The woman was as thin and tall as a bamboo pole, wrapped in a tattered gray robe.
The robe was exceptionally wide, completely covering her from head to toe.
Not even her eyes, nose, or face were visible.
One could only barely discern a human shape from the outline of the robe.
It was incredibly bizarre.
The hunters rose instantly, their weapons unsheathed, as they quickly fanned out to encircle her.
The scar-faced assassin's eyes grew sharp, and his perception spread out like an invisible net, sweeping over the woman.
One second.
Two seconds.
He frowned.
There were no energy fluctuations.
No mana flow, no trace of battle force.
She seemed like a complete and utter ordinary person.
But how could an ordinary person appear here so silently?
Much less carry a blood-soaked sack filled with elven heads?
In mid-air, Lin Gui looked at Eve.
Eve's brow was furrowed, her purple eyes locked onto the woman below.
Aside from healing, the priest class often minored in perception-type magic.
And the Holy Saintess's attainments in this field...
surpassed even those of Theia and Lin Gui.
At this moment, Eve's perception swept over the woman repeatedly like a fine-toothed comb.
Ultimately, she slowly shook her head, her voice laced with confusion.
“I can't perceive any energy emanating from her...”
“She really is like... an ordinary person.”
As she said this, even she found it hard to believe.
Eve's gaze drifted down to the blood-soaked sack the woman was carrying.
The mouth of the sack was open, and several elven heads were clearly visible inside.
The cuts were terrifyingly clean.
There was not a single jagged edge, as if they had been severed in an instant by the sharpest blade imaginable.
The expressions on the faces were frozen in their final moments.
Panic, despair, and dilated pupils.
Eve carefully examined the edges of the wounds.
The severed muscle and bone were unnaturally smooth.
There were no tears from struggling, nor any signs of a second cut.
“These wounds...”
“Or rather... some kind of ultimate cutting technique.”
“They are absolutely not something an ordinary person could achieve.”
Listening to her, Lin Gui's frown deepened.
An intense premonition of danger welled up in his heart without warning.
Below.
The scar-faced assassin stared at the familiar faces inside the blood-soaked sack.
He spotted the elven “insider” among them.
His pupils shrank.
The elf had possessed High-tier Transcendent strength, yet their head had been taken so easily.
The scar-faced man asked.
“Who are you?”
The gray-robed woman moved slightly.
From beneath the robe came a raspy, dry, yet intensely arrogant voice:
“Who am I?”
She let out a low chuckle.
“Are you lot even worthy of asking?”
“My name is not something you little runts are fit to utter.”
The woman's arrogance instantly enraged all the hunters present.
Blades glinted coldly in the firelight.
A few hot-tempered hunters lunged forward, their battle force and mana surging as they prepared to strike.
“Nobody move!”
The scar-faced man barked sharply.
He stared intently at the bizarre woman, fine beads of cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.
His instincts, honed from years of living on the edge, were screaming.
Danger.
Extreme danger.
Forcing down the chill in his chest, he squeezed out a strained smile.
“My friend... what is the purpose of your sudden visit?”
“Perhaps we can talk.”
The gray-robed woman tilted her head, a low, raspy chuckle echoing from beneath her hood.
“My purpose?”
“My hands were just itching to slaughter a few people... to keep my blade sharp.”
The scar-faced man's scalp went numb.
He scanned the blood-soaked sack in her hand, then looked at the numb Night Elves in the cages behind her.
A sudden realization flashed in his mind.
“If... this is because of these elven slaves...”
The scar-faced man gritted his teeth and spoke faster.
“I'll release them right now.”
“I swear I'll never touch the elf trade again.”
“We'll bear all the losses ourselves.”
“Let's call it making a friend, what do you say?”
“Boss!”
A young hunter couldn't help but cry out.
“Do you know how many gold coins we spent on this shipment?!”
“Just buying these guys cost us nearly four million!”
“Not to mention the money to bribe the insider and the route fees!”
“Shut up!”
The scar-faced man whipped his head around, his eyes bloodshot.
“Say one more word and I'll gut you myself!”
The young hunter paled and shut his mouth.
The scar-faced man turned back, looking nervously at the gray-robed woman.
The woman remained silent for a moment.
She slowly turned her head toward the three iron cages draped in black cloth.
Her gaze seemed to pierce right through the cloth, falling upon the numb, despairing Night Elves inside.
Then, she let out a low chuckle.
Her laughter was filled with something completely undisguised.
Mockery.
“Release them?”
“These... weak, incompetent pieces of trash who don't even have the courage to resist?”
Her voice was raspy, like sandpaper scraping together.
“Betrayed by their own kin, captured by humans, and they don't even have the courage to commit suicide.”
“They just huddle in their cages, shivering and waiting for death.”
“Garbage like this...”
She paused, the chill in her voice almost solidifying.
“Is it even worthy of making me take a special trip?”
Inside the cages, several elves trembled almost imperceptibly.
A faint glint finally flickered in their hollow eyes.
It was humiliation.
It was also despair and helplessness.
