White Dragon

“Ever since that incident, you’ve always addressed me as ‘Lord White Dragon’.”

“Have you… forgotten what happened?”

The black-clad figure turned to Black,his voice laced with heavy suspicion,each word dripping with implication.

This guy’s paranoid as hell.

A bead of cold sweat slid down Black’s temple.

He’d never been this tense.

Now he was certain—this was White Dragon.

In the game, White Dragon was notoriously distrustful—second only to Black Dragon among the assassins,a Level 65 Top-Tier Assassin.

What “incident”?

Black’s mind raced.

If he couldn’t answer… he was dead.

But what secret did Purple and White Dragon share?

He frantically scoured his memory—the silence stretching, thick with dread.

White Dragon’s eyes narrowed further,patience wearing thin—

“I dare not forget, Lord White Dragon!”

Black blurted out, voice dripping with humble deference.

“How could I ever forget your grace in gifting me Dragon Scale Elixir?!”

White Dragon paused, then finally averted his gaze.

That’s right—the Dragon Scale Elixir.

A secret only they two knew.

So I was just being overly suspicious…

This is indeed Purple Dragon.

“Good. Let’s go.”

As White Dragon turned away,

Black allowed himself a shaky breath.

At the last possible second, he’d remembered:in the game’s official lore compendium,it was noted that White Dragon,seeking to elevate his standing in the Parliament,had bribed Purple Dragon with a vial of Dragon Scale Elixir—helping him forge a precious five-star weapon.

If Black hadn’t boredly memorized that obscure detail…he’d have been exposed.

For the rest of the walk,White Dragon asked no more questions—even casually revealing elements of their next moves.

From this, Black learned:

The Dragonfang Blade’s disappearance had thrown them into chaos.

After endless investigations and mutual suspicion,they’d finally pinned blame on Yellow Dragon.

Exactly as I predicted.

But then—White Dragon dropped a bombshell:

“Without the Dragonfang Blade, assassinating the Empress is impossible.”

“But we won’t leave empty-handed!”

“Black Dragon and I have decided:

Before the final battle, we eliminate the Empire’s young elites!”

“To weaken their forces against the Dragon Tide…”

“And to sever the Empire’s future!”

Malice dripped from every word.

His hatred for the Empire ran bone-deep.

Shit.

Black’s blood ran cold.

He’d never imagined the Parliament would stoop this low.

The “young elites” meant Cyril, Kristine, Alice—losing any one would be a catastrophic blow.

And it was his fault—if he hadn’t stolen the Dragonfang Blade,they’d never have shifted targets to these innocents.

Damn it!

A wave of helplessness crashed over him.

No matter how hard he tried,the plot always spiraled beyond control.

Yet he didn’t despair.

For one—assassinating elites under the Dragon-Slaying Guards’ noses was near-suicidal.

And two—these prodigies weren’t helpless.

Each was formidably strong,each carried dozens of trump cards,each backed by great houses or institutions.

Take Kristine—the Holy Maiden—the Church surely armed her with relics…and maybe even secret bodyguards.

But Black had no time to dwell on it.

Because—they’d arrived at Yellow Dragon’s holding cell.

Inside lay Yellow Dragon’s corpse.

When White Dragon saw it… chaos would erupt.

Black’s heart hammered—his mind racing for an escape plan.

“What’s that stench?”

At the door, White Dragon’s face darkened—a dreadful premonition seizing him.

He kicked the door open—and froze.

His pupils shrank to pinpricks,every hair on his body standing on end.

Yellow Dragon’s body lay in a pool of black blood,a gaping hole where his heart should be.

His skin was pitch-black,his face twisted in terror,his blackened eyes staring blankly at the ceiling—as if he’d witnessed absolute horror before death.

“Yellow Dragon… is dead?!”

White Dragon staggered,shock rooting him in place for long moments.

Only after circling the corpse three times did he accept the truth.

“He was fine earlier! How… how could he die like this?!”

His voice cracked with disbelief.

Black, meanwhile, played his part perfectly—jaw dropped, eyes wide with feigned horror.

“Lord Yellow Dragon… who did this?!”

He sounded like an innocent bystander who’d just stumbled upon the scene.

But he knew White Dragon might still suspect him—after all, he’d been closest to the room.

Then—Black spotted his alibi.

“Lord White Dragon… judging by the corpse…”

“He’s been dead for days.”

The Dragonfang Blade’s poison accelerated decay,

sucking vitality until the body rotted unnaturally fast.

Though Yellow Dragon had died less than an hour ago,his corpse looked three days old.

“…You’re right.”

White Dragon calmed slightly,examining the advanced decomposition.

The killer is long gone.

“Damn it! With Yellow Dragon gone, our strength is cut again!”

“Who knew our plans so well?!”

For the first time, the Top-Tier Assassin felt chilled to the bone.

From the stolen Dragonfang Bladeto Yellow Dragon’s gruesome death—he sensed invisible eyes watching their every move.

Yet they found no trace—not even among their own ranks.

“Purple Dragon!” he barked,

“Fetch Black Dragon, Red Dragon—gather everyone immediately!”

“Yes, sir!”

There it is.

Black’s chance.

Exactly as predicted.

In a crisis this severe,

White Dragon had to send him to rally the others.

If not now—when?!

Black bowed and rushed off—but the moment he turned the corner,he sprinted for the nearest exit.

No guards.

No ambushes.

Not even a sound.

The corridor was eerily silent,only his footsteps echoing in the hollow dark.

He didn’t dare slow—not until he’d climbed the final staircase and burst onto the deck.