The woman was as thin as a bamboo pole, wrapped in a tattered gray robe.
The robe was exceptionally baggy, covering her completely from head to toe.
Not even her eyes, nose, or face were visible.
One could only barely discern a human shape from the silhouette of the robe.
It was very strange.
The hunters rose instantly, their weapons unsheathed as they quickly spread out into a surrounding formation.
The scar-faced man's gaze was sharp, and his perception spread out like an invisible net, covering the woman.
One second.
Two seconds.
He furrowed his brows.
There were no energy fluctuations.
There was no mana flow and no trace of battle force.
She seemed like... a complete and utter ordinary person.
But could an ordinary person appear here silently?
And carry a blood-soaked bag filled with the heads of elves?
In mid-air, Lin Gui looked at Eve.
Eve's brow was locked tight, her purple eyes staring fixedly at the woman below.
Aside from healing, those of the priest class often minored in perception-type magic.
And the Saintess's attainments in this field...
Even exceeded those of Theia and Lin Gui.
At this moment, Eve's perception was like the finest comb, sweeping over the woman again and again.
Ultimately, she slowly shook her head, her voice carrying confusion:
"I cannot perceive any energy emission..."
"She is just like... an ordinary person."
Even as she said those words, she didn't believe them herself.
Eve's gaze fell on the blood-soaked bag the woman was carrying.
The mouth of the bag was open, and several elven heads were clearly visible inside.
The cuts were frighteningly clean.
Not a single jagged edge remained, as if they had been completed in an instant with the sharpest of blades.
The expressions on the heads were frozen in their final moments.
Terror, despair, dilated pupils.
Eve carefully observed the edges of the wounds.
The cross-sections of muscle and bone were smooth to an almost eerie degree.
There were no tears caused by struggling, and no traces of secondary cuts.
"This wound..."
"Or rather... some kind of extreme cutting skill."
"Is absolutely not something an ordinary person could achieve."
Listening to this, Lin Gui's brow furrowed deeper.
An extreme premonition of ill omen surged into his heart without warning.
Below.
The scar-faced man stared at several familiar faces inside the blood bag.
When he saw the elven "mole"...
His pupils suddenly contracted.
The other party possessed the strength of a High-tier Transcendent, yet their head had been taken so easily.
The scar-faced man asked.
"Who are you?"
The gray-robed woman moved slightly.
From beneath that robe came a raspy, dry voice that was filled with deep arrogance:
"Who am I?"
She chuckled low twice.
"Are you people even worthy of asking?"
"My name is not something little brats like you can mention."
The woman's arrogance instantly enraged all the hunters present.
Blades glinted coldly under the firelight.
Several hot-tempered hunters lunged forward a step, their battle force and mana surging as they were about to attack.
"Don't move!"
The scar-faced man barked a sharp command, stopping them.
He stared fixedly at this bizarre woman, fine beads of cold sweat seeping from his forehead.
His instincts from years of living on the edge were screaming.
Danger.
Extreme danger.
He forced down the chill in his heart and pulled a forced smile:
"Friend... for what reason have you suddenly visited?"
"We can talk."
The gray-robed woman tilted her head, and a low, raspy laugh came from under the robe:
"For what reason?"
"My hands are just itching. I wanted to slaughter a few people... to practice my blade."
The scar-faced man's scalp felt numb.
His gaze quickly swept over the blood bag in the woman's hand, then looked toward the numbed Night Elves in the cages behind her.
A guess suddenly surfaced in his mind.
"If... it's because of these elven slaves..."
The scar-faced man gritted his teeth, his speech quickening.
"I will release them right now."
"I swear, I will never touch the elven business again from this day forward."
"We will bear all the losses ourselves."
"Consider it making a friend, how about it?"
"Boss!"
A young hunter couldn't help but shout:
"How many gold coins did we spend for this shipment?!"
"Just buying these few old ones cost nearly four million!"
