Chapter 96
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 96
Chapter Title: Death vs Death (1)
Sss! Sss sss!
The grass rustled without a whisper of wind.
Four Thousand Four stroked his jade-fragrant white deer. He had sensed the arrival of visitors but made no move.
'Too late already. Right?'
The jade-fragrant white deer twitched its nose.
Judging by the footsteps, it wasn't Vanguard's group. No sounds from Jaja, Hanbi, or Fox either. These were completely unfamiliar... footsteps he'd never heard before.
Pursuers had come.
Who could they be? No doubt assassins dispatched from the Heavenly Annihilation Division.
Heh heh heh! A chuckle escaped him. How had they tracked him down?
The Zhuge family's pursuit tool was the jade-fragrant white deer. It could sniff out a unique scent no other could. And that scent emanated from his own body—thanks to the acupuncture treatments from the Zhuge clan.
But how did the Heavenly Annihilation Division find him?
Whatever the method, they had zeroed in with uncanny precision. No matter how deeply he hid, they pinpointed him like they had eyes on him.
How could anyone evade people like this? They'd hunt him to the ends of the earth.
That was why he hadn't budged.
He knew fleeing was pointless.
Four Thousand Four stroked the jade-fragrant white deer while closing his eyes and channeling all his senses into his ears.
One, two, three...
Their movements came into focus.
Footsteps closing in from all sides, centered on him. Six in total.
A murmur drifted from farther off.
Quite a distance away... They must have figured he couldn't hear.
His hearing, honed in the Nineteen Hells, transcended human limits.
It wasn't just from activating his ears in the dark. If so, every survivor of the Nineteen Hells would have sharp ears.
An assassin needed senses sharpened to the extreme.
While focusing utterly on the target, they had to stay alert for threats from any direction. No room for neglect inside or out.
Thus, the question arose: how to temper those five senses.
The Assassination Code offered its own methods.
Four Thousand Four had spent two years in pitch blackness without a sliver of light. Another two beside a roaring waterfall louder than thunder. A year in a scorching desert... His childhood memories were nothing but battles against nature's harshness.
Compared to those days, the Nineteen Hells had been a breeze.
Not just in words—his body and mind had truly relaxed, shedding their tension.
And in that respite, his senses sharpened further.
Not by deliberate effort... He knew the methods, his body had internalized them... It became as natural as breathing.
"Should we grab him?"
"We'll get him. What's the point of knowing where he is if we let him slip? If six of us lose one guy, ha! What a humiliation."
"I heard he killed that merchant wanderer."
"You think he did that alone? Vanguard helped. If you kill someone, do you do it solo?"
"That's not what I—"
"Heh heh heh! Honestly, I'd rather we miss him."
"What?"
"Heh heh heh! Meaning those guys all bite the dust. That Four Thousand Four must be worn out. Haha! Pretty sweet way to blow your nose without using your hands, eh?"
"Then we should prepare ourselves too."
"Yeah, get ready."
They spoke loudly enough.
Probably to relay it to the encircling assassins on purpose.
Don't come out till you're dead. Either kill the guy or you all die—pick one. I'd prefer you lot drop first. We'll clean up after.
The squad leader's intentions shone through crystal clear.
How must the attacking assassins feel, hearing such words before battle? Grinding their teeth, or maintaining an assassin's icy calm?
"No effect, huh?"
Four Thousand Four stroked the jade-fragrant white deer again.
The rear squad leader had tried a taunt, but it hadn't rattled the attackers.
The encirclement's footsteps remained utterly steady.
Not just the squad leader—the underlings were cold as ice too. Like daggers pressing in.
'People tamed by death... How many must they have killed to be this chill?'
Four Thousand Four shook his head.
Few could match his body count. In raw numbers, he'd rank in the top ten of the Central Plains, he figured.
Yet even now, his hands trembled before a kill.
He connected with the target. If they begged for mercy, his resolve wavered. Doubts crept in: Do I really have to? Maybe just walk away.
These ones were serpentine cold.
No hesitation in coming to kill. No thought of mental rapport. No pity or mercy for the prey. Just the will to end it.
True killers, as the Assassination Code described.
"Alright, let's prepare."
Four Thousand Four tucked the jade-fragrant white deer into his pocket. He secured it carefully against his chest.
Snap! Crack!
