The golden-haired youth cast a dismissive glance at the approaching figures, his face etched with disdain. The middle-aged man, however, gestured for them to retreat.
“Just protect her,” he grumbled, clicking his tongue in irritation. “This man…”
‘Honestly,’ he thought, ‘if I were in my prime, dealing with such a junior would be effortless.’
The golden-haired man sheathed his rapier. “And who might you be, sir?” he inquired.
The middle-aged man regarded him with disdain. “Me? If you don’t even know that, what kind of assassin are you?”
The golden-haired man frowned. Such unprovoked arrogance, in his opinion, was truly repugnant. “Very well then, sir,” he stated. “Forgive my offense.”
He swiftly drew his rapier, launching a thrust that streaked like a meteor.
The middle-aged man parried with a horizontal block of his blade, sending a shower of sparks flying.
Meanwhile, the assassins paused their assault, bewildered. Their leader had suddenly intercepted a blow meant for their target. They retreated from the fray, their attacks halted.
After a moment of deliberation, they decided to withdraw first and question their leader later. It was clear they couldn’t offer much assistance, and betraying their employer was against their professional code. If they simply left, they could always claim they’d abandoned the mission.
Yet, the knights continued their fierce engagement with Leixar. It was evident that Leixar lacked effective means to quickly dispatch them. Each of her attacks was met and parried by two, or even several, knights working in concert.
Victory was inevitable, but a swift resolution seemed improbable.
The battle between the golden-haired youth and the middle-aged man raged with equal intensity. Divine power surged from the youth’s body in countless brilliant streams. Despite the suppression of the Land of Disorder, the enhancement to his physical prowess and strength was terrifying.
The golden-haired youth thrust his sword at the middle-aged man, strike after precise, ruthless strike. Each attack came from an incredibly cunning angle, as if every thrust was meant to be fatal. It seemed that with each successive blow, the middle-aged man would surely be pierced.
Yet, the middle-aged man parried every single attack with uncanny precision, as if he had anticipated them all.
“Haha, a perfectly textbook assassin’s swordsmanship, wouldn’t you say?” the middle-aged man chuckled. “So cunning, completely forsaking defense, every strike is a masterpiece.”
Despite his words, I detected a distinct note of mockery in his tone.
The golden-haired man remained utterly unfazed, continuing his relentless barrage of thrusts like a storm.
Clang, clang, clang! The incessant clash of blades sent shivers down my spine. I watched the continuous spray of sparks and the middle-aged man, who seemed poised to be struck down at any moment.
Parrying the continuous thrusts, the middle-aged man suddenly exerted force, knocking the golden-haired youth back. “Tell me,” he quipped, “aren’t your hands going numb?”
Standing rigidly opposite, the golden-haired man’s brow furrowed. He couldn’t fathom how this opponent managed to block every single attack. The middle-aged man seemed riddled with openings, yet he remained impenetrable, always miraculously parrying the blows.
He steadied his slightly trembling hands. Each thrust, in truth, had been delivered with all his might. Due to the rapier’s inherent lightness, clashing with a heavier blade was undoubtedly a disadvantage.
A powerful rebound force accompanied every parry; while bearable for one or two strikes, enduring it hundreds of times was agonizing.
“Textbook thrusts meeting the very author of the textbook,” the middle-aged man chuckled softly. “Where do you think your chances of victory lie? Personally, I don’t see any.”
The middle-aged man’s expression turned serious. “At least, to my knowledge, no assassin can ever best me!”
He launched his own attack, moving like a sudden gale. Without the augmentation of divine arts, his speed was limited, yet the golden-haired man felt he had no chance to evade.
*Thump!* His blade parried the strike, sending the golden-haired man stumbling back several steps before he regained his footing. His hand throbbed with a dull ache.
“Parrying a heavy broadsword with a rapier?” a thick layer of mockery laced the middle-aged man’s voice. “I must say, young man, you’re quite… imaginative.”
Another slash followed.
*Ting!* He parried again.
The mockery on the middle-aged man’s face deepened, and he struck once more.
*Ting!
*Ting!
*Ting!
*Ting!
…
Another series of bone-jarring clashes ensued. Finally, the golden-haired man, his hands slick with blood, could no longer maintain his grip on the rapier. The blade was abruptly flicked away, flying through the air to embed itself in the ground far off.
The golden-haired man walked over, retrieved his rapier, and then bowed slightly. The space around him distorted, and he vanished.
****
Meanwhile, Leixar’s twin swords were wreathed in layers of flame. She slammed them fiercely against the shield wall formed by the knights. The knights in purple armor were instantly sent flying backward, crashing against the hillside.
The assassins, observing from the side, watched their leader standing next to their target in the distance, their expressions peculiar.
Leixar paid no heed to the “motley crew” of assassins. She swiftly glided back to my side, positioning herself in front of me, then turned and said, “I apologize. I was rash this time.”
I shook my head, indicating that it was no problem at all.
Leixar looked at the middle-aged man and asked, “Thank you for saving my life, sir. May I know your name?” Even as she posed the question, a faint suspicion had already formed in Leixar’s mind. She had clearly heard the middle-aged man’s earlier remark.
“Yin,” the middle-aged man replied simply.
Leixar’s eyes widened in shock. Although she had harbored suspicions, having them confirmed still delivered a significant impact.
“Senior,” Leixar suddenly blurted out, seemingly out of nowhere, “the Tianqi Legion has not perished.”
Yin remained silent, his gaze turning somberly towards the sky. “But what good is that?” he murmured.
Leixar followed his gaze. “You know our Lord’s wish,” she said. “To fulfill our Lord’s desire, to clear his name and bring justice, requires the strength of every single one of us.”
As she spoke, she withdrew her gaze from the sky, looked at Yin, and extended her hand.
Yin’s eyes grew distant, as if recalling something from the past. “Indeed, that fellow…” he mused, a soft chuckle escaping him. Snapping back to the present, he took Leixar’s hand.