Raising Orphans, Not Assassins

“Cri!”

“Cri!”

Sharp whistles pierced the air, echoing around the village.

Silently and without a sound, Xu Xiaolin followed behind Zhou Ba and his companions, not in a hurry to kill them.

As he crossed half the village, Xu Xiaolin noticed something unusual.

The piercing whistles came one after another, increasing in number. More and more assassins blew strange signals with their whistles.

Xu Xiaolin slowed his pace, letting the three Tang Sect disciples trailing him catch up.

The three disciples didn’t hesitate; they quickened their pace to pursue Zhou Ba and the others.

Xu Xiaolin leapt onto the roof of a house, scanning his surroundings. He noticed that the assassins from Fengyu Tower were all fleeing in the same direction, as if they had prearranged their movements.

Narrowing his eyes slightly, Xu Xiaolin counted the assassins fleeing.

There were fewer than ten second-grade experts left.

The rest had been slain in the combined assault by the Wan Jin Hall Masters and the Tang Sect elders.

As for the third-grade silver-ranked assassins, a great number of them had fallen as well.

“Running east? What’s over there? A forest?” Xu Xiaolin muttered to himself as he observed the assassins’ escape route.

“Trying to break through? How laughable…”

Xu Xiaolin sneered, having roughly guessed the assassins’ intentions.

Since Wan Jin Hall and the Tang Sect had made their move, they wouldn’t leave anyone from Fengyu Tower alive.

… 

On the village road, engulfed in flames:

“Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!”

The sound of hidden weapons tearing through the air echoed.

The Wan Jin Hall followers rushing in from all directions clutched their eyes or throats, letting out screams of agony.

Xiao Lian supported Qin Yi with one hand, while her other hand flung a handful of hidden weapons at the approaching enemies.

“Xiao Lian, head east. The whistle signals mean to go east,” Qin Yi said, half-leaning against Xiao Lian’s shoulder. Her face was pale, blood dripping from the corner of her lips.

Taking a direct blow from the Qingyuan Hall Master had left her severely injured.

The gap between first- and second-grade martial artists was already vast. Moreover, the Qingyuan Hall Master was innately powerful, wielding Shaolin inner strength that was both overwhelming and righteous—specifically countering yin and cold-based martial arts.

Had he not held back, Qin Yi would already be dead. Of course, his restraint wasn’t without ulterior motives…

Xiao Lian bit her lip as she looked at the burning village. Gathering her limited inner strength, she performed the Drifting Rain Footwork, heading east.

Fortunately, she and Qin Yi’s lodging was already near the village’s eastern edge.

The eastern village exit wasn’t far.

“Isn’t that Qin Yi?”

A man’s unfamiliar voice called out from not far behind Xiao Lian.

Without hesitation, Xiao Lian launched her hidden weapons.

“Ding! Ding! Ding!”

A series of crisp sounds rang out as her projectiles were deflected.

“Tang Sect?”

“He Wu, she’s Qin Yi’s disciple.”

“Heh! Interesting. She’s pretty skilled with Tang Sect techniques.”

The voices behind her grew closer.

Xiao Lian recognized Zhou Ba’s voice among them.

Without stopping, she glanced back slightly, seeing Zhou Ba carrying Chen Er. Chen Er’s lips were a sickly blue, his consciousness fading as black blood oozed from his shoulder—a clear sign of poisoning.

Next to Zhou Ba were Huang San and a man wielding a strange iron umbrella.

Huang San caught up with Xiao Lian, noticing Qin Yi’s pale face. He quickly asked, “Who hurt you?”

“Monk Qingyuan,” Qin Yi replied faintly, her voice barely above a whisper.

The others exchanged strange looks.

The assassin named He Wu cursed under his breath, “Damn it.”

“I should never have run with you lot. Look at who’s chasing us—Xu Xiaolin, three Tang Sect disciples, Fire Dragon King, and now Monk Qingyuan!”

“How many first-grade experts does Wan Jin Hall even have?”

“And we’ve got two right on our heels!”

A heavy silence fell over the group.

They all knew they couldn’t outrun their pursuers.

At this rate, death was inevitable.

Just then—

“Whoosh…”

A fierce gust of wind swept toward them from behind.

A chill ran down everyone’s spine.

Huang San grabbed Xiao Lian and forcefully leapt to the side.

Zhou Ba and He Wu also used all their strength to dodge to the side.

“Boom!”

A deafening explosion rang out.

The ground of the village road cracked, dirt flying everywhere.

An unstoppable force surged forth.

