor beneath Lin Ye’s feet turned fluid — not water, but thick, clinging solid shadow. Lin Ye tried to leap, yet his legs were trapped. The darkness rose swiftly, coiling around his ankles, then his waist, dragging him downward. Lin Ye swung the Nullification Sword, shearing through the shadow-bindings. The iron blade severed part of it, but the shadow knitted itself together again, stronger than before. This was no ordinary elemental magic. This was high-order reality manipulation. “Cute toy,” Valerius remarked, drawing nearer once more. “Mortal iron against cosmic essence