Clash

Before the bald, burly man could finish speaking, the searing sword light was already drawing close to his throat like a venomous snake. However, he was an old hand of the Blood Hand Gang after all. In this life-or-death moment, he forced himself to lean back violently while his right hand drew the short dagger from his waist to block upward—

“Clang!”

The sword blade clashed with the short dagger, sending a shower of sparks flying.

The bald man felt a massive force travel down from the blade. His entire arm instantly went numb, and the short dagger almost flew out of his hand.

He staggered backward, his spine slamming heavily against the wooden table behind him, causing the cups and plates to clatter loudly.

Matthew did not pursue. He merely took a step forward, his longsword resting steadily an inch away from the other man's throat.

The faint white halo on the blade had not fully dissipated, radiating a dangerous warmth under the dim light.

“Don't shout,” Matthew's voice was as calm as if he were stating a simple fact, yet it carried an unquestionable coldness. “If you make a sound, the next strike won't stop.”

The bald man's Adam's apple bobbed, cold sweat instantly drenching his back.

He clearly saw half of the intruder's face: his eyes revealed youth and tranquility, with no excitement for slaughter, only a coldness like a deep pool.

This calmness was actually more terrifying than a savage expression. He had no doubt that if he made even the slightest movement, his throat would be pierced immediately.

“I-I won't shout... Mercy, brother!”

The bald man hurriedly lowered his voice, and the short dagger in his hand clattered to the floor with a “clang,” signaling his complete surrender.

Matthew's gaze swept over the staircase in the corner of the hall leading to the second floor, and the tip of his sword pressed down slightly. “Who else is upstairs? How many in total?”

The bald man swallowed hard and spoke at a rapid pace:

“T-Today everyone went out to 'take care of business.' In the building... including me, there are only three!

Aside from me and Old Fourth, whom you just... took care of, only Big Brother is left upstairs!

He-He should be resting in the room at the eastern end!”

As the bald man spoke, he stole a glance at Matthew's expression. Seeing that the other's eyes were as calm as water without any ripples, he hurriedly added, “I wouldn't dare lie to you. Today there really are only three of us...”

Before he could finish, fragments of intelligence provided by Regg flashed through Matthew's mind like lightning.

The boss of the Blood Hand Gang—Stefan.

A notorious name that had dominated the grey areas of the outer city for many years. Although the intelligence did not trace his origins in detail, it sketched out a clear outline:

His background was unknown, but he was suspected to have escaped from a mercenary group in the chaotic eastern region in his early years, arriving in Jin County Seat about fifteen years ago.

Relying on his ruthless methods and solid Silver Rank strength, he had managed to turn the Blood Hand Gang from a street-level gang of thugs into a powerful force that dominated the western district of the outer city, with its tentacles even quietly reaching into the inner city.

Matthew understood perfectly: a mere warrior from a mercenary background could never establish a foothold in the inner city's villa district on his own.

There was bound to be the tacit consent or even support of noble forces behind this. But even so, being able to operate to this extent in the cracks between multiple factions was already enough to show this man's extraordinary methods and temperament.

A veteran Silver Rank—this was by no means an exaggeration. The intelligence showed that Stefan had entered this realm at least ten years ago, with a stable cultivation and a deep foundation.

He excelled at wielding a steel flail with a heavy counterweight ball. In his hands, the weapon could crush everything like a heavy hammer, or use the chain to execute sinister techniques of wrapping, twisting, and locking. Combining hardness with flexibility, it was incredibly difficult to deal with.

What concerned Matthew even more was the description of Stefan's personality in the intelligence: this man rarely showed his emotions, acted decisively, and was adept at assessing the situation.

Like an old wolf lurking in the shadows, he was calm and patient. Once a threat was identified, he would pounce and kill in the most direct and effective way—whether through negotiation, bribery, or complete destruction.

Fortunately, only he was left, otherwise it might have been a bit troublesome...

“Hero, I've told you everything I know. I'm just a gatekeeper. Please show some mercy... and let me go.”

He indeed did not dare to lie to Matthew.

The aura of death emanating from the sword's edge was so real that the bald man knew well that any lie at this moment could instantly cost him his life.

Matthew came back to his senses. Hearing the word “gatekeeper,” the corner of his mouth couldn't help but curl into a faint arc.

How could anyone stationed in this stronghold within the inner city's villa district be an ordinary “gatekeeper”? He was bound to be a core member of the Blood Hand Gang. If Matthew hadn't slipped in quietly, seized the absolute initiative, and happened to catch these two off guard due to alcohol and negligence, it probably wouldn't have been so easy to deal with them so cleanly.

However, he did not intend to dwell on these minor details. In his eyes, the bald man before him was already no different from a corpse.

Just as Matthew was about to question him further, he suddenly caught a glimpse of the bald man's peripheral vision darting extremely quickly and imperceptibly toward the upper diagonal behind him.

What flashed in that gaze was not despair or begging, but a hint of fear mixed with a sort of... hope?

Matthew's heart suddenly jolted!

Something was wrong!

Almost at the exact same instant, a cold sense of crisis pricked the back of his neck like a needle. Without hesitation, the Silver Rank life energy within his body surged violently, and his 【Feathering】 combat technique was triggered instinctively! His speed, reaction, and perception soared to their peak in an instant, and everything around him seemed to suddenly slow down—

“Swoosh—Pfft!”

A sharp sound of tearing air grazed past his ear, followed immediately by the dull thud of a sharp object piercing flesh.

Matthew's figure had already shifted seven or eight feet to the side like a ghost. At the spot where he had just stood, a dark iron arrow was deeply embedded in the floorboard, its fletching still trembling.

As for the bald man, he was shot through the heart from behind by the very same arrow, which protruded from his chest, pinning him to the wooden table behind him.

His eyes bulged, disbelief and confusion lingering on his face. He opened his mouth, but only bloody froth gushed out. Then his head slumped to the side, and his breath ceased completely.

Matthew slowly turned around, his gaze like lightning as he shot a look toward the shadow at the corner of the second-floor staircase where the arrow had come from.

A figure was slowly lowering the longbow in his hand, stepping out of the shadows.

The dim light of the corridor wall lamp fell on his face, revealing a countenance that was not unfamiliar to Matthew—

It was none other than Scarface, who had personally apologized to Matthew at the training hall.

Only at this moment, there was not a trace of anger or grief on Stefan's face for his slain companion.

He looked at the bald man pinned to the table, a very faint hint of... regret? passing through his eyes.

As if he were merely lamenting the loss of a somewhat handy tool.

But this regret vanished in a flash, replaced by a heavy, solemn vigilance.

His gaze locked firmly onto Matthew. In particular, Matthew's incredible dodging speed just now made his fingers gripping the bow tighten involuntarily.

...

...