The dim interior of the Black Market shop reeked of incense and secrecy. Manager Tong stood deferentially beside Zhao Ling’er, who studied a mission scroll with narrowed eyes.
"Timed assassinations require precision," she mused, her voice cool. "The target is a second-tier warrior, but his bodyguard is fourth-tier. Classify it as medium difficulty."
Tong bowed, stamping the document with a crimson seal. The door creaked open, and a shadowed figure cloaked in black entered.
"State your alias," Tong demanded.
"Jing Ke." The distorted voice echoed beneath the steel mask.
Zhao Ling’er’s gaze sharpened. The mystery man who cleared yesterday’s task in hours. Her initial intrigue faded as he requested another low-tier job.
"All local assignments are exhausted," Tong apologized. "The nearest is five hundred li away in Qingyang Town."
The masked figure hesitated.
"However…" Tong’s smile turned sly. "We have a timed mission here in Tianwu City. Medium tier. Reward: one million taels."
Behind the mask, Lin Hao’s pulse quickened. One million. Enough to evolve Wolf Spider twice over.
"Details."
Zhao Ling’er interjected, her tone edged with warning: "The kill must occur precisely when the Underground Bazaar’s lights extinguish tomorrow night. Fail the timing, forfeit payment."
"Payment ready when I return." The masked figure snatched the mission scroll.
As the door slammed, Zhao Ling’er frowned. Arrogant fool. Fourth-tier swordsmen don’t die easily.
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Outside, Lin Hao reviewed the scroll through the Fly’s compound eyes:
Target: Ma Feiyu
Age: 25
Rank: Second-tier warrior
Entourage: Li Kun, fourth-tier swordsman
Location: Underground Bazaar Exchange Center
Window: Year 9986, 7th month, 5th day. 20:00 hours, during blackout.
A timed kill during a blackout? Orchestrated chaos. Lin Hao’s lips curled. The spoiled Ma heir’s reputation for brutality made this assassination morally palatable—and financially irresistible.
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Fifteen thousand taels weighed heavily in his sleeve as he entered a smithy. Molten metal hissed in crucibles. A dwarf blacksmith, beard singed at the edges, hammered a glowing blade.
"I need micro-armor," Lin Hao rasped. "For an insect."
The smith paused, squinting. "You mocking me, stranger?"
Gold notes slapped the anvil. "Five-millimeter chest plate. Adamantine alloy. Now."
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Nightfall found Lin Hao back in his chambers. The Kung Fu Fly tested its new armor—a shimmering carapace that turned dagger thrusts into sparks. Wolf Spider lurked in shadows, venom sacs plump.
Ding! Host’s preparation for timed mission detected. Contracted creatures gain +20% coordination during synchronized strikes.
He smiled. Let Li Kun parry swords. How would he counter a hyper-envenomed spider drop-kicked by an armored fly?
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Zhao Ling’er paced her moonlit courtyard, unease prickling her spine. Shadow Falcons had lost the masked man’s trail near the slums. Who are you, Jing Ke?
Far below her gilded pavilion, in the city’s bowels, the Underground Bazaar’s lanterns flickered. Merchants hawked forbidden relics. Ma Feiyu laughed, tossing coins at chained dancers.
None noticed the metal-masked figure observing from rafters, a fly perched on his shoulder, a spider coiled in his palm.
Time ticked toward darkness.
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Forging Armaments
The dwarf blacksmith’s forge hummed with heat as Lin Hao observed silently. The clang of hammer on steel echoed rhythmically, each strike precise.
“Dwarven craftsmanship,” Lin Hao mused, recognizing the race’s legendary metallurgical prowess. Walls lined with failed sword prototypes spoke of exacting standards—discarded blades piled like metallic bones.
When the dwarf finally quenched the glowing blade in water, steam hissing like a serpent, he turned squinted eyes toward his visitor.
“Weapons or armor?” the dwarf grunted, wiping soot from his beard.
“Armor. For pets.”
The dwarf’s hammer slipped, clattering against the anvil. “Pets?!”
Lin Hao raised a finger. The Kung Fu Fly landed, wings shimmering. Across his shoulder, the Wolf Spider emerged, mandibles clicking.
“Insects?!” The dwarf’s roar shook the rafters. “You mock—”
The Fly zipped to the forge, talons seizing the 200-pound hammer. It lifted the tool effortlessly, hovering like a mythic crane. Simultaneously, the Wolf Spider’s silk lashed out, yanking a black iron ore block across the floor.
The dwarf’s curses died mid-syllable. “By Moradin’s beard…”
“Materials?” Lin Hao pressed.
“Volcanic Adamantine.” The dwarf reverently produced a crimson-veined ingot. “Rare. Expensive. Survives dragonfire.”
“Use it.”
The dwarf’s calloused fingers measured the Fly’s thorax with a tailor’s precision. “Micro-joints need mithril hinges. Spider’s carapace requires segmented plating.” His earlier irritation melted into artisan’s fervor.
“Completion time?”
“Dawn.” The dwarf already sketched blueprints, eyes alight. “First insect armor in history! The Guild will weep!”
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Night deepened. Lin Hao studied the dwarf’s samples—a dagger that split hairs, a breastplate deflecting crossbow bolts. The Fly tested its provisional armor: a scrap-metal cuirass allowing full wing mobility.
Ding! Host’s innovative armoring strategy detected. Contracted creatures gain +25% durability when equipped with specialized gear.
Satisfied, Lin Hao tossed a gold note onto the anvil. The dwarf snorted. “Triple this. Volcanic Adamantine’s not free.”
Another note joined the first. “Triple upon delivery.”
The dwarf’s grin flashed through his beard. “Deal, human.”
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Zhao Ling’er’s spies reported nothing. The masked “Jing Ke” had vanished after visiting a smithy—one frequented by nobles and mercenaries alike.
“Focus on the Underground Bazaar,” she ordered. “Ma Feiyu’s death must look accidental.”
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At dawn, Lin Hao returned. The dwarf presented two creations:
For the Fly—a scarlet exoskeleton with retractable wing-blades.
For the Wolf Spider—interlocking obsidian plates, venom reservoirs integrated into fangs.
“Test them,” the dwarf urged.
The Fly dive-bombed an anvil. Sparks flew as wing-blades sheared iron. The Spider tanked a hammer swing, carapace unscathed.
“Masterpieces!” The dwarf danced a jig. “Name your price for production rights!”
Lin Hao tossed the remaining gold. “Secrecy’s your payment.”
As he left, the dwarf shouted after him, “What lunatic arms insects?! I love it!”
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Nightfall approached. In a rented attic, Lin Hao equipped his companions. The Fly’s armor gleamed hellish red; the Spider’s plates absorbed light like black holes.
Ding! Host’s preparation complete. Mission success probability revised to 89.7%.
He smiled. Let Li Kun’s fourth-tier sword meet evolution-forged steel.