The woman looked at them and sneered.
“Actually, I should thank you all.”
The irony in her voice was practically overflowing.
“For helping me weed out these weak, incompetent cowards of my clan...”
“one by one.”
“As my thanks—”
She paused, and the aura beneath her robe suddenly shifted.
“I will make sure your end... is entirely painless.”
Her voice had not even faded yet.
a terrifying murderous intent, cold as ice, exploded outward!
The air seemed to freeze solid.
The campfire's flames were pressed down almost flat against the ground.
The faces of several hunters turned pale instantly, their breathing halting for a brief second.
“Blood Butcher!”
The scar-faced man roared.
From the shadows, a figure that had almost completely merged with the darkness suddenly lunged!
He moved incredibly fast, kicking up a deafening sonic boom.
His dagger transformed into a toxic green streak, driving 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 merely tilted her body slightly.
The movement was so minimal it was almost invisible.
She raised her right hand, her fingers snapping shut like a blooming flower.
She accurately pinched the Blood Butcher's wrist holding the dagger.
Crack.
The sound of bone shattering was crisp.
Blood Butcher's pupils shrank as he tried to break free, only to find his strength completely drained.
Seizing the opportunity, the woman pressed her left hand down, driving something into his chest in an instant.
Blood Butcher's body stiffened.
The light in his eyes quickly faded.
Thud.
He collapsed to the ground, lifeless.
The entire process had taken less than two seconds.
The woman released her grip, sliding the poisoned dagger out from the Blood Butcher's stiff fingers.
She tossed it aside carelessly.
Then, she opened her left hand.
Resting in her palm was a long, thin, utterly ordinary...
bloody wooden stick.
“A Transcendent assassin?”
She looked down at the Blood Butcher's corpse, her voice dripping with disappointment.
“Your breathing during stealth is as heavy as a bellows.”
“Your killing intent leaks out during your dash, as if you're terrified others won't know you're coming.”
“A poisoned dagger? The tool of the weak.”
She raised her eyes, her gaze sweeping over the pale-faced hunters.
“Let me show you...”
“what real 'assassination' is.”
The moment her words fell.
the overwhelming killing intent vanished instantly.
Along with it, her figure vanished into thin air.
“Back-to-back!!”
The scar-faced man shrieked, his voice carrying a tremor.
“Mage! Find her position!”
The mage raised his staff, fully opening his perception.
Mana spread outward like a tidal wave.
Nothing.
She was nowhere to be found.
No energy fluctuations, no temperature changes, even the airflow was perfectly normal.
It was as if the woman didn't exist at all.
“A-Above?!”
A hunter whipped his head up, but there was nothing there.
“T-The left?!”
Another hunter turned to the left, but only falling snow lay outside the window.
Fear wrapped around everyone's hearts like icy vines.
Pfft.
A soft sound echoed.
The young hunter standing on the outermost edge stiffened.
He looked down.
He saw a wooden stick slowly sliding out of his chest.
There was no blood.
Only the icy sensation of his heart stopping.
He opened his mouth, trying to speak.
but fell straight forward instead.
Dead.
“First.”
The woman's voice drifted from some unknown place.
light and airy, as if she were simply counting.
“Second.”
Crack.
Another hunter's nape caved in.
His eyes widened, and he collapsed.
The sudden, silent deaths of their comrades instantly shattered the hunters' sanity.
They began lashing out with blades and magic indiscriminately in all directions.
Yet, nothing could stop the woman's voice, which sounded like a judge passing sentence.
“Third.”
The wooden stick pierced a warrior's temple.
It was so fast he didn't even have time to scream.
One after another.
the hunters fell silently like wheat before a scythe.
Every time she appeared and disappeared.
happened without any warning.
There were no traces left behind.
The mage waved his staff frantically, erecting layer after layer of shields.
The priest chanted desperately, a healing aura enveloping the area.
It was useless.
The wooden stick always appeared from the most impossible angles.
It slipped through the gaps in the shields and bypassed the edges of the aura.
striking precisely at a microscopic, fatal pressure point.
And then.
life would be extinguished.
“Eighth.”
The woman's voice remained calm.
even carrying a hint of... boredom.
The scar-faced man stood back-to-back with his last remaining companion, cold sweat pouring off him.
The hand holding his dagger was trembling.
His breathing was completely erratic.
As an assassin, he excelled in stealth, ambushes, and one-hit kills.
But this woman...
She wasn't just assassinating them.
She was teaching.
She was showing him in the most brutal way possible.
how laughable everything he took pride in truly was.
His skills weren't even worth mentioning in her eyes.
“Ninth.”
His last companion went limp and slid to the ground.
his eyes wide open in death.
Now, only the scar-faced man was left.
The ground around him was littered with corpses.
Strangely, not a single drop of blood pooled from them.
Her strikes had bypassed the body's complex circulatory system entirely, targeting only the fatal points.
The scar-faced man backed against the cold stone wall, holding his dagger across his chest.
His pupils shrank to pinpricks.
Every inch of his muscles was tensed to the absolute limit.
