One night.
As Yi Lin's spear pierced through a martial general's chest, the spilled hot blood dyed the moonlight red, and that towering figure fell under the gaze of the masses.
This was an assassin.
An assassin who wielded a spear.
An assassin who engaged head-on.
This was the Pingxi King's front, a temporary military camp set up in the wilderness.
Within the camp, tightly guarded, an assassin suddenly knocked on the war drum and landed in the center of the camp.
A martial general under the Pingxi King, who was famous on Yi Lin's "kill list," felt shocked and angry upon learning that the legendary "Apocalypse Assassin" had arrived here.
The process was not important.
In short, he died.
This was a cruel duel—"cruel" is what it meant for the general under the Pingxi King.
But for Yi Lin, it felt more like a massacre.
A massacre that could end just by thrusting the spear forward.
"Ahhhhhhh——"
