Chapter Eighteen: The Assassin Arrives

Tia and Liushuangling had left the Azure Cloud Sect.

The golden rays of the setting sun washed over the courtyard, where Bai Yujing lounged leisurely in a wicker chair, gently rocking back and forth. Today, he had completed thirteen rank-C orders in one breath. Just seventeen more, and he would advance his sect to rank C. He decided not to push himself further, but instead to relax for a while.

The wicker chair creaked softly as he gazed at the sun sinking below the horizon. Night descended, and stars began to glitter across the sky, even dimming the brilliance of the moon. In this world, thanks to the presence of supernatural powers, technological development caused almost no environmental pollution. Most pollution could be resolved through sacred scripture, allowing even ordinary city dwellers to enjoy the dazzling starlit sky.

Yet, as in the world before he crossed over, few ordinary people here took the time to lift their eyes and admire the night’s beauty.

Bai Yujing’s thoughts drifted. He pondered his methods for educating Tia and Liushuangling, the future of the Azure Cloud Sect, and even the endless expanse of the Demon Realm. Though he was already powerful, it was not enough. He could not yet cleave the cosmos with a single sword.

He sighed inwardly, and the chair’s rocking abruptly ceased.

Bai Yujing looked toward the open doorway.

Someone was approaching, attempting stealth but failing to elude his notice.

...

Starlight spilled across the steps of the sect, the woods on either side shrouded in profound darkness.

Zhao Yi moved cautiously upward, each step as light as a feather. His renowned sword, “Shadow Veil,” in its initial release, rendered his spiritual pressure and presence completely transparent—a talent that made him choose the path of an assassin.

At the top of the steps, the courtyard gate stood open. In the moonlight, a wicker chair rocked gently on the flagstones, and its occupant was his target: Bai Yujing.

“The client was right,” Zhao Yi mused. “He easily dealt with four seventh-tier spirit masters; this one must be eighth-tier.”

He could not gauge Bai Yujing’s spiritual pressure, yet he felt no panic, advancing into the courtyard at a measured pace.

Suddenly, Bai Yujing’s gaze shifted from the moon and fixed directly upon Zhao Yi’s position.

“Impossible…” Zhao Yi’s heart tightened. Shadow Veil’s initial release was his greatest asset, never before seen through by anyone.

He quietly sidestepped three paces.

To his terror, Bai Yujing’s gaze followed him precisely.

Cold sweat beaded on his brow; refusing to give up, he moved back three steps.

Bai Yujing’s eyes remained locked onto him, as if shadowing every movement.

“Exposed,” Zhao Yi concluded instantly.

He didn’t flee. Instead, he pushed off with both feet, launching himself like an arrow toward Bai Yujing. “Shadow Veil” issued a crisp hum; his wrist flicked, and sword light surged toward the target like a tidal wave.

Bai Yujing remained seated, only lifting his right hand and tapping a finger lightly.

“Bang!”

With a muffled sound, “Shadow Veil” exploded in Zhao Yi’s grasp, leaving not even the hilt behind. He stood dumbstruck, staring at his empty palm as fragments trickled through his fingers.

His face turned pale as paper.

A mere rank-D sect harbored a ninth-tier spirit master?

The realization chilled him to the bone.

Moonlight bathed the courtyard, Zhao Yi standing before the wicker chair, immobilized as if spellbound. Sweat poured from his forehead, soaking his collar.

After a moment’s silence, Zhao Yi spun to flee. But a slender hand landed on his shoulder; Bai Yujing had risen from the chair without him noticing.

“Who sent you to assassinate me?” Bai Yujing’s voice was calm, almost terrifying.

Zhao Yi’s face blanched, but he forced composure. “Even assassins have professional ethics. I will never betray my employer’s identity.”

“What a headache,” Bai Yujing sighed. “I’m not the type to resort to torture.”

At these words, Zhao Yi felt a flicker of hope—perhaps Bai Yujing would respect his professional integrity and let him go?

“So I’ve invented an interrogation technique that doesn’t involve tearing off nails or a thousand cuts.”

Bai Yujing continued, “I call it the Questioning Finger. It forcibly heightens the victim’s physical sensitivity.”

With that, Bai Yujing tapped Zhao Yi’s abdomen, channeling spiritual pressure.

“Ahhh!” Zhao Yi screamed in agony.

A fierce tingling erupted from his belly, spreading instantly through his body. Every nerve shrieked, his whole form convulsing under unprecedented torment.

And this was only the beginning.

His skin became more fragile than tofu—every brush of the breeze felt like being sliced by knives.

The pain-induced reflexes prevented him from staying still, and each movement brought a fresh wave of suffering.

“I’ll talk! I’ll talk!” Zhao Yi’s will shattered under the agony. “The one who hired me was Yang Long, captain of the Six Doors Investigation Division’s sixteenth squad!”

Bai Yujing nodded with satisfaction, then tapped Zhao Yi’s waist to end the Questioning Finger.

Zhao Yi collapsed, gasping for breath, limp as if melted. The ordeal had been a descent into hell; now he lacked even the strength to move a finger.

“Why did he hire you to assassinate me?” Bai Yujing pressed.

“I… I’m not sure exactly,” Zhao Yi replied weakly. “Maybe you ruined his plans. I heard him say you could easily defeat four seventh-tier spirit masters.”

Bai Yujing pondered, recalling the first rank-C task he’d accepted that day. “What does he look like? Where is he now?”

“He’s six foot tall, black-haired, with a blue birthmark beneath his eye,” Zhao Yi gasped. “He said he’d be at the Treasure Pavilion auction tonight.”

“You seem quite familiar with him.”

“We… have worked together many times,” Zhao Yi managed a bitter smile. “Whenever he faces something inconvenient, he turns to me.”

Bai Yujing nodded, then raised his hand softly. “Curse Thirty-One: Crimson Flame.”

A fireball formed in his palm and shot forth, swelling in midair like a blazing sun in the courtyard.

Zhao Yi did not even have time to scream before the flames consumed him, reducing him to ash in an instant.

Bai Yujing had no intention of handing Zhao Yi over to the Six Doors. As a spirit master, he held the right to use excessive force in defense—if the opponent was an aggressor and also a spirit master, he could execute them on the spot, with no repercussions.

Of course, this privilege did not extend to ordinary people.

He closed his eyes, sending an invisible ripple sweeping across the city of Shanghai.

Soon, he locked onto the Treasure Pavilion’s location.

With a muffled thud, Bai Yujing appeared on the street outside the Treasure Pavilion.

Amid the bustling traffic, the pavilion’s gilded doors stood out splendidly. Guests came and went, invitation cards in hand, as security scrutinized each one at the entrance.

Bai Yujing glanced at the luxury cars in the parking lot, knowing he would not have an invitation.

But he had his own methods.

He suppressed his aura, blending in like an unremarkable stone.

Seizing the moment the doors opened, he slipped inside, silent and unseen.