Huang San, Zhou Ba, and He Wu were all knocked to the ground by the shockwave.

In front of them now stood a three-meter-tall Demon-Subduing Vajra Staff.

The staff was deeply embedded in the ground, its golden rings shaking violently, emitting a clear and resonant sound akin to the chant of a Buddha.

“Amitabha. Did this poor monk ever say you could leave?”

A towering monk clad in yellow robes stepped onto the road.

Standing over two meters tall and monstrously muscular, he wore a lecherous smirk as his gaze roved over Qin Yi and Xiao Lian.

Not far from the monk, a flash of white appeared.

A middle-aged man dressed in white, holding two iron balls, emerged.

The steel balls clinked together with a chilling “click-clack” sound.

Fire Dragon King looked coldly at the remaining second-grade assassins, his gaze devoid of emotion, as if staring at ants.

Meanwhile, three figures leapt down from the rooftops.

Dressed in identical black nightwear and masks, they were the three Tang Sect disciples.

Upon seeing Monk Qingyuan and Fire Dragon King, their bodies tensed.

Two of them, judging by their exposed eyes, were women.

The fear and dread in their gazes as they looked at Monk Qingyuan made it clear—his reputation was truly vile.

“Whoosh…”

The sound of light footsteps came again.

From the southern courtyard wall, a nimble young girl leapt out, her face flushed, as if fleeing a pursuer.

Qian Qi landed on the dirt road at the village entrance and froze at the sight of Monk Qingyuan, Fire Dragon King, and the Tang Sect disciples.

Cold sweat beaded her fair forehead.

“Shameless! Where are you going?”

Suddenly, the courtyard wall behind her exploded, and a burly, thick-browed man charged out.

Tie Ying’s head was covered in dust, his face ashen.

He broke through the mud wall, and upon seeing the scene before him, couldn’t help but laugh.

“Run, huh? Weren’t you so good at running?”

Huang San, Zhou Ba, He Wu, and the others climbed to their feet, their faces dark as they stared at the enemies surrounding them.

Xiao Lian supported Qin Yi, biting her lip tightly, her eyes filled with unwillingness.

The difference in strength between them and their enemies was insurmountable. Escape was impossible.

Was it really going to end like this?

A trace of sorrow appeared in Xiao Lian’s eyes. She had journeyed all the way from Jianing Prefecture to Lin’an Prefecture.

She had finally learned martial arts, yet hadn’t even had the chance to kill that person.

Was she going to die now?

At that moment, her mind first conjured the face of the one she hated most, but it slowly shifted into another visage.

That person had a handsome face, always accompanied by a gentle smile.

Director...

I’ve broken my promise.

I can’t go back anymore.

Xiao Lian pressed her lips tightly together, her once-bright eyes now dull and lifeless.

Faced with impending death, a faint bitterness welled up in her heart.

He Wu, leaning on his iron umbrella, blood staining the corner of his mouth, shouted angrily, “Wan Jin Hall! Acting like this—aren’t you afraid of retaliation from our Tower Master?”

“Your Tower Master?”

Monk Qingyuan’s face twisted into an odd smile. “I’m afraid your Tower Master can’t even save himself right now. He doesn’t have time to bother with you!”

As he finished speaking, Monk Qingyuan’s gaze slithered like a venomous snake over Qin Yi, Xiao Lian, and Qian Qi.

“Three female assassins—nice figures, all of them!”

“These three are mine. None of you are allowed to touch them,” he declared with an air of finality.

His fiery gaze lingered as he extended his tongue, licking his lips.

At that moment, his lecherous expression was utterly at odds with his monk’s robes.

If the Buddha were present, he would likely strike Qingyuan down with a wrathful blow for defiling his teachings.

No one else said a word; they all knew Monk Qingyuan’s temperament.

Any woman he set his sights on was as good as dead.

Qin Yi’s face turned pale, her voice laced with deep regret as she whispered to Xiao Lian, “I’m sorry. I’ve dragged you into this.”

Xiao Lian shook her head. “Master, it was my own choice.”

“If there’s blame, it lies with the whims of fate.”

The flames continued to rage throughout the village.

The firelight illuminated Xiao Lian’s delicate features, lending her an ethereal beauty.

But in her eyes, a resolute determination began to burn.

Monk Qingyuan’s expression had already told her what fate awaited if she survived.

“Better to die,” she thought, the resolve in her heart growing stronger.

“Ah...”

Just then, a soft sigh suddenly echoed.

The sound was so abrupt, as if it had come out of nowhere.

Everyone present froze, startled by the unexpected voice.