"Then there's the money to bribe the insiders and the route fees!"
"Shut up!"
The scar-faced man whipped his head around, his eyes bloodshot.
"Say one more word and I'll slaughter you first!"
The young hunter's face turned pale, and he didn't dare utter another sound.
The scar-faced man turned back, looking nervously at the gray-robed woman.
The woman was silent for a moment.
She slowly turned her head, looking at the three iron cages covered in black cloth.
Her gaze seemed to penetrate the black cloth, falling upon those numb, despairing Night Elves.
Then, she chuckled low.
The laughter was filled with undisguised.
Irony.
"Release them?"
"These... weak and incompetent wastes who don't even dare to resist?"
Her voice was raspy, like sandpaper rubbing together.
"Betrayed by their own kin, captured by humans, and they don't even have the courage to commit suicide."
"Only knowing how to shrink back in a cage, trembling and waiting for death."
"Trash like this..."
She paused, the chill in her tone almost condensing into physical substance.
"Is also worthy of me making a dedicated trip?"
Inside the cages, the bodies of several elves trembled imperceptibly.
A faint, weak light finally welled up in their hollow eyes.
It was humiliation.
It was also despair and helplessness.
The woman looked at them and smiled coldly.
"I should actually thank you all."
The irony in her voice was almost overflowing.
"For helping me..."
"Screen out these weak and incompetent cowards of our race one by one."
"As thanks—"
She paused, and the aura beneath her robe suddenly changed.
"I will let you all... go without any pain."
Before her voice had even finished falling.
A terrifying killing intent, like a physical ice pick, exploded instantly!
The air seemed to freeze.
The flames of the campfire were suppressed until they were almost flat against the ground.
The faces of several hunters turned deathly pale, and even their breathing stagnated for a moment.
"Blood Butcher!"
The scar-faced man roared hoarsely.
A figure that had almost blended into the shadows suddenly lunged out!
The speed was so fast it carried an ear-piercing sonic boom.
The dagger turned into a streak of faint green poisonous light, thrusting straight toward the woman's back!
The timing, angle, and speed were all at the level of a top-tier assassin.
The battle force condensed on the tip of the blade even tore through the air.
However.
The woman only lightly leaned her body to the side.
The movement was so small it was almost invisible.
She raised her right hand, her five fingers closing like she was threading flowers.
She accurately gripped Blood Butcher's wrist that was holding the dagger.
"Crack."
The sound of bone breaking was crisp.
Blood Butcher's pupils contracted sharply. He wanted to break free, but he found that the strength in his entire body seemed to have been drained empty.
The woman's left hand pressed down accordingly, and something instantly plunged into his chest.
Blood Butcher's body stiffened.
The light in his eyes quickly dissipated.
"Thud."
He slumped to the ground, losing all sound.
The entire process took less than two seconds.
The woman let go, pulling that poisoned dagger from Blood Butcher's stiff fingers.
She tossed it aside casually.
Then, she opened her left hand.
Lying in her palm was a long, thin, more-than-ordinary...
Bloody wooden stick.
"A Transcendent assassin?"
She looked down at Blood Butcher's corpse, her voice filled with disappointment.
"Your breathing while prowling was as heavy as a bellows."
"Your killing intent leaked out during your advance, for fear that others wouldn't know you were coming."
"Poisoning your dagger? The method of the weak."
She raised her eyes, her gaze sweeping over the pale-faced hunters.
"Let me show you all..."
"What a true 'assassination' looks like."
The moment the words fell.
The sky-filling killing intent vanished instantly.
Along with it, her figure disappeared into thin air.
"Back to back!!"
The scar-faced man shouted hoarsely, a trace of a tremble already present in his voice.
"Mage! Find her position!"
The mage suddenly raised his staff, his perception fully activated.
Mana spread out like a tide.
Nothing.
She was nowhere.
There were no energy fluctuations, no temperature changes, and even the airflow was normal.
