This Assassin Was Incredibly Wealthy

Lin Zhao truly had not expected this assassin to be so obscenely wealthy!

He poured all the banknotes, silver taels, and gold ingots he had searched out into a deerskin bag. Judging roughly by the weight, there were nearly three thousand taels of silver!

Together with no fewer than twenty-five thousand taels in banknotes, the total exceeded thirty thousand taels. In the Jiajing era, that sum could cover two years of military pay and body-tempering supplies for a thousand soldiers in a local training camp.

"Is the assassin trade really this profitable? Why not throw away this post as a Hundred-Household Officer and join the Deathseeker Sect as an assassin? That would be far more satisfying!" Lin Zhao clicked his tongue in amazement.

What he did not know was that this assassin, Zhou Bo'an, was a Silver Rank Assassin of Night Raven Tower. In the martial world, he was known as the "Blood Raven Reaper." His internal martial arts had already reached the intermediate Entering Martial Master realm, and he had never failed in more than twenty previous assassinations.

Hiring him ordinarily required a down payment of four thousand taels, with the remainder paid upon completion. On top of that, the client had to offer half a tael of Spirit Condensing Grass—such medicinal herbs were enormously beneficial for stabilizing the qi and blood of intermediate martial artists.

After Night Raven Tower took its thirty-percent cut, together with the valuables he took after each successful job, these thirty thousand taels of silver had been saved by Zhou Bo'an to redeem his ancestral lands that had been confiscated and his hereditary Thousand-Household post. Aside from buying body-tempering salves, heart-protecting powders, medicine, and dry rations, he had not dared spend a single coin recklessly.

Everyone lamented how difficult it was to make money, yet they did not know that the easiest methods were all written in the treason section of the Great Ming Code.

If one could truly cast aside morality, family, and life itself, making money was never difficult. The hard part was having the life to earn it and the life to spend it—how many martial artists had fallen into the trap of "wealth stirring men's hearts"? Zhou Bo'an had ultimately been no exception.

The banknotes were easy enough to carry, but three thousand taels of silver weighed over thirty pounds. An ordinary martial artist would struggle to haul it around. Fortunately, Lin Zhao had practiced martial arts since childhood, possessed internal qi, and had strength beyond ordinary men, allowing him to lift it with ease. It truly lived up to the old saying: counting money until one's hands cramped.

He searched through the side rooms and storerooms of the three-courtyard residence again. What he most wanted to find was Zhou Bo'an's copy of the Leopard Shadow Steps manual.

During their earlier fight, that assassin's movement technique had been the finest Lin Zhao had ever encountered. His footwork struck the acupoints with precision, and as he shifted about, he could actually deflect thirty percent of an internal qi strike. Had the other man known the defensive marvels of Lin Zhao's ancestral Mystic Dragon Breathing Technique, Lin Zhao feared he would already have died on the spot.

Unfortunately, after searching the hidden compartments beneath the brick floor and within the beams, he could not find even half a torn page of a martial manual. He could only give up.

The night deepened. A cold wind swept dead leaves into spirals against the courtyard walls, the iron chimes beneath the eaves clinked and rang, and several old crows wailed mournfully in the distance.

Holding the Frost Condensation Sword in one hand, Lin Zhao sat before a rosewood table in the main hall, gnawing on a wheat cake with cold water. His gaze burned as he stared at the courtyard gate.

The superficial wounds left by the earlier battle had gradually healed with the aid of the heart-protecting powder in his robes. His internal qi now circulated through its full circuit, restoring him to peak condition.

He secretly rejoiced that his ancestral Mystic Dragon Breathing Technique specialized in body tempering and defense. It was a foundational method among internal hard martial arts. Upon reaching the fourth level, it could condense a thin qi shield across the body's surface. When faced with an ambush like this, it proved that wearing the thickest armor was the true path to survival.

He remained awake all night. Before the sky had even begun to pale, extremely faint footsteps sounded from the street—the steps were steady, clearly belonging to a martial wanderer trained in rudimentary footwork. Even the slightest sound on the bluestone pavement outside the courtyard could be heard distinctly.

Lin Zhao's eyes suddenly narrowed. Every muscle in his body tightened like a fully drawn bow, his internal qi sank into his dantian, and he became like a tiger poised to pounce, hiding in the shadows behind the door.

