Chapter 92
Chapter 92
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 92
Chapter Title: Solo Run (2)
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If his whereabouts were exposed, he had to hide.
He needed to abandon his entire life up until now, discard the status he'd enjoyed, and if he had any wealth, leave that behind too... He had to be reborn as a completely different person in a place no one would ever expect.
Only then could he rest a little.
But that damn murder sickness could strike at any moment. Wherever death occurred, the murder sickness inevitably followed.
That said, he couldn't hide in a place devoid of people either.
He might think holing up deep in the mountains would keep it secret from everyone... but no. A person hiding alone would be discovered faster than anyone. Somehow, they always found out.
A place where he lived among people, yet death never occurred.
No such place existed. But he could find spots where the chance of death was exceedingly slim.
Places teeming with living, moving people.
He just had to stick to those. And to avoid drawing suspicious eyes... a wanderer!
Simply wandering aimlessly wouldn't do. He had to give the impression of someone perfectly healthy to anyone who saw him.
"Got any work? I'll take standard pay."
"You don't look the type for this kind of labor..."
"I'm just a monk wandering the world for sights. When odd jobs like this come up, I earn a bit of travel money."
"I've got work, but can't pay much."
"That's fine. What first?"
Four Thousand Four started doing stonework.
The employer knew he was a wanderer, so he only assigned menial tasks, nothing important. Someone who'd work a day or two, pocket his pay, and move on.
One job led to another.
"Wish you'd stick around a few more days. Shame."
"If my path brings me this way again, I'll drop by."
"Where you headed?"
"Nowhere set. Thinking north. I'll end up somewhere."
"If you pass through Dalian on the way, stop by Heavenly Flower Garden. Mention my name—they'll pay generously."
"Thanks. If I get the chance in Dalian, I'll make sure to visit."
Four Thousand Four bowed politely.
He never stayed long in one place. A day or two, three at most. Lingering invited the scent of death. Everywhere people lived, it could bloom.
He threw himself into every job.
He couldn't seem suspicious. He had to plant the firm impression of a genuinely healthy man.
Those hunting him might show up. If he looked shady, they'd pry immediately, even embellish with lies. But if he seemed healthy, once familiarity set in... they'd overlook him.
So he worked hard.
He took two coins' pay but did two taels' worth of work.
He sweated buckets, ate with relish, chatted amiably, then departed without a backward glance, leaving no burden behind.
A fugitive must avoid the people of the world.
This starkly showed how hard it was to flee without drawing eyes.
Beggars roamed everywhere. He had to evade their gaze.
Merchants went everywhere. Evade them too. Pot sellers stuck together, salt traders too. All to be avoided.
All in the pleasure trade belonged to one sect. Avoid them.
The official guard had major surveillance nets. No one knew where they watched, but if they sought someone, they found them fastest.
All... eyes to dodge.
How to evade such eyes?
The Zhuge family had their own network. So did the Heavenly Annihilation Division. Their eyes spotted murder traces even in what looked like natural deaths.
Perhaps they controlled funerals.
Undertakers, coffin makers, grave diggers... anyone who could inspect a body once might be their eyes.
Avoiding them all was impossible.
If you could avoid all people, fine—but you can't, so don't hide. Conceal!
The killing principle said to blind the eyes.
Not evade. Stand before them openly, but veiled so they couldn't truly see.
They see him. But not as Four Thousand Four.
Make it so.
First, shed any martial air. He carried no weapons. Nothing at all. Just the wooden bow and handcuffs from the old woman's armory.
Wooden bow, handcuffs... they'd served well poisoning the merchant escort and fleeing.
The wooden bow, a sturdy plank, had even saved his life blocking the merchant escort's sword.
He hadn't drawn them since.
No use for them. If there'd been need, he'd have used them—but no need, so he just carried them.
No, they had use.
The wooden bow and handcuffs carried no scent of death. Fidgeting with them calmed him, like touching something utterly pleasant.
Nothing else on him.
No money either. Only what he earned from work.
His wanderer's pack held just one spare set of clothes.
Four Thousand Four was healthy. So he played the day laborer.
Blinding people's eyes.
They could look, but never link him to Four Thousand Four, not even suspect it.
"Need muscle?"
"Plenty. You look like you can fight."
