Raising Orphans, Not Assassins

The night was pitch black, with the bright moon hanging high blanketing its cold light on the earth. The ground glowed white, it was as clear as day.

Temporary Headquarters of Tieying Hall

Tie Ying, lying sideways on his bed, abruptly opened his eyes. “What time is it?” he asked.

“It’s precisely the Hour of the Pig,” replied a young man keeping watch over the dripping water clock.

“Let’s move.”

Chen Ye, who had been meditating nearby, opened his eyes with a sharp glint.

Finally, the operation was about to begin.

He exhaled softly.

After dinner that afternoon, Chen Ye had been waiting for Wan Jin Hall to take action. Through indirect probing, he had confirmed that Xiao Lian’s fate was tied to Wan Jin Hall and the Tang Clan.

Hearing Tie Ying’s words, over a dozen hall members in the courtyard opened their eyes and leapt from their seats, eager and bloodthirsty, their expressions revealed their readiness to kill.

Wan Jin Hall missions were always lucrative. Completing this one would ensure their comfort for a while.

Tie Ying got up from his bed and led the way out of the courtyard. Utilizing his qinggong, he led the group southward.

Chen Ye glanced at his system map—the direction was exactly where Xiao Lian was located.

… 

Fifteen Minutes Later

Tie Ying halted abruptly, taking cover in a field of crops. He gestured with his hand, and the group behind him stopped simultaneously. Ahead, the vague silhouette of a village could be seen.

“Watch the forest. The moment you see lantern light, enter the village. Leave no one alive.” Tie Ying’s voice, now icy cold, carried none of the warmth it had held when speaking to Chen Ye.

A chilling aura of killing intent emanated from him.

The hall members concealed themselves and lay in wait for a lantern to light up in the eastern woods. An invisible pressure seemed to permeate the air, making it heavy.

Blending into the group, Chen Ye casted a deep, penetrating gaze toward the village. 

Before long, a flicker of firelight suddenly illuminated the eastern woods. Its light starkly stood out in the vast dark night.

The flames danced, illuminating the treetops.

Tie Ying, seeing the lantern, charged toward the village without hesitation.

The hall members followed closely, their qinggong techniques propelling them after Tie Ying.

At the same time, Chen Ye noticed numerous shadows emerging from the outskirts of the village.

Their goal was the same.

… 

Chaos erupted as figures flooded the village.

Guard dogs, unable to even bark, were silenced by deadly concealed weapons, collapsing lifelessly in courtyards.

Pah! Pah!

Wooden doors were smashed open. In a flash of cold steel, those sleeping inside didn’t even have time to scream before being hacked to death.

The attackers, weapons in hand, wasted no time and swiftly moved to the next household.

The village was soon filled with a cacophony of sounds—doors breaking, shouts, and anguished cries.

The faint, metallic scent of blood began to permeate the air.

… 

Pah!

A door burst open violently.

Swoosh…

Came a sharp blade whistling down toward the bed.

Qin Yi’s eyes snapped open. In an instant, a lighter, faster and sharper swing flashed.

Dang!

The long blade clattered to the ground.

The attacker clutching his throat stared at Qin Yi with wide eyes before collapsing to the floor, lifeless.

Qin Yi, moving like a ghost, wielding her sword with precision. Several swift flashes of her blade, and the four Wan Jin Hall members who had barged into her room met their end, their heads severed.

The air inside the room became thick with the nauseating stench of blood.

“Master?”

Xiao Lian, startled awake by the commotion, gripped a concealed weapon in her hands.

“Enemy Attack!”

Qin Yi wasted no time, with her sword in hand, she rushed out of the courtyard.

… 

Boom!

A deafening explosion shook the air.

Qin Yi, having just reached the doorway, was thrown backward and sent flying into the room.

In the moonlight, she saw a massive golden pestle crash into the ground in front of the door, leaving a web-like crater two meters wide.

Creak…

The sound of wood groaning came from overhead.

The walls on either side of the door slowly collapsed, and the roof tilted dangerously.

The golden pestle was lifted by someone, its golden rings clinking melodiously.

“Amitabha… At last, this humble monk has found a second-grade assassin.”

A burly monk, over two meters tall with kind-looking brows and eyes, squeezed into the room.

Sniffing the air, he chuckled.

“Hmm… A second-grade female assassin. I wonder if you’re Yu Luosha or the Serpent Maiden?” The monk licked his lips, his expression turning lecherous. “Such fortune for this poor monk!”

Seeing the lascivious monk holding the pestle, Qin Yi’s heart sank.

“Wan Jin Hall… Qingyuan Hall Master!”

… 

In Another Courtyard

A blade as dark as ink flashed like lightning, beheading five Wan Jin Hall members in an instant.

