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Jun Mo Xie was very fast.
He was art in motion. A blur that danced like wind and struck like lightning, each step paired with a flash of silver and the sickening thud of impact.
One assassin gasped as Jun Mo Xie's hand blurred across his chest, and the next second, his ribs were destroyed as he lost his life.
The man beside him raised his blade, but found his arm wasn't listening.
In fact, he couldn't even feel it anymore.
He looked down only to see that his arm was… gone.
It had just vanished from the shoulder down, neatly separated like a peeled fruit.
He barely had time to register it before a foot slammed into his chin, launching him skyward like a sack of rice hurled from a trebuchet.
Jun Mo Xie laughed as he moved, the sound light and teasing—a man enjoying a stroll through the park, not a massacre.
"Come now," He said cheerfully, spinning and elbowing another man so hard in the jaw that his mask flew off and his tongue lolled out. "If this is the best you guys had to offer, I'm deeply disappointed."
"You—You MONSTER!" One assassin screamed, swinging madly with both blades.
Jun Mo Xie caught one with his two fingers.
"Rude," He said, smirking. "I'm no monster."
He twisted the blade, making the assassin scream in pain as the sword bent like soft clay.
"I'm just… enthusiastically misunderstood."
Bang!
Mo Xie spun and backhanded the man so hard, he twirled in the air like a carnival acrobat before slamming headfirst into the wall with a wet crack.
The remaining assassins were frozen.
One man whimpered.
"You know," Mo Xie mused aloud, "I always thought assassins would be more… threatening. But this? This is like kicking toddlers."
Someone tried to run, but how could Mo Xie let him run away?
A blur.
A scream.
And silence.
Mo Xie reappeared behind another man, whispered in his ear, "Boo."
The man fainted on the spot.
"I didn't even touch that one," He laughed. "These guys are made of glass!"
The rest of the assassins were staring in awe and fear... six well-trained and cold-blooded killers were vulnerable beyond words in front of this thing! He actually killed so many of them without borrowing any support from his Xuan Qi!
Who in this world is capable of killing six such expert assassins in one swoop?
"Follow me!"
The mysterious man shouted through the mask, which was concealing his face; it was evident that he was addressing the Jun Family's guards.
The voice was sharp, clear, and unquestionable — slicing through the thunder and rain like the tip of a master's blade. The black-masked figure didn't glance back, but his presence radiated command. That voice, muffled behind layers of black cloth, carried with it the weight of supremacy and an unspoken warning.
Disobey at your own peril.
Panting, soaked in blood and sweat, Jun Hu stumbled forward, his limbs screaming in exhaustion. Yet, he still found the breath to protest. "P-Please... save the Young Master first... He must—!"
"Jun Mo Xie has already escaped!" The masked man snapped, his tone clipped and cold. "If you fools hadn't stayed behind playing heroes, he'd have been home by now!"
The words struck the eight guards like a bolt of divine lightning, stunning them into stunned disbelief, then releasing their hearts from the iron grip of fear.
He's safe... The Young Master is safe!
With renewed energy, the bloodied and battered guards turned on their heels, flanking the mysterious man with renewed vigor, like a phalanx rallying behind their war god.
BOOM!
But that brief moment of peace was shattered by a sudden, violent explosion of energy. The air cracked as a golden radiance erupted behind them!
The leader of the assassins, Li Zhi Wu, narrowed his eyes. He had been watching, observing... finally making his move.
Li Zhi Wu surged forward like a human comet, a living sun ablaze in yellow Xuan Qi. His killing intent boiled the rain midair, and the soaked cobblestones beneath his feet hissed in protest.
"AFTER THEM!" He roared, his voice thundering.
Two other khaki-robed men joined his chase, their own yellow auras shimmering through the rain like desert storms unleashed into a drowning city. These were no average killers — these were the elite.
The Jun guards and their black-cloaked savior were now prey.
Suddenly, a black-robed, black-masked man appeared right in front of Jun Mo Xie and the guards.
The figure stood still, blocking the narrow alleyway like a solitary monument carved by war itself. Drenched in black, his robe clung to a body built of tempered steel, and in his hand rested a long, glimmering sword, gleaming with the reflection of lightning.
His eyes were cold, unwavering, jade-like as he scanned them not with fear, but with utter disinterest. As if he were not confronting warriors, but swatting away flies.
A green aura shimmered from his body.
A Jade Xuan expert!
The Jun guards froze mid-step. The man wasn't moving, not yet. He just stood there like a sentinel forged in war, like a wall made from sword steel and killing intent.
His goal wasn't to kill them outright—no.
He only needed to hold them long enough for the others to arrive and encircle them. A few seconds, just a few breaths… and they would all be corpses lying in the mud.
But Jun Mo Xie's guards didn't slow down.
They followed the masked man like wolves chasing blood with no hesitation, no fear. If he was the spear, they were the fangs behind it.
Their charge was fierce, sharp, unstoppable.
The Jade Xuan man narrowed his eyes. His grip on his sword tightened. Water from the puddles around him leapt into the air as he stepped back instinctively.
Who the hell is this?
This man… he's not normal!
Then, steeling his nerves, the assassin roared, leaping forward. His green light flared like a beacon of fury and death.
For decades, he had honed his blade.
For decades, he had survived countless missions. He had faced Spirit Xuan warriors and lived to tell the tale.
He dashed in, blade aiming straight for Jun Mo Xie's heart.
But Jun Mo Xie didn't slow down.
His upper body suddenly twisted, unnaturally, grotesquely—his waist spinning mid-charge like a demon serpent coiling around a strike. His chest passed the assassin's blade by a hair's breadth. His face was already behind the killer's shoulder before the man could even blink.
The assassin's sword still moved forward on momentum, barely catching Jun Mo Xie's clothing, slicing through his robe—but that was all. His blade cut only air and rain.
Too fast. Too late. Too foolish.
The assassin's eyes widened.
Jun Mo Xie's elbow slammed into his chest with a sickening crack.
The assassin's bone snapped and air blasted from the assassin's lungs in a sudden gasp of horror.
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