"Can't do that. Strength's fine... but call me for heavy lifting..."
"Nah... you can't fool my eyes. You've fought. Ever think of escorting?"
"Me? Escort's not for just anyone. I'm good with porter work."
"Go inside. Lots to do."
The gate escort waved him through.
The escort didn't suspect Four Thousand Four. He reeked of deep travel grime, the scent of a road-hardened day laborer living hand to mouth.
His face was sun-bronzed, hands rough from toil, clothes washed but ragged. Yet he carried the wanderer's musty odor.
Escort agencies teemed with such men. They toiled by day, blew wages on booze, spurned steady jobs—dead-end lives.
"That guy'd make a good escort, right?"
"Dunno..."
"Can't fool my eyes. He's fought. Look at him—solid, springs like a coil."
"You see that?"
"Haha, can't you?"
The escorts joked and laughed.
Assassinating the Dangha Escort Bureau chief was simple.
Escorts were lax. Outside, who knew—but inside, they lolled like jellyfish in May.
They didn't know it was a true assassination.
Merchant escort, Zhuge patriarch... public hits. But the Dangha chief was a genuine target.
Not for show—real reason to kill.
Who had the reason? Client? Heavenly Annihilation Division?
"Here for work?"
"Yes."
"Come back dawn tomorrow!"
"Huh?"
"Dunno why they let you in—no work. Day's done. Grab noodles inside and go. For work, come early tomorrow."
"Early" meant pre-dawn.
"Ah, yes. Got it."
Four Thousand Four bowed and headed to the kitchen for noodles.
As expected, inner defenses were slack.
Breaching from outside was easy—walls no obstacle, straight to the chief's quarters. Then his martial arts...
Dangha was a small agency.
Just over ten escorts. So main business leaned toward guarding over transport. Yet...
Dangha focused heavily on transport.
Lots of cargo.
Letting porters in freely meant heaps to move.
Either the chief's martial prowess was strong, or he negotiated well with bandits.
Over his noodle bowl, Four Thousand Four scoped the place thoroughly.
"Busy here, huh. Other agencies just twiddling thumbs."
First-timer at Dangha?"
"Yeah."
"Where from?"
"Coming from Dalian. Worked Heavenly Flower Garden a few days, heard this place had jobs."
"We're steady. Chief's got real knack."
'Knack!'
That explained Dangha. The chief ran it on savvy, not strength. No need for many escorts... but porters aplenty.
Odd. Easy pickings—whoever could kill him. Why assign him?
Next day, Four Thousand Four arrived pre-dawn.
"You were here yesterday?"
"Yes."
"Can you caravan?"
"Not really... I'm a free spirit... just a few days' work."
"Can't pay much then."
"First time at an agency—call it training."
"Go in."
A steward-like man nodded inside.
All day laboring, he spotted the chief over ten times.
In his mind, Four Thousand Four assassinated him repeatedly. Each time, success. Ten tries, ten kills. Not just kills—escapes too.
Killing and fleeing the Dangha chief was child's play.
'This is too weird!'
Four Thousand Four didn't assassinate the Dangha chief.
Of course he had to. Only then could the hostage in Heavenly Annihilation Division live. Or at least not die stupidly captured.
But the Dangha chief bore no scent of death.
Unrelated to death. No reason to die unless someone forced it.
Killing such a man was sin.
Forcing death where none bloomed was murder. The killing principle's murder.
The Heavenly Annihilation Division wanted that murder.
Not worldly murder—the principle's unfit killing.
Couldn't leave unease after such a kill.
So... that night, he moon-jumped the walls.
Shiiik!
He slipped into Dangha unseen.
No one spotted him. Escorts all slept. No guards for an agency.
He'd long pinpointed the chief's quarters.
Sleek! Sss...
He infiltrated the chief's room.
Four Thousand Four's movements evaded ears. Even instinct. In darkness, they'd only know when the blade kissed their throat.
The bed came into view.
The chief slept. Beside him, his wife, it seemed.
An assassin entered—yet they slumbered deeply, oblivious.
Sss...
He glided to the chief's side.
Moonlight lit the chief's face. The woman's too. Utterly ordinary faces, seen anywhere. Not a speck unusual.
Sst!
Four Thousand Four seized the chief's head.