A figure wrapped in a black cloak hesitantly pushed open the half-closed wooden gate. Seeing the bloodstains in the courtyard and the split doorframe, he could not help cursing under his breath. "What the hell is Zhou Bo'an doing? He went out to collect the target last night, and his own nest got ransacked?"

Before his words had faded, a pagoda-like figure blocked the doorway. The vicious rakshasa mask remained on his face, blood still stained the Frost Condensation Sword, and he spoke in a chilling voice. "I have waited here for you a long time. Hand over your life!"

"Y-you're Lin Zhao?! You're not dead? Zhou Bo'an, he..." The broker staggered back half a step, his face beneath the cloak instantly draining of color—Zhou Bo'an was an expert of the Lesser Celestial Circuit realm. Had he actually fallen to this man?

The reply was a sword flash that tore through the darkness. The Frost Condensation Sword swept out wreathed in internal qi, bringing a howling gale straight toward his face.

This broker was a middleman of Night Raven Tower, responsible for connecting assassins with their employers. Although he belonged to the Tower, his duties were merely running errands and relaying messages. His martial skill was barely ranked; he had practiced only a few years of crude fist-and-kick techniques and had not even condensed his internal qi into form.

He hurriedly drew the saber at his waist to block. With a crisp crack, the Frost Condensation Sword came down wrapped in internal qi, snapping the saber in two. The remaining force surged up his arm and through his entire body, making his qi and blood churn as sweetness filled his throat.

Even Zhou Bo'an, an intermediate Entering Martial Master, had fallen. How could his own unranked skills possibly stand against this opponent?

Run!

He had to flee back and report this!

Lin Zhao, this baleful star, was far too savage. Unless the employer was willing to pay more and hire a Gold Rank Assassin of the Hall realm,

or even a Profound Rank Assassin, however many Silver and Bronze Rank brothers came would merely be sending themselves to their deaths!

That Night Raven Guest sent ahead to scout the way had likely fallen to him as well!

But how could Lin Zhao allow this only clue to slip away?

With a blur, he closed in like a starving tiger pouncing on prey. Could the explosive speed of the fourth level of the Mystic Dragon Breathing Technique be empty talk?

Though it was not as swift as Zhou Bo'an's Leopard Shadow Steps, it was more than enough to deal with an ordinary common fighter.

He seized the other man's shoulder with one hand and slammed downward. With a muffled bang, the broker's forehead smashed viciously into the bluestone paving. Blood immediately gushed from his temple, while bloody foam ran from his mouth and nose.

Both were martial artists, yet the gulf between their realms was this vast!

"Too weak! Too weak! Too weak!" Lin Zhao roared, driving his long sword straight down through the man's shoulder blade and pinning him to the ground.

The chill of the cold iron sword seeped through his clothes. Lin Zhao narrowed his eyes, his tone brimming with killing intent. "Speak! Who sent you to kill me?"

"Hmph. Kill me if you want, but do not dream of getting a single word from me!" The broker gritted his teeth and held on, blood continuously spilling from the corners of his mouth.

He had been a deathsworn cultivated by Night Raven Tower. Since childhood, he had been indoctrinated with the belief that the Lord of the Night Ravens stood above all else. Core contact men like him were all characters who would rather die than yield.

Lin Zhao twisted his wrist, and the Frost Condensation Sword slowly sliced open the man's chest. Blood sprayed out as organs, flesh, and skin rolled outward into the open air.

The broker's face turned white as paper. Gathering his final strength, he shrieked, "Kill me! Lord Xuanying will make sure you die without a burial!"

"Too noisy!" Lin Zhao snorted coldly. His sword swept sideways, and the man's head immediately separated from his body.

He searched the corpse once more. As expected, there was not even half a note or a single Hall token on him. He was truly clean as a whistle.

"Won't talk? Then send more men! I'd like to see just how many lives your Night Raven Tower has to throw into the pit!" Lin Zhao's eyes reddened. He swung his sword in a frenzy, hacking until the corpse was chopped to pieces, then carried the remains to the stove in the rear courtyard and tossed them in, listening to the sizzling of burning fat.

He walked outside the courtyard, drew a deep breath of the cold morning air, and took another bite of wheat cake to suppress the viciousness in his heart.

By the time his emotions settled, the horizon had turned fish-belly white. The first ray of dawn fell upon his blood-smeared face, making the mask appear even more ferocious.

Lin Zhao went to the washroom and cleaned himself with cold water. Looking at his bloodshot eyes in the bronze mirror, he fell silent for a moment—though he had won last night's battle, it had exposed the weakness in his movement techniques. He would need to find a lightness skill to make up for it in the future.