It was as if that woman... didn't exist at all.
"Up—Up above?!"
A hunter looked up sharply, but there was nothing.
"To—To the left?!"
Another hunter turned to the left, but there was only drifting snow outside the window.
Fear was like cold vines, wrapping around everyone's hearts.
"Pfft."
A soft sound.
The body of the young hunter standing at the outermost edge stiffened.
He lowered his head.
He saw a wooden stick being slowly pulled from his chest.
There was no blood.
There was only the coldness of sudden cardiac arrest.
He opened his mouth as if to say something.
But he directly pitched forward.
Dead.
"The first one."
The woman's voice drifted from an unknown location.
It was light, as if she were counting.
"The second one."
"Chop."
A section of another hunter's neck caved in.
His eyes went wide, and he fell straight down.
The sudden deaths of their comrades instantly shattered the hunters' sanity.
One after another, blades and magic attacked the surroundings indiscriminately.
However, it did nothing to block the woman's voice, which sounded like an underworld judge delivering a death sentence.
"The third one."
A wooden stick pierced a warrior's temple.
It was so fast he didn't even have time to scream.
One by one.
The hunters fell silently like wheat being harvested.
Every time she appeared, and every time she disappeared.
There was no warning.
There were no traces.
The mage frantically waved his staff, laying down layers of shields.
The priest sang desperately, a healing halo covering the area.
It was useless.
The wooden stick always appeared from the most impossible angles.
Passing through the gaps in the shields and bypassing the edges of the halo.
It would tap on a certain fatal, subtle pressure point.
And then.
Life would be extinguished.
"The eighth one."
The woman's voice remained calm.
It even carried a hint of... boredom.
The scar-faced man leaned his back against his final companion, cold sweat pouring off him like rain.
The hand holding his dagger was trembling.
His breathing was an utter mess.
As an assassin, he was proficient in concealment, ambushes, and one-hit kills.
But this woman before him...
She wasn't assassinating.
She was teaching.
Using the most brutal method to tell him.
How laughable everything he took pride in was.
His skills were not even worth mentioning in her eyes.
"The ninth one."
The final companion's body went soft, and he slid to the ground.
His eyes were wide, and he had died with a grievance.
Now, only the scar-faced man remained.
Scattered all around were corpses.
Eerily, no blood seeped from them.
The opponent's assassination had directly bypassed the human body's complex and massive blood system, reaching the fatal points directly.
The scar-faced man leaned against the cold stone wall, his dagger held across his chest.
His pupils shrank to the size of pinheads.
Every inch of muscle across his body was tensed to the limit.
Then.
He saw her.
The woman stood three paces in front of him.
He didn't know when she had appeared.
The gray robe was still wrapped tight.
The wooden stick in her hand was unstained by blood.
"You see."
She said softly, as if critiquing him.
"Fear will make your muscles stiffen."
"Disorganized breathing will expose your position."
"Shifting eyes indicate that you are looking for an escape route."
She paused, the wooden stick pointing casually at the hand he used to hold his dagger.
"You can't even hold your weapon steady..."
"And you call yourself an assassin?"
The scar-faced man opened his mouth.
He wanted to roar, he wanted to counterattack, and he wanted to fight to the death.
But his throat seemed filled with ice shards.
Not a single word could be forced out.
Only the clicking sound of his teeth chattering was exceptionally clear in the deathly silent snowy night.
Fear was written all over the scar-faced man's face, and his body shook like a sieve.
But those eyes were staring fixedly at the woman's every subtle movement.
Thirty seconds.
In just thirty seconds, all his subordinates were wiped out.
This woman's assassination skill was terrifying to the point of being suffocating.
It even exceeded all the Legendary assassins he had ever seen.
But.
He had secretly observed a key piece of information.
That was, the power level she displayed...
Would absolutely not exceed Legendary.
There was no protective qi, and no domain pressure.
As long as she wasn't a Legendary.
He had a chance.
