The morning light shone brightly on the bluestone road, and Qin Zhao had just taken the third step, with grass scraps from the market still sticking to his sleeve. The spicy taste of the knife burning in his mouth hadn't dissipated yet, and his throat was burning with flames. He was thinking about whether to find a stall to buy a new pot of wine for a change of taste - just then, the wind changed.
It's not the quietness of the wind stopping, it's a sudden tear in the air, like someone using a blade to cut through a cloth.
He didn't turn back or look up, his body moved before his brain. His left foot suddenly kicked the ground, and he twisted to the right, stretching his waist and back into a fully stretched bow. Three arrows almost flew past his spine.
Swoosh
The first arrow was nailed to the ground three feet in front of him, with the tail still shaking and the dark feathers glowing with oil; The second one grazed the outer side of his left arm, causing a crack in his robe. His skin felt like it had been rubbed by hot iron, and it was burning and painful; The third one landed on his heel, almost half an inch away from nailing him in place.
There is smoke on the ground.
It's not just ordinary smoke, it's the kind of black gas with a putrid odor that floats up in strands. When it hits the cracks in the bluestone, the surface of the stone immediately begins to bubble and turn black, as if corroded by strong acid.
Qin Zhao stood firm, his breathing not disturbed. He lowered his head and glanced at his arm. Blood had already seeped out, not much, but enough to spread along his fingertips to the corners of his mouth. He subconsciously licked his lower lip, the smell of blood mixed with the aftertaste of burning knives, a bit nauseating.
He didn't wipe it.
Instead, he raised his hand and slowly wiped the corner of his mouth with his fingertips, wiping away the drop of blood. The movements were not urgent, and even a bit lazy, as if I had just been patted on the shoulder by someone, instead of almost turning into a hedgehog.
He looked up.
The roof was connected into a gray tile, with upturned eaves, and several sparrows were startled and flew away. Glancing over, a red shadow was rolling over the roof of the three story building at the end, as light as a leaf, silently falling to the ground. That person didn't even turn his head, carrying a short bow on his back, with a thin figure, and a red coat that disappeared in the sunlight.
Leave only one arrow tail.
Cut off.
The two characters are engraved at the end of the arrow shaft, with a fierce knife technique, as if they were forcefully gouged out with a dagger.
Qin Zhao stared at the three arrow craters, his eyes gradually cooling down.
The Hall of Breaking Lives? "He whispered, his voice low, as if talking to himself or greeting someone." He's quite good at choosing the right time
He didn't chase.
It's not that he's afraid, it's that he knows this kind of person wouldn't be foolish enough to wait for you to react before running. This remote sniper style emphasizes retreating with one strike, firing three arrows at once, corroding with poison gas, and forcing you to step into a trap in panic. If he had been stunned just now, or greedily turned back to look at the arrows, he would probably have turned black in half and collapsed on the ground with cramps.
But he didn't.
He stood straight, his left hand gently caressing the dark mark on his left wrist, which was slightly hot, like a treasure trove yawning - full and too lazy to move.
He didn't let it take action.
This wave of attacks is not worth using the Guixu treasure trove. Three poisoned arrows, not even touching his meridians, at most a warning. If you really need to use the "Zhi Zhen" level ability, it is for dealing with the life and death situation, not for dealing with street assassins.
No matter how crazy Qin Zhao is, he knows the boundaries.
But he knew in his heart that this matter couldn't just be let go.
The scene just now was too familiar - showing off in a high-profile manner, throwing the gold card, kneeling all over the room, and then someone came to give a "thank-you gift" in the dark the next day. In his past life, he had seen many new tycoons who had just won a project and had their garage repainted at night. If he was even more ruthless, he would cut the brake line for you.
The same goes for the cultivation world.
Do you think you can walk sideways by swiping a card? Sorry, this is about fists and hidden knives.
He stood still, motionless.
The wind blew his broken hair in front of his forehead, revealing the faint golden crack on his brow bone. The word 'slag' on the wine pot shines in the sunlight, like a soldering iron.
He suddenly laughed, his smile a bit sinister.
Okay, it's quite impressive, "he whispered." If you dare to take action when I first show your face, it means you're either stupid or... you're not afraid of death
He took a step and continued walking forward.
The footsteps were neither fast nor slow, just like nothing happened just now. The wound on his left arm was still oozing blood, but he didn't even glance at it. His robe was torn when it broke, and it wasn't his first day wearing tattered clothes when he went out.