And then.
he saw her.
The woman stood just three paces in front of him.
He had no idea when she had appeared.
Her gray robe was still wrapped tightly around her.
The wooden stick in her hand was completely clean of blood.
“Look,”
she said softly, as if offering a critique.
“Fear stiffens your muscles.”
“Erratic breathing betrays your position.”
“Your shifting eyes show you're looking for an escape.”
She paused, gesturing casually toward the hand holding 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, to strike back, to fight to the death.
But his throat felt as though it were stuffed with ice.
He couldn't utter a single word.
There was only the chattering of his teeth.
with eerie clarity in the dead silence of the snowy night.
Fear was written all over the scar-faced man's face, his body shaking like a leaf.
Yet, his eyes remained glued to her every microscopic movement.
Thirty seconds.
In just thirty seconds, his entire crew had been wiped out.
This woman's assassination skills were suffocatingly terrifying.
They surpassed those of any Legendary assassin he had ever encountered.
But.
he had noticed one critical piece of information.
The level of power she displayed...
did not exceed the Legendary Rank.
There was no protective qi, no domain pressure.
As long as she wasn't a Legendary expert.
he had a chance.
The scar-faced man deliberately exaggerated his terror, letting it show through his posture.
He even collapsed to his knees with a heavy thud, tears and snot streaming down his face.
“S-Spare me... I'll give you everything...”
Sure enough, the woman let out a soft sneer.
Her arrogant attitude, treating him like a plaything, filled him with wild joy.
He shuffled forward half a step on his knees, bowing his head even lower.
His mind was screaming in frenzy:
Just a little closer...
Just a little closer!
The woman did exactly as he hoped.
She strolled forward, a mocking whisper drifting from beneath her gray robe.
“Trash is always tra—”
Now!
The kneeling scar-faced man lunged upward like a coiled spring!
Every ounce of his battle force instantly converged onto the tip of his dagger!
The toxic green light tore through the air.
Squelch!
The dagger sank into the “chest” beneath the gray robe without any resistance.
A look of ecstatic ferocity erupted on the scar-faced man's face.
“I got you!!”
He laughed hysterically, twisting the dagger viciously.
“Lowered your guard, didn't you?! You stupid bitch.”
His laughter died instantly.
Because he heard...
the woman's soft chuckle.
It wasn't a scream of pain, nor a muffled groan.
It was an amused chuckle, as if she were watching an insect struggle.
The smile on the scar-faced man's face froze instantly.
It felt as if he had been plunged into an abyss of ice.
“A decent strike,”
the woman evaluated calmly.
“The timing, angle, and explosive force were all top-notch.”
“Too bad.”
She raised her hand and grabbed the edge of her gray robe.
With a gentle tug.
The robe slid to the ground.
revealing...
an empty space beneath.
The dagger was still embedded in the “chest” area.
but it felt as if it had pierced empty air, finding no purchase whatsoever.
The scar-faced man's pupils shrank to pinpricks.
A s-spirit?!
“You...”
A strange, rattling noise escaped his throat.
The woman looked down at the dagger lodged inside her spectral body.
She reached out and gently “pulled” it out.
her movement as casual as plucking a leaf from a branch.
“A nice disguise, a decent setup,”
her voice thick with sarcasm.
“Unfortunately, I am no longer a living being.”
She raised her hand, and the wooden stick in her grip flashed with a blinding, cold light.
The scar-faced man wanted to dodge.
but his body felt as if it were nailed to the spot.
He could only watch helplessly.
as the exact same strike that had slain his comrades fell upon him.
There was no pain.
No impact.
Only a sudden blackout, followed by an endless plunge into darkness.
In his final moment, he heard the woman murmur:
“Tenth.”
“Two left.”
The scar-faced man's body swayed.
Then, he fell straight backward.
his eyes still open.
Frozen within them was an expression of ultimate shock and bewilderment.
The woman didn't even spare a glance at the corpse on the ground.
She turned her head, looking up into the air.
Now that her robe had been cast aside.
she was nothing more than an unobservable spirit.
She raised her hand, pointing in the direction of Lin Gui and Eve.
and gently curled her finger.
“Watched enough?”
“It's your turn.”
Lin Gui's Eyes of the Netherworld quietly observed the woman below.
Or rather.
the elven spirit.
She possessed the classic, peerless beauty of an elf.
Her features were as exquisitely carved as a sculpture, her skin radiating a faint violet glow.
Her hair fell like a waterfall, appearing thick and lush even in her spectral state.
Her figure was tall and slender, with perfect proportions.
Even as a spirit, her elegant and agile posture from when she was alive was clearly visible.
But the most impossible thing to ignore...
was her eyes.
Those eyes were staring coldly in Lin Gui's direction.
There was absolutely no emotion in her gaze.
No anger, no killing intent, not even curiosity.
Only a high-and-mighty, almost indifferent...
scrutiny.
As if she were looking at two insignificant objects.
Or perhaps...
two insects that had managed to escape by a stroke of luck.
Rate on N.U.
