Despite all the excitement and the nerves, there was still time left to burn. Which reasonable person would commit murder in broad daylight? The night was just a thematically better choice. Thus, Jun once again settled into his routine. His morning always began with staring a hole into the painting, but this time, he approached it with a different mindset.

“It is I, the Human Emperor. I love killing poor, innocent animals. Mwahahaha.”

What was a better way of gaining epiphanies than character roleplay? In his daydreams, he wielded unimaginable power, and not a single being under the heavens could oppose him. He slaughtered thousands with every flick of his sleeve.

“Where there is life, there must be death.” Jun wisely nodded to himself, pretending to be enlightened. When nothing happened, he angrily took a bone from his storage pouch and snapped it in half. It was quite a sad scene.

Then, he went on with his day. After staring at at the painting, it was time for self-torture. This time, he chose a different, more secluded spot, which meant that a huge crowd of kids would be left disappointed. After making sure he lost half of his intelligence from bashing walls, he went on to have formation lessons. The rest of the time was spent drawing formations for his customers, revelling in the capitalist society.

‘I can’t believe I ever doubted the system. What’s better than being rich?” He laughed, wiping away his worries with spirit stones.

When evening arrived and Chen Hao finally came back from work, it was time to put things into action. They once again ran through all the details of the plan, and He Ming intensively quizzed the boy on what he would do if things went wrong. According to him, any unexpected events would lead a first-time killer to panic and make countless fatal mistakes.

Gradually, the inn quieted down and the patrons went to their rooms. Chen Hao descended to the basement and grabbed his supplies. When he emerged, he looked like a completely different person. Tight-fitting black leather armour, made from the skin of a Midnight Panther, covered every part of his body. A black cloth mask was tightly wrapped around his mouth and nose, leaving exposed only his almost-black eyes. A folded, metal fan was tied to his waist, and next to it were several small, brown pouches, tightly secured so that not even air could get in.

“Here. As we discussed. For helping me with the previous mission.” He Ming said, handing the boy a curved dagger. The handle was covered in scales, and a single, green line ran through the middle of the black metal. “I’m expecting it back.”

Despite Chen Hao’s determination and preparations, his hands still shook when he received the dagger. He nervously stretched his body, warming up his limbs. Then, he looked at Jun.

“Don’t you fucking dare. I will bite your fingers off,” Jun menacingly barked, performing evasive manoeuvres.

“Why is he always like this? Do you mind watching over him when I leave?” Chen Hao asked, likely experiencing deja vu.

“You have a valuable asset and you’re not going to use it? You must have a death wish.” He Ming smirked, approaching the dog. Jun bared his teeth at him.

“Actually, I’ve prepared a little present for him.” With that said, he pulled out a dog muzzle.

“Whoa! Stay back! I’m not into BDSM.” Jun barked, but despite his best efforts, he couldn’t escape the proficient assassin. Soon enough, an almost airtight mask was over his nose and mouth. It was surprisingly comfortable. He recognized the material as some sort of magical spider silk.

“My freedom of speech!” he shouted, his voice barely audible to the rest of the world. For all his protests, it was a lovely gift. He did not fancy holding his breath for minutes on end.

“He won’t be able to help. I’m being practical here,” Chen Hao tried to reason with logic, but He Ming only clicked his tongue.

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“The dog is smarter than you. Besides, who do you think is more important? An assassin clad in black or a random dog?”

“I just want him to be safe...” Chen Hao’s words trailed off.

“Then you better do the job correctly.”

The two spent more time arguing, completely ignoring Jun’s opinion, which made him gnash his teeth in anger.

‘If I want to tag along, not even Buddha will be able to stop me.’

The conversation died down, leaving the inn silent. In the corner, the chef was sitting on a chair, sharpening his knives. The man did not have any words for the two of them, but he was ready.

“Half an hour. No more. Now, go.” He Ming said, opening the back door to let the duo out. No words of encouragement, no best wishes or good luck. He truly believed they would succeed.

As they stepped outside, a gust of wind howled through the alley, chilling Jun to the core. He was not ready for this. The body tempering techniques were still unmastered, and no grand epiphany had hit him yet. Each step made him doubt the plan more and more until he slowed and his head turned back to the inn.

“It’s going to be fine,” a voice by his side whispered. The wind that washed over his body went still.

Chen Hao’s steps were silent. Typhoon Steps was a technique all about adding wind to your movements, but He Ming had taught him the opposite. Now, the boy stalked through the shadows with barely a noise. His breathing was slow and steady, and his steps were light as to lessen the vibrations. He moved through a route he had planned a thousand times.

The woman’s house was located in a residential area. Tight rows of identical stone buildings ran close to each other, creating tight alleyways that prompted shady activities. The butcher’s putrid stench of meat, blood, and death was easily distinguishable from the rest, and it led them straight to her house.

Standing before the stone door, Chen Hao acted quickly. He opened one of the pouches and pulled out a glass vial containing a colourless liquid. Angling the vial, he flicked it so precisely that only a single drop shot forward, landing on the door. Immediately, the stone began to sizzle, and as it did, a web of engraved lines appeared out of nowhere, broken only in the spot the potent acid had touched.

Similarly, the boy used the acid to melt the lock before quietly opening the door. Before them stood a common room, a dining room, and a kitchen, all in one. A lush carpet muffled Jun’s steps as they stepped inside. Without wasting any time, Chen Hao used a few more drops of acid to destroy hidden formations. Then, he opened his second pouch, revealing fine, grey powder.

Slowly and carefully, he began applying it to every surface, spreading it evenly throughout the large room. The big dining table, the stone counter featuring dozens of exquisite knives, the shelves that housed a dizzying amount of fine ingredients—none were left without dust. Even the carpet they were stepping on got a dose.

Further ahead, a door blocked their path. Jun’s breath caught in his throat. If nothing had gone horribly wrong, she would be there. The scent of anxiety from Chen Hao doubled, but his hands were steady. Another drop of acid on the door and beneath it, breaking the twin-layered formations. The woman was paranoid, but she relied too much on magic. Jun would have installed mechanical traps as well.

Quieter than any mouse had ever been, he swung the door open, revealing the already familiar room. The massive fireplace and the shadow candles constantly clashed with each other, giving the place an eerie ambience. The spiritual force in this room was triple that of outside as a qi formation beneath their feet worked overtime.

Most of the room was taken up by a super king-sized bed, and in the middle of it was a massive woman, curled up and clutching a thick woollen blanket. Her snores reverberated through the room. For a moment, Jun had the sensation they were in a massive cavern, standing before a sleeping dragon. He finally realised what the “good omen” from the water mirror was. Powerful cultivators did not have to sleep often. On every day that Chen Hao got a bad feeling, she was meditating, still aware of her surroundings. Today, she was sleeping.

Chen Hao did not sneak around once he was in the room. Instead, he walked almost carelessly, his dagger still sheathed by his side. Tense seconds passed, and just as he was about to reach the woman, she stirred in her sleep, which made the whole room freeze. Jun did not dare to breathe. His heart paused, and then beat with twice the intensity. Muttering something incomprehensible, the woman scratched her back before drifting back to sleep.

Four more steps led the boy to the side of the bed. Up until now, he had not been holding his weapon. Then, in one sudden, fluid motion, almost so fast that Jun didn’t see it, he drew the dagger and stabbed down, aiming for her throat. His killing intent was focused and mastered—he was merely putting the dagger down, and her body was conveniently in the way. She was nothing more than a pig to be slaughtered. All that stood between life and death was a single moment.

A moment short enough to kill somebody. A moment long enough for someone's eyes to snap open.