But his eyes changed.
In the depths of the pupils, a faint purple color slowly spread out, like ink dripping into clear water, getting darker and darker as it grew. This is not emotional loss of control, it is the residual spirit of returning to the ruins in his body responding to threats - not counterattacking, it is a mark.
Just like a hunting dog smelling blood and remembering the scent.
He knows who did it.
The Broken Life Hall.
The name is engraved on the tail of the arrow, clearly indicating that it is not hidden or concealed. This style is either confident to the point of arrogance, or backed by someone who thinks that Qin Zhao is just a newly emerged useless person who kills him and no one will stand up for him.
Unfortunately, they made a mistake.
He is not a waste.
He's the kind of person - if you shoot an arrow at me, I can turn around and clear your entire organization's cards.
As he walked and thought, his mind had already begun to calculate.
The Broken Life Palace sounds like an assassin organization, specializing in shady work. This kind of place usually has a background, which could be a family or a branch of a temple. But since they dare to touch him, don't blame him for lifting the table.
He is not afraid of trouble.
He is afraid that no one will come to cause trouble.
The more trouble there is, the more he can see where the loopholes in the rules of this world lie. In his past life, he relied on capital arbitrage, but in this life, he broke through with "crazy criticism".
Are you playing Yin?
Okay, then I'll play even dirtier.
He walked through a narrow alley, flanked by low residential houses with peeling walls and wet clothes hanging from clotheslines. A wildcat crouched on the wall watching him, wagged its tail, and jumped away.
He suddenly stopped.
Not because he discovered any ambush, but because he smelled a scent.
Bloody smell.
It's not his own, it's the poison arrow that just emitted. He used to only focus on observing the attackers and didn't pay much attention, but now he's gone far away and the wind changes, and that putrid smell wafts over again.
He frowned.
This poison is not right.
It's not just ordinary paralyzing or corrosive toxins, but with a certain taste of spiritual erosion, like being able to crawl into the sea of consciousness along the wound, disturbing the mind. If he had been slow to react just now, he might have started experiencing visual and auditory hallucinations by now.
No wonder those three arrows have to be shot at the same time, two virtual and one solid, forcing you to hide in a hurry. This is the real killing move - not by force, but by poison.
He raised his hand, took off the wine jug from his waist, unscrewed the lid, and poured some wine onto the wound on his left arm.
Hiss
Pain is certain, but stronger than poisoning.
Poor quality knives may be strong, but they can at least kill bacteria. He doesn't believe in any miraculous cure, he believes in the most primitive methods - burning, washing with wine, and applying salt. In his past life, he was bitten by a snake while negotiating mergers and acquisitions in Southeast Asia, and that's how he survived.
The wine flowed to the ground, mixed with blood, making a slight "sizzling" sound.
He put the lid back on the pot and rubbed his finger on the word "slag" as if confirming something.
Then he continued walking.
The bluestone road gradually narrows, and ahead is the entrance to the old street in the south of the city. There are many corners and deep alleys there, suitable for ambush and escape. His current state is exactly when others like to attack him the most - he has just been attacked, his injuries have not been treated, and his alertness seems high, but in fact, he is the easiest to be induced twice.
If it were someone else, they would definitely find a safe house to hide, heal, gather intelligence, and contact allies.
He did not have.
He hasn't even changed his steps.
Go wherever you should go.
He knew that there must still be eyes staring at him in the dark now. Maybe a second group of people have already set up their formation, just wait for him to enter the ambush circle.
But he doesn't.
He walked so confidently, as if he didn't care if anyone was watching.
Actually, he cares.
He just doesn't want them to know that he cares.
As he walked, he scanned his surroundings with his peripheral light. He kept in mind all the possible places where Tibetans could hide, such as eaves, window crevices, clotheslines, and dog holes in the corners of the walls. He is not good at tracking, but he is good at layout. When he shorted the stock market in his past life, he even investigated when his rival company's cleaning lady would take out the trash.
It's the same now.
Are you staring at me?
Okay, then I'll make you think you have the initiative.
Actually?
He is the one waiting for the opportunity.
He is not afraid of death.
He is afraid of dying worthless.
If he dies today, someone must have paid a tenfold or hundredfold price. Otherwise, his body would have gone through in vain, and his treasure trove would have been opened up in vain.
