Sicario snuck out of the Brilliant Sword Sect and traveled the distance without any of his peers noticing. It was obvious that if they had spies in the Myriad Beast Sect, there were bound to be some enemies hidden in their midst as well. His mission could not be jeopardized by any means as his life was the one on the line.
As far as anyone knew, he went into closed-door Cultivation for a while. It was the best excuse when trying to disappear for a bit.
Sicario already made his way to the border, but unlike the guarded line between the Sect and the wilderness outside, there were no guards to watch out for intruders. The area was just too vast, and the Sects didn’t have that much manpower to keep it secured all the time.
He crossed the meadow that was the dividing line and disappeared into the jungle on the other side. Once there, he quickly changed his clothes and wore the attire of an Outer Disciple of a Myriad Beast Sect. He even had a badge to go with it. It was rare for a newcomer to travel so far and die out in the wild, but their hunters stumbled upon a place of bloody murder where they found torn clothes with the badge still attached.
There was no body, obviously, but it was not difficult to imagine what happened to it. The corpse of an Outer Disciple wouldn’t just walk away on its own. Especially with the Beast Tide going on.
But that was months ago. He received everything he needed and as such prepared thoroughly for the strike.
He even borrowed the Soul Breaker blade from one of the Elders. The man used to be a Core Disciple not too long ago and was his Senior and mentor. They were close, that’s why he could even get his hands on such a valuable weapon.
Soul Breaker was a fantastic weapon with no equal among the common Spirit Swords. Each of its cuts could wound even the Soul itself such that even if the body wound itself wasn’t fatal, the damage to the Soul would leave the Cultivator damaged or crippled for life.
Soul wounds were extremely difficult to heal, and until that was fixed, the body would refuse to heal. It was a permanent solution to a thorny problem. Since Cultivators could simply heal themselves completely by sacrificing some Essence, a way to prevent that became invaluable.
A weapon such as the Soul Breaker was perfect for an assassin, which was exactly what Sicario was. He had to pay a great many Spirit Stones to even borrow it for a few days, yet the investment was worth it.
One accurate slash and his job would be done. In and out in a matter of seconds. Easy.
He just needed to find his target first, undetected. That was the hard part.
As he crept through the undergrowth, he suddenly heard a quiet pounding sound at the front. He at first didn’t know the origin of the sound, yet as he came closer, he came face to face with a pair of large yellow eyes.
A beast lay on the floor, clearly sleeping until his presence had awakened it. It stared at him with a hateful frown while the steady sound kept repeating itself. Then he realized it was the sound of a beating heart inside the chest of the massive Black Troll.
The beast slowly stood up and then looked at him from up high while displaying white fangs longer than his arms.
Sicario crouched down and slowly moved backward in an attempt at avoiding combat. He was too deep into enemy territory, he couldn’t afford to call attention to his presence. He had hoped he could travel to his target unnoticed, but clearly, that wasn’t going to happen.
He slowly grabbed the blade and took it out of his sleeve.
The Aura of the Black Troll suddenly flared, and Sicario jumped back just in time as a punch landed on the spot he was standing on just a moment prior, throwing up earth and stones amid the sound of an explosion as if a meteor had just struck the ground.
The Black Troll screeched and beat its chest after realizing it missed while flaring its fangs wide. It then lurched forward and tried to pound Sicario into the ground with its massive fists, the size difference between the two beings like that between a human and a child’s doll.
“Tsk!” Sicario clicked his tongue and silently cursed in his mind. “Stupid beast, as if I would ever let you catch me.”
The Soul Breaker began to glow white and the blade grew, expanding five times in length, from a simple dagger into a longsword.
When the next attack came, Sicario’s Qi flashed through his body, and everything around him slowed down. The fist of the massive ape-like creature nearly came to a standstill, moving through the air as if through honey.
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His foot gently tapped the ground, and in the cloud of dust slowly spreading in all directions, Sicario rose into the air and toward the Black Troll. He landed on its forearm and then took a stroll upward, swinging his weapon as he went. The white blade cut through the Golden Qi protecting the flesh just as easily as the flesh itself, leaving long gashes through the beast’s arm, sometimes even cutting through the solid bone beneath.
The beast screeched in slow motion and tried to slap him off with its other hand, yet he slowly moved out of the way and continued his destruction with not a worry in the world.
The Black Troll’s fate was sealed the moment it threw the first punch, he was just finishing the job.
Sicario was a perfectionist. After disabling both hands, he took a short walk around the creature’s neck, walking in a circle a few times across the shoulders, chest, and back. While he did so, he also held the Soul Breaker tightly in his hands, the blade biting deep into the thick muscle of the Black Troll’s neck.