Twigs snapped here and there.
Faint sounds—so subtle you'd miss them without straining. But anyone listening could hear.
The noises came from six spots.
Silence fell briefly. Then, from one of the six, a figure rose.
He stepped out calmly, in plain view.
"Hmph!"
He placed a hand on a massive zelkova tree.
Traces of someone sitting there moments ago. The ground flattened smooth, the bark warm—warmth only an assassin could detect. Back against the trunk.
"Four Thousand Four, you know you can't escape."
He called out loudly.
"How about a proper man's fight? It's not that we can't find you..."
As he spoke,
"Guh!"
A sharp groan erupted from another spot.
In an instant, the other five launched forward.
No orders, no signals. Pure reflex ambush.
Swoosh! Ssswoosh!
The five converged on one spot.
They saw the assassin—neck snapped.
One hand gripped a sword, the other two daggers.
The dagger hand hadn't loosened—like it'd hurl them at the first gap. The sword hand stayed firm, ready to unleash a blade strike.
"Extreme Inch Kill!"
One of the five groaned it out.
Extreme Inch Kill: dying unknowing, in an instant.
From strike to death, less than a split-second—hence the name.
Four Thousand Four had unleashed it.
Strictly speaking, no—he hadn't fully. True Extreme Inch Kill leaves no groan. It's a drop from life to death.
Wrong. He had.
The dead man's face still held tension—not fear, but fighting spirit.
He'd groaned, but never saw it coming.
Extreme Inch Kill it was.
The groan? Four Thousand Four had held back, just a touch.
Delayed the instant slightly—to allow that sound.
Why? Obvious.
"Watch out! He's gearing up for a frontal fight."
"Warning us too... haha! Guess we don't look like assassins to him."
"Then make him see it."
The first assassin to show himself, who'd approached the zelkova, pulled a small cloth pouch from his bosom. Without pause, he dumped its contents on the ground.
Plop plop plop!
White ants poured out.
They milled confused at first. Then locked on a direction.
One scuttled into the woods—pop pop pop.
Incredibly fast. At least ten times normal ants. Like a martial artist sprinting at full tilt.
The rest streamed after—sssshhh.
A white line etched across the ground in seconds. Leader and followers tracing it white.
"There!"
No sooner had the leader pointed than two assassins charged in. Then the other three right behind. All five striking as one.
Whish whish whish!
Shuriken, flying swords, darts...暗器 tore the earth before they arrived.
Thwack! Thud!
A five-chi whip lashed first, coiling a huge tree.
Four Thousand Four was behind it. He'd been beside, saw the volley, ducked back. But a whip blocked this side. If he was there, he'd be bound with the tree!
Slash! Whack!
Twin blades hacked behind the tree. But,
"Huff!"
The wielder gasped empty air.
No one there. He'd clearly seen him slip behind moments ago... gone!
"Gone?"
"No way!"
"This bastard, how's he so fast?"
The assassins landed scattered.
They'd seen him dart back, just before the projectiles. A hair slower, and he'd be a pincushion.
The whip had followed instantly.
Should've snared him with the tree. But empty!
Scuttle scuttle!
The white ants zipped past them.
They veered away from the tree—opposite direction, drawing another white line.
"Huh? That way?"
"He came this way for sure—when'd he go there...?"
White ants didn't err. They tracked Four Thousand Four precisely. He carried their queen.
"Eyes sharp. No more slip-ups."
The assassins advanced cautiously.
Following the ants. With the ants guiding to him, they tailed carefully.
For now, the ants showed only direction. He could be hiding ahead or fleeing far. Either way, ants pursued.
Swoosh! Ssswoosh!
The assassins dashed after. But...!
They halted soon after.
One wasn't moving. The twin-blade guy who'd struck the tree—frozen.
Still staring at the tree.
The other four stared at him. At the tree-staring man.
"Damn it!"
One muttered.
The twin-blade man was dead. No clue when or how the ambush hit—but dead. Right beside them, and they hadn't noticed their comrade die.
Peak Extreme Inch Kill.
The leader said,
"Poison. Forgot he's a poison master. Take the antidote pills."
The leader swallowed his first.
Still baffling. When? What poison? Why only the twin-blade guy, not them?
Tss tss tss!
The white ants accelerated.
They'd locked onto Four Thousand Four's scent for sure.