The scar-faced man constantly and deliberately amplified the fear in his heart, allowing it to be continuously expressed through his limbs.
He even fell to his knees with a thud, tears and snot streaming down his face:
"Have—Have mercy... I'll give you anything..."
The woman indeed let out a light scoff.
That arrogant attitude of playing with her prey filled the scar-faced man's heart with wild joy.
He shuffled half a step forward on his knees, his head buried even lower.
But in his mind, he was screaming frantically:
Just a little closer...
Just a little closer will be enough!
The woman indeed did as he wished.
She paced forward, and a mocking whisper came from beneath the gray robe:
"Wastes are just was—"
Now!
The scar-faced man's kneeling body suddenly erupted!
The battle force of his entire body was instantly condensed at the tip of his dagger!
The faint green cold light tore through the air.
"Pfft!"
The dagger stabbed into the "chest" beneath the gray robe without any obstruction.
A hideous expression of wild joy exploded on the scar-faced man's face.
"I got you!!"
He laughed hoarsely, giving the dagger a vicious twist.
"You were careless, weren't you?! You bitch."
The laughter came to an abrupt halt.
Because he heard...
The woman's light chuckle.
It wasn't a scream, and it wasn't a muffled groan.
It was the kind of... interested light laughter as if she were watching a bug struggle.
The smile on the scar-faced man's face instantly froze.
He felt like he had fallen into an ice cellar.
"A decent strike."
The woman critiqued calmly.
"The timing, angle, and explosive power are all top-tier."
"A pity."
She raised her hand, grabbing the edge of the gray robe.
She gave it a light tug.
The robe slid to the ground.
Revealing the body beneath that...
Was completely empty.
The dagger was still stabbed into the location of the "chest."
But it was as if it were stabbed into thin air, with no point of resistance.
The scar-faced man's pupils shrank to pinheads.
A—A spirit?!
"You..."
A bizarre rasping sound came from his throat.
The woman looked down at the dagger stabbed into her soul body.
She reached out and lightly "pulled" it out.
The movement was as casual as plucking a leaf.
"A decent disguise, a decent design."
The irony in her voice was so thick it couldn't be dissolved.
"A pity that I have long since ceased to be an ordinary person."
She raised her hand, and the wooden stick in her hand emitted a piercing cold light.
The scar-faced man wanted to dodge.
But his body seemed nailed to the spot.
He could only watch on.
As the same method the opponent had used to kill all his companions fell upon him.
There was no pain.
There was no impact.
There was only a darkening of his vision, followed by a descent into a prolonged darkness.
At the final moment, he heard the woman say softly:
"The tenth one."
"Two left."
The scar-faced man's body swayed.
And then he fell straight back.
His eyes were still open.
Frozen within them were extreme shock and bewilderment.
The woman didn't even look at the corpse on the ground.
She turned around and looked toward mid-air.
The robe had fallen away.
At this moment, she was merely a spirit that could not be observed through ordinary means.
She raised her hand and curled her finger lightly toward the direction of Lin Gui and Eve.
"You've seen enough, haven't you?"
"It's your turn."
Lin Gui's Eyes of the Netherworld quietly gazed at the woman below.
Or rather.
That elven spirit.
She possessed the peerless beauty typical of an elf.
Her features were exquisite like a sculpture, and her skin emitted a faint purple glow.
Her hair fell like a waterfall, appearing thick even in her soul body state.
Her frame was tall and slender, with perfect proportions.
Even as a soul body, one could see the agile and elegant posture she possessed in life.
But what could not be ignored most.
Were her eyes.
That pair of eyes was staring coldly toward the direction where Lin Gui was located.
There was no emotion in her gaze.
No anger, no killing intent, and not even any curiosity.
There was only a high-and-mighty, almost indifferent...
Scrutiny.
As if she were looking at two insignificant objects.
Or...
Two bugs that had luckily escaped disaster.
Rate on N.U.