The five fell to the ground, their blood spurting three feet high.

Huang San took a deep breath, inhaling the thick scent of blood, allowing the hot droplets to splatter across his face.

His gaze grew colder.

Two figures entered the courtyard.

“Yun’er, this man is a second-grade martial artist. His skills are decent. Use him as your grindstone.” A calm, middle-aged voice broke the silence.

Huang San turned toward the courtyard entrance, his face heavy with caution.

Under the moonlight, two figures in white robes stood at the entrance.

One was a scholarly man in his forties, casually rolling two steel balls that gleamed with a chilling light in his right hand.

The balls clinked together, producing a rhythmic sound.

Next to him stood a young man, handsome and in his twenties, bearing a striking resemblance to the older man.

Unlike the elder, the young man gripped his pair of steel balls firmly, his stance steady.

Gazing at the older man, Huang San slowly uttered six words:

“Wan Jin Hall… Fire Dragon King!”

… 

In a Southern Courtyard of the Village

“Ah!”

“Ah…”

A series of blood-curdling screams echoed through the night.

The Wan Jin Hall members who had just broken into the house staggered back after a few pained wails.

They barely took a few steps before collapsing to the ground, lifeless.

In the moonlight, one could see two dark green puncture marks on their necks.

Hearing the commotion, Tie Ying charged into the courtyard without hesitation, smashing through a side window of the house.

Bang!

The wooden window shattered into splinters.

Tie Ying’s movement was like that of a ferocious eagle—wildly aggressive and utterly unstoppable!

Puff! Puff! Puff!

In the darkness, the sound of something sharp slicing through the air echoed.

Several venomous snakes, their bodies patterned with green, blue, and red stripes, lunged toward Tie Ying.

With ruthless precision, he grabbed them midair and crushed their bodies with sheer force.

“Ah! I’ll fight you to the death!”

A sharp, anguished cry of a woman resounded within the room.

It was Qian Qi, the Snake Maiden. She launched herself at Tie Ying, her eyes filled with despair and fury.

Tie Ying sneered. “Good! Come at me!”

His hands, like steel claws, reached for Qian Qi.

In the next instant, a cloud of fine white powder was flung toward Tie Ying.

Recognizing the scent, Tie Ying immediately channeled his internal energy into his hands, transforming his claws into open palms.

With a powerful burst of wind from his palms, he dispersed the white powder.

But by the time the powder had cleared, Qian Qi had vanished.

“Lime! Shameless!” Tie Ying’s face turned ashen. Without wasting a moment, he activated his qinggong technique and dashed after her.

… 

Whoosh!

Several pillars of fire rose into the night sky, consuming the wooden roofs of the houses.

Within moments, the flames engulfed entire homes, and the weakened structures groaned before collapsing with resounding crashes.

Xiaofeng Village, home to fewer than a hundred households, had become a sea of flames.

The entire village was ablaze.

In the courtyards and along the village paths, martial artists were locked in fierce combat.

Corpses littered the ground, their blood pooling into the dirt.

“Die!”

A thunderous roar pierced through the chaos as a massive purple-gold hammer smashed into a Wan Jin Hall member.

The unfortunate man didn’t even have time to scream before the hammer, weighing over a hundred pounds, crushed him into pulp. His flesh and bones blended into a grotesque mess.

Chen Er, wielding his dual purple-gold hammers, stood amidst a pile of mangled bodies.

Further along the village path, another figure moved with agility. Though his frame was slender, his movements were quick and precise. He wielded an iron fan, weaving through the battlefield with effortless grace.

The sharp tip of the iron fan struck silently, and every person it touched collapsed instantly, dead without a sound.

After eliminating several third-grade martial artists together, Chen Er and Zhou Ba exchanged glances, seeing the gravity in each other’s eyes.

“Whoosh…” a faint sound reached their ears.

Chen Er felt a chill down his spine—a foreboding sense of doom overwhelmed him.

Panicked, he shifted his body, but he wasn’t fast enough.

A shadow grazed his shoulder, leaving a deep cut. Blood began to pour from the wound.

Zhou Ba’s hair stood on end as he reacted swiftly. His iron fan unfolded with a sharp snap, fluttering like a butterfly in the firelight.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

The sound of projectiles deflecting off the fan rang out.

A few dark objects fell to the ground, their tips gleaming with a ghostly green under the firelight.

Recognizing them, Zhou Ba shouted in alarm: “Tang Clan!”

Three martial artists clad in black nightclothes suddenly appeared atop the courtyard wall. In unison, six hands moved, unleashing a flurry of deadly glints that streaked through the air like lightning.

TL Notes:

Hour of the Pig: refers to the time period in the Chinese zodiac associated with the pig, typically considered to be between 9pm and 11pm at night