It took him three trips around to fully cut through, and by then the blood was already starting to gush through the gaps, threatening to drown him in it.
Sicario’s foot tapped the back of the wild beast once, and he was gone, slowly distancing himself from the dead creature. As he landed on the ground, the Qi inside his body receded, returning his awareness and reactions back to normal speed.
The near Spirit Realm beast suddenly collapsed behind him, its hands turned to minced meat, and its head cut off cleanly as a fountain of blood began spraying into the sky, painting the young emerald green leaves red.
Sicario flicked his sword, removing the drops of blood that somehow managed to stick to the blade, and then stored it back into its sheath after deactivating it. He then, giving a light snort, glanced at the pile of flesh that remained of the Black Troll, and then left the scene with quick steps.
The beast was loud in its rampage and probably attracted some unwanted attention. He sped up and disappeared into the undergrowth.
Hours later, when the claws of darkness stretched over the land, he arrived at the edge of the first Formation. It was well hidden and any inexperienced Cultivator would have easily missed it, but Sicario was a professional. He came well-prepared.
A ring on his finger flickered for an instant and his Aura completely changed. From the peak of Golden Core, it dropped all the way down to the beginning stages of Spirit Accumulation. Then his face began changing, the bones themselves shifting around and a muffled grunt escaped his lips as the painful process took hold.
A few minutes later, his face became much younger and looked nothing like before. All the sharpness of his features was gone, and replaced by the roundness of early youth. He became the most average-looking young man, someone who could easily get lost in a crowd.
Sicario breathed a sigh of relief when it was over and wiped the sweat from his brow. He always hated the Bones-Shifitng Art for it was painful beyond belief. And it wasn’t even all that useful. He could barely shift his bones a few millimeters, so only his face would show changes. Luckily for him, that was enough.
He stepped through the invisible barrier of the Formation and felt a presence focus on him. However, just as quickly as it came, it was gone. He subconsciously glanced at the badge on his chest and smirked. Everything was going well.
Soon he came to the first Outer village and looked around. A few people were there, sitting around the fire and joking around, or leaning against the shabby walls of their houses. Sicario internally snorted and continued his search.
He visited many villages as the night became deeper and eventually stopped at a building at the edge of the Inner Sect.
A lone Disciple was sitting there, on a bench, seemingly asleep.
Sicario approached.
“Good evening Brother. It is a cold night, and the moon is bright. Do you perhaps know where I could get a drink, to improve my sight?”
The disciple twitched and nearly jumped up. It seemed he really was sleeping.
“Huh? What? Oh! Yes, Brother, as you say, it is so. Follow me, Brother, for a drink for the Soul.”
The Disciple stood up and gestured for him to follow. They entered the Inner Sect and walked along winding side alleys until they came to a hidden bar, far away from the main road.
They entered, and the Disciple led Sicario into the back after giving the bartender a quick nod. After three knocks on the door, they heard a mechanical click of the lock, and the door opened.
Inside were a few scantily clad girls, two armed guards, and a large man sitting behind a desk, drinking.
They stepped inside and cupped their fists. All were eyes on them, waiting for something to happen.
Sicario was the first to speak, ignoring everyone but the large man.
“That is a nice sword.”
The man straightened his back and his brows furrowed. “It is the only blade I carry.” He then waved his hand. “Leave us.”
Both women and men left at once, the Disciple that brought him included. The door automatically locked itself after closing, and a sealing Formation enveloped the room.
“The call of the sword outshines its beauty.” Sicario calmly said and took a step closer.
“Yeah, yeah… What do you want? It’s not safe for you to be here.” The large man grumbled.
Sicario took two papers from his sleeve and placed them on the table. “I’m looking for these two.”
The large man took them and looked at them for a few seconds, then turned them around and pushed them back. He then took a small Memory Orb and pressed it to his forehead in silence. A minute later he was done and stored it in his pocket.
“Give us three days, we’ll find them.”
Sicario smirked. “Thank you for your services.” He then tossed a small leather pouch on the table and turned around. He pressed on a handprint by the door and the mechanism unlocked and the Formation dissipated. He ordered himself a glass of liquor and then left the bar without another word, disappearing into the darkness.
The man frowned deeply as he watched him leave, and took the pouch. Looking inside, he found five Spirit Stones. He opened his eyes wide but then his frown deepened. He quickly stuffed them all into his pockets. “Damn it! What monster are we looking for?!”
He waved his hand and the door locked itself and sealed him inside.
Sicario retracted his senses and grinned. He could afford to wait three days. But they better not make him wait for four. He took a step and disappeared into the shadows.