Blood painted the floor. Broken tables groaned under the weight of fallen assassins, and the air reeked of burnt talismans and shattered pride.
Among the debris, the scar-faced man slowly rose to his knees, one hand clutching his mangled wrist, his face pale with pain.
His eyes were fixed on Bai Zihan.
The name echoed in his mind like thunder.
He had heard the stories, of course. Everyone had.
He had scoffed at those stories like many others.
Exaggeration, he’d thought.
Typical noble propaganda. Just another overhyped brat from a powerful clan, with resources and elders cleaning up after him.
Now he could still feel the pain in his broken bones, the fear that gripped his lungs, and the cold sweat soaking his back.
He clenched his teeth, humiliated.
He had ganged up on him. With others. Nascent Soul. Soul Formation. Veterans. Killers.
And still, they had been played with like insects.
His eyes trembled as he looked up again.
Bai Zihan stood there as if nothing had happened.
As if this place—this den of assassins—was no more threatening to him than a teahouse.
His sleeves remained immaculate. His expression was calm, detached and eerily cold.
This is the monster the rumors spoke of.
The rumors hadn’t done him justice.
The scar-faced man felt a bitter laugh rise in his throat, only to choke it down.
He had thought himself strong. Elite. A reaper in the dark.
But before Bai Zihan, he was no more than a pebble in the path.
He lowered his head, blood trickling from his lip as he spat to the side.
So this... is true fear.
And a part of him—despite the pain, despite the fury—understood why even the Soul Formation cultivators had been stopped by their leader.
It wasn’t for Bai Zihan’s sake.
Xie Wanshou’s eyes flickered—just for an instant.
A subtle shift in her pupils, a slight stillness in her breathing.
But to someone like Bai Zihan, that brief falter was enough.
Still, she composed herself quickly, her voice smooth as ever.
"You give us too much credit," she said evenly.
"The Black Lantern Society takes many contracts—but we do not act without cause or coin. And we certainly don’t go after the Heirs of the great clans, not to mention someone as great as the Bai Clan."
"I do not recall any such contract. Neither against you, nor against Bai Xinyue."
She tried to explain.
"Certainly! But like I said, you definitely know the one behind it. You’d better cough it up, otherwise even those two dogs hiding behind you won’t be able to save you."
Xie Wanshou’s composure cracked.
Bai Zihan’s words had struck home.
Not just because of their confidence—but because they were correct.
The temperature in the room shifted.
"Two dogs... hiding behind you," Bai Zihan repeated, almost lazily. His tone held no mockery, only cold truth.
"Spirit Severing Realm, yes? Probably your source of confidence."
He tilted his head slightly, eyes flicking toward the dark corridor behind the curtain Xie had emerged from.
His spiritual sense had already pierced through the layers of illusion and Qi-concealing formations.
Two shadows lurked there—one leaning against a pillar with arms crossed, the other seated in silence like a statue carved from stone.
They had likely been watching and waiting, either for a signal from Xie Wanshou or a sign that she was in danger.
Xie’s pupils shrank ever so slightly.
Before she could respond, the shadows stirred.
A voice echoed from the darkness.
"Hah... Back off, Wanshou. This little cub isn’t as harmless as he looks."
The first figure stepped forward, revealing a tall man with unkempt silver-streaked hair and an amused glint in his eyes.
His clothes were simple but reinforced with formation, and a long saber was strapped to his back.
He cracked his neck as he stepped beside Xie Wanshou.
The second shadow emerged more slowly.
This one was quieter, taller, and wore a half-mask made of jade, hiding the lower part of his face.
His robes were pitch-black, adorned only with a red thread around the collar.
An icy pressure rolled through the air.
Spirit Severing Realm!
"You’ve got sharp eyes, boy," the jade-masked man said, his voice deep and steady. "But I suggest you go back. Otherwise, even if you are from the Bai Clan, I won’t show mercy."
"Make your choice—comply or not. Spare me the useless chatter."
The silver-haired one laughed, clearly enjoying himself.
"Hahaha... Seems like the Bai Clan has raised a very arrogant heir. Typical of them!"
He took a step forward.
The wooden floor groaned beneath his feet—not from weight, but from the pressure that radiated outward.
The very structure of the building seemed to tense in response.
"I’ve been in the Spirit Severing Realm for sixty years. Killed Void Refinement enemies before you even had your first breakthrough. Do you really think you can walk in here, threaten the Black Lantern Society’s Mistress, and walk away untouched?"
Beside him, the jade-masked cultivator finally raised a hand—and the walls of the building groaned.
A formation had been activated, sealing the exit to make sure Bai Zihan couldn’t escape.
Kong Zhanghong, by now, was already regretting coming.
(Two Spirit Severing Realms!!! Young Master, we need to get out of here!)
He was surprised by Bai Zihan’s earlier dominance, but that and this were different—because unlike before, now they were facing Spirit Severing Realm cultivators.
But unlike his concern and rising panic, Bai Zihan remained calm. Unmoving.
He showed no sign of retreat.
Bai Zihan exhaled softly.
His voice—though still quiet—now held the resonance of a blade being drawn.
"I see... so you want to defy me."
The silver-haired one snapped.
"Hmph! Don’t think we’re the same as these trash. You’ll regret ever stepping in here!"
"Well, I don’t know about that. Because when this is over, you two will also be lying on the floor—just like them."