He took five steps before the corner and suddenly stopped again.
It's not because of danger, it's because he saw something.
On the ground, there is a red cloth corner.
Very small, only the size of the nail cap, stuck in the crack of the bluestone slab, with a bright red color, as if scraped off from the clothes of the red clothed shooter just now.
He didn't bend down to pick it up.
Just took a glance and remembered the location.
Then he lifted his foot and walked over the corner.
The wind blew in from the alleyway, rolling up the corners of his robe and revealing the dark red pattern on the soles of his boots. The people on the street have not yet come to their senses. Some are still counting what grass they have lost, some are kneeling on the ground picking up scattered spiritual powder, and there is an old man holding an empty sack and crying loudly - his bag of thousand year old dragon beard grass is all gone.
Qin Zhao did not turn back.
He knew that this operation was equivalent to dropping a bomb in Qin City. By this time tomorrow, even the city lord's mansion would probably send someone to investigate his identity. But so what?
He now has abundant spiritual power, stable divine consciousness, and has even eaten enough to return to the treasury of the village. His condition is just right.
Whoever wants to check, come and check.
If we can find out your abilities, but not... then don't blame him for continuing to swipe your card until you go bankrupt.
He stood at the top of the stone steps, his gaze sweeping across the rooftops on both sides of the street. The tiles are old, the corners of the eaves are covered in dust, and a few sparrows fly away from the edges. Everything seems calm.
But he knew that this calmness couldn't last long.
The scene just now was too flamboyant, the light when the gold card was activated could be seen from at least ten miles away. If nothing unexpected happens, someone is already on their way now.
It may be the second group of people from the Qin Family Law Enforcement Hall, or it may be the eyeliner of other forces.
He doesn't care.
He just habitually remained vigilant - after all, he had just been warned by a door in the sea of knowledge that he was "not worthy of being precious enough", and now was not the time for waves.
He lifted his foot and prepared to step down the stairs.
Just then, a trembling scream came from behind.
Sir... Sir, please wait
It's that spirit grass vendor.
He stumbled out, still holding the gold card in his hand. His arrogance was long gone. Instead, he was frightened and flattered: "This card... Is there any misunderstanding about this card? I didn't know anything about it just now. Your adult didn't remember the villain. Please keep this card. Can we... trade again?"
Qin Zhao stopped in his tracks and didn't turn back.
No need.
Ah.
I said, no need, "he said calmly," I'll give you that card
The vendor was stunned and said, "... send me away
That's right. "Qin Zhao finally turned back and smiled," Take it and register an account with the Qin Family Business Alliance. In the future, you can purchase goods through a dedicated line without any transaction fees
The vendor's mouth is wide open enough to stuff eggs in.
I... I
Oh, let me remind you, "Qin Zhao raised a finger." This card is bound to a real name contract, and anyone who uses it will have their lifespan automatically deducted by ten years. Are you registered under your real name
The stall owner turned pale, "Yes... Yes! I'm Li Dagen! ID number 367..."
Not bad, "Qin Zhao nodded." Live longer and don't let yourself die
After speaking, he turned around and walked down the steps.
Behind him, Li Dagen slumped on the ground, clutching his gold card and trembling all over.
He knows that he will never forget today in his lifetime.
It's not because we lost the grass.
It's because he saw a 'poor ghost' with his own eyes, using a card to stomp on the rules of the entire East City, and then said lightly, 'I'll give it to you.'.
That feeling doesn't feel like cultivation.
Like seeing the seal of the King of Hell, Buddha transferred the money.
Qin Zhao walked out of Dongshikou and stepped onto the bluestone road leading to the old street in the south of the city.
The sunshine fell on his shoulders, warm and cozy.
He touched his left wrist, and the dark lines had returned to calm.
The treasure trove lies quietly in the depths of the Sea of Knowledge, like a well fed ferocious beast, temporarily no longer restless.
He took a sip of the burning knife and coughed twice due to its spiciness.
Next stop, "he muttered to himself," it's time to find a qualified 'Zhi Zhen'
The wind blew his broken hair in front of his forehead, revealing the faint golden crack on his brow bone.
The word 'slag' on the wine pot flickered in the sunlight.
He took the third step.
The streets and alleys ahead are quiet, with scattered eaves. A stray cat jumps off the wall and disappears around the corner.
His shadow stretched long and landed on the bluestone board, like a unsheathed knife.