Fulen watched the greatsword descend, yelled for mercy, and then closed his eyes. After waiting for a moment, Fulen opened his eyes and steadied himself, looking at the greatsword just inches away.
The shorter man in black stood in front of the Warrior who had stopped, gesturing. The Warrior moved his greatsword away and said with a grin, "Hey, kid, is there anything else you need? Are you going to offer some money for your life?"
Fulen exhaled deeply, straightened up, and asked, "If I give you money, will you not capture me?"
This time, the Assassin answered directly, "I'm afraid not. We have to complete the mission, and we'll take your money too. Although you won't escape the command of death, you'll die more easily, or rather, without having your limbs chopped off."
Fulen pointed at the other party with his left hand and roared, "However, I refuse!"
The Assassin's mouth twitched twice, and though his true face wasn't visible, his voice sounded as if he was laughing heartily, "Haha, good, you've got guts! Nika, don't interfere, let me handle this."
With that, the Warrior named Nika stepped aside and quietly watched the Assassin's movements, silently blocking all of Fulen's escape routes.
The Assassin let out a sinister laugh, "Good kid, you chose this path, now you'll suffer. I'll chop off your fingers one by one. Speaking of which, this is my first time playing such a torturous game. Kid, you're very lucky. First, it'll be your heart."
As soon as he finished speaking, the Assassin lunged forward like a dark shadow, but Fulen, who had been on guard, held up a piece of paper with both hands, directly blocking the dagger's path.
This ordinary piece of paper blocked the Assassin's full-force thrust, and Fulen didn't even feel the dagger's power transmit through it.
While the Assassin was stunned and the Warrior immediately charged forward with all his might, Fulen instantly vanished, leaving only a sentence echoing in the alleyway.
"Thirty years..."
"Thirty years? What does that mean?" The Assassin paused when Fulen disappeared, then paused again upon hearing the words, turning to look at Nika.
Nika's voice also carried clear confusion, "Perhaps it refers to his surname? Or that he'll return for revenge in thirty years? Such a long-delayed revenge?"
In the alley, only these two bewildered mercenaries remained, staring at each other.
On the other side, Fulen teleported into his study. There was no Portal, nor did he see the Spirit World. In a very short, almost imperceptible amount of time, Fulen returned home.
Fulen touched his body, which was still in intense pain, but struggled to stand up, preparing to check if he had sustained any other external injuries. However, he checked the time; it was around nine o'clock, meaning the maid might have just left or hadn't left yet. So Fulen dragged his injured body and locked the study Door.
After taking off his clothes, Fulen looked left and right, finally relaxing. This time, he had only grazed some skin, and a little alcohol ointment would fix it. All the injuries were in places covered by clothes, so they wouldn't have too much impact on him.
With a long sigh, Fulen looked at the red moon outside the window, feeling a bit sad about his experience of being badly beaten for showing off. But thinking about the vicious methods of those two, he probably would have been beaten up even if he hadn't shown off, and they would have tracked him down to his location.
Although he had been beaten this time, thankfully he hadn't exposed his residence. As long as he told Kvedo and the others, those greedy mercenaries wouldn't come looking for him.
What bothered Fulen the most was that when he delivered his final threat, he only managed to say "thirty years." Alas, Chinese threats seem to be a bit longer, Fulen tugged at his hair in annoyance.
In the silence, Fulen faintly heard the sound of his villa's main Door closing, realizing that his foresight was indeed necessary. Otherwise, if the maid had seen his injuries, those greedy mercenaries might have found out his residence.
Fulen now dared not underestimate those mercenaries, after all, mercenaries also possessed Beyonder powers, though perhaps only Sequence 9 or Sequence 8.
Whew, Fulen exhaled into his palms, rubbed his face vigorously twice, and then abruptly stood up. He still needed to write to Kvedo first, telling him not to come to him for now, at least for half a year, otherwise there would still be a risk of being discovered.
As for half a year later, Fulen chuckled mischievously to himself. By then, he would be Sequence 7. If he didn't avenge himself, he'd be laughed to death. Time's up, Outer God's down.
Fulen had originally treated this world a bit like a game, after all, his path ahead was simply too much better than others'. And the Abraham Family, such a declining family, now encountering him, a Transmigrator, was practically on the verge of rising.
Fulen weighed it himself. In this era, with his background, there was no one who fit the male protagonist's setting better than he did now.
"What a pity." Fulen touched his wounds after being severely beaten. Now, Fulen was much more sober. All that 'Dragon King' stuff was nothing compared to 'lying low'. Lying low was the main theme of this world.
Using the light of the red moon, Fulen lit the candles in the study and casually pulled out a piece of letter paper. This was something Fulen could easily find in every study even without buying it, as people primarily relied on letter writing for information transfer back then.
Fulen picked up a fountain pen, casually opened the ink bottle, dipped it twice, and wiped it against the neck of the ink bottle. He had originally intended to bite the pen cap and then think about the content of the letter, but after a moment's thought, he was afraid of getting ink on himself, so he simply put the pen into the ink bottle.
After habitually pushing at his eyes, Fulen realized he wasn't wearing his glasses. He paused, scratched his head, and then directly picked up the fountain pen and wrote, "...I am currently in a rather difficult situation. Please forgive me for not being able to return your enthusiasm. I must separate from you for several months to make the attention of those jackals in the Darkness temporarily disappear. Therefore, please understand my predicament, and it's best not to even write letters to me..."
After finishing the letter, Fulen let it dry for a while, then placed the letter paper into an envelope with a subtle fragrance. After melting the wax seal with a candle, Fulen paused, took out a stamp engraved with the Abraham Family crest, and pressed it down.
A moment later, Fulen looked at his masterpiece, nodded with satisfaction, and muttered to himself, "Classy."