After confirming there was nothing else of value in the residence, he carried over the pine resin logs stacked in the storeroom and piled them throughout the main hall and side rooms. Then he took a firebrand from the stove and lit them.

The raging flames quickly devoured the entire residence, while thick smoke billowed straight into the sky.

Lin Zhao's figure gradually vanished into the morning mist, leaving behind nothing but a sea of fire.

Murder and arson brought gold belts around the waist; the ancients had not deceived Lin Zhao.

The unexpected windfall of tens of thousands of taels in silver made his heart float with delight.

One standard silver tael weighed six mace. Including his original savings, he now carried over fifty pounds of silver on him. He did not even dare walk too heavily, afraid the heavy clinking might draw the covetous gazes of others—he secretly regretted not having one of the rumored Hundred Treasure Pouches. Such a martial-world wonder could hold several stone of goods, sparing him this constant anxiety.

"There is plenty of money, but I need to find the Mystic Armored Pangolin Dragon core as soon as possible. Carrying so much silver on me is not a long-term solution. I need to find a safe place to hide it, then figure out how to transport it back after this is over."

Lin Zhao acted as soon as he decided. He immediately left the Northern Garrison—this border military stronghold was still asleep, its city gates not yet fully open. Using the shadows by the walls, he climbed out of the city. After making sure no one was following him, he ran into the wilderness.

He headed northwest and walked roughly a thousand paces before finding a mountain ridge blanketed in dense pine and cypress forest.

Choosing an old pine with gnarled branches as a marker, he took out the short shovel at his waist and dug a pit three feet deep. He buried the silver taels, tightly wrapped in oilcloth, then carried over loose stones to weigh down the top. After sweeping away the disturbed soil, it looked no different from the surrounding ground. Only then did he clap the dirt from his hands.

He did not leave immediately. Instead, he circled around to a distant pine tree and crouched there for two hours—given Night Raven Tower's style, there might well be a tail following him. Only after seeing no one approach did he breathe a sigh of relief and hurry along the ridge toward Northern Garrison. The time Zhao Zhong had set for their rendezvous was nearly here.

Only after Lin Zhao heard passersby mention that "Zhou Bo'an's residence caught fire" did he learn that the earlier assassin had been a Banner Commander of Northern Garrison.

The residence had already been secluded, and there had been no one nearby when it happened. Once the fire burned through it, not even a trace remained.

Given the investigative ability of the current garrison training camps—mostly aged weaklings collecting pay for empty posts—it would likely be difficult for them to trace it back to him. Lin Zhao therefore did not dwell on it.

The following morning, near the western gate of Northern Garrison, a convoy of military supply carriages slowly set out. Five people accompanied the carriages, some mounted and some on foot. They were Lin Zhao's group.

He had already met up with Zhao Zhong and prepared his gear. They intended to head for the habitat of the Mystic Armored Pangolin Dragon Zhao Zhong had mentioned.

"Everyone, before we set out, let me make our roles clear once more." Zhao Zhong reined in his horse, his voice deepening. He had once been an instructor at the garrison, and his hard martial arts had reached the peak of the unranked level. "I will locate the Mystic Armored Pangolin Dragon. Li Cangying, use the speed advantage of your Wind Chasing Steps to lure that beast within the range of the armor-piercing crossbow. Zhou Xuan, as our shield-armored fighter, use the Mystic Iron Shield to withstand it and do not let it charge about. Xie Hongling, coat the arrows with Seven Absolute Soul Chasing Poison, then help Rakshasa Brother keep watch over the surroundings so he can focus on shooting."

"Understood." Li Cangying flipped himself nimbly and landed steadily on horseback—his Wind Chasing Steps were not as swift as Zhou Bo'an's Leopard Shadow Steps, but they were still among the notable lightness skills of the martial world.

Zhou Xuan swept his gaze over the group before fixing his eyes on Lin Zhao. He believed his martial skills were the strongest among the five and that he bore the heaviest responsibility. He had always doubted the archery of this last addition, Rakshasa. "I only hope none of you delay us."

"There is one more matter." Zhao Zhong frowned deeply, clearly concerned about this hastily assembled group. "The territory of the Mystic Armored Pangolin Dragon lies at Black Wind Pass, on the border between the Ming Dynasty and the Oirat. Besides guarding against the ferocious beast, we must also beware the Oirat Eagle Archers. The Grandmaster Warrior injured by the Pangolin Dragon earlier has yet to return any news. The Oirat may have discovered its trail as well and could send people to seize the Pangolin Dragon."

Lin Zhao traveled with caution the entire way, afraid that the assassins of Night Raven Tower might come after him again.

Though he had killed both attackers in their two assassination attempts, he did not dare lower his guard in the slightest—Night Raven Tower could even dispatch intermediate Entering Martial Master assassins, so there was no guarantee it did not have even stronger Peak Martial Masters.

For this journey, he had spent a considerable sum at Northern Garrison to purchase a cold iron willow-leaf chainmail shirt. If Mountain Pattern Armor had not been so heavy and chafing for long-distance travel, he would have wanted to wear it outright.

Besides that, his quiver was packed with feathered arrows. A Black-tipped Dagger hung at his left waist, the Cold Iron Frost Condensing Sword at his right, and the saltpeter powder taken from the assassin was tucked into his robes, ready to scatter into an enemy's eyes at any time. He was armed from head to toe, leaving nothing to chance.

The group traveled for three days and three nights before reaching the habitat Zhao Zhong had described. It was an enormous valley filled with mixed woodland. In the distance, the Yin Mountains rose and fell in endless succession, snow covering their peaks—that was the boundary mountain range between the Ming Dynasty and the Oirat. Beyond those mountains lay the Oirat grasslands. It was said that the Eagle Archers there possessed godlike Archery and practiced the grasslands' hard martial arts; their tempers were even wilder than the Ming Dynasty's garrison soldiers.

This Mystic Armored Pangolin Dragon was originally a ferocious beast of the Oirat grasslands. It possessed scales and armor, immense strength, and a trace of ancient beast blood in its veins. It had likely migrated here from the other side.

The farther they entered the valley, the harder the road became. The military supply carriages could not be pushed any farther, so Zhao Zhong and Zhou Xuan simply carried the heavy armor-piercing crossbow themselves.

At last, they set the crossbow on a high slope. Looking down from there, they could see every movement in the valley clearly.

"The Mystic Armored Pangolin Dragon's nest I marked is up ahead." Zhao Zhong's expression was grave as he pointed to a patch of low woods in the valley. "Xie Hongling and Rakshasa Brother, prepare here. The three of us will go lure that beast over.

Rakshasa Brother, remember this—the Mystic Armored Pangolin Dragon's only weak points are its eyes and the skull behind them.

Its scales cannot be cleaved even by ordinary swords and sabers. Even if an arrow pierces them, it will not die quickly. Xie Hongling's Seven Absolute Soul Chasing Poison is fierce, but even it will struggle to bring the beast down in a single blow.

You must show your true skill. Otherwise, even an injured Mystic Armored Pangolin Dragon can bury every one of us in this valley."

His words were both a warning and a knock upon the drum—this battle rested entirely on Lin Zhao's arrows. If Lin Zhao missed or harbored other intentions, none of them would survive.

"You only need to handle your own business. There will be no mistake on my end." Lin Zhao's tone was calm, but there was not the slightest fear in his eyes, only confidence—his Archery was at full mastery. Combined with the steady strength of his Mystic Dragon Breathing Technique's internal qi, hitting every target was no empty boast.

"I hope so." Zhou Xuan snorted and turned toward the bottom of the slope, with Li Cangying and Zhao Zhong following close behind.

Only then did Xie Hongling take a small white porcelain bottle from the lining of her armor. When she removed the stopper, a strange sweet fragrance drifted out—it was Seven Absolute Soul Chasing Poison, brewed from six deadly poisons such as Intestine Severing Grass and Crane Top Red. This single bottle had consumed half a year of her savings and painstaking effort.

"Rakshasa Brother, this medicine is my most treasured possession." Xie Hongling smiled as she spoke. Pinching an arrowhead between her fingers, she carefully coated it in poison. "You had better shoot accurately. Do not waste my hard work."

She had chosen to apply the poison now because she feared its potency would dissipate—such precious poison could not afford to waste even the smallest amount.

"With a beauty like you watching beside me, my arrows will only be more accurate than you imagine." Keeping his eyes fixed on the movement at the valley entrance, Lin Zhao answered casually. He had already picked up a poisoned feathered arrow and set it on the armor-piercing crossbow. Internal qi slowly flowed into the shaft as he waited for the armored earth dragon to appear.