Purpose and the Star Gods' Descent

"Heh, looks like we're pretty famous~"

At that, the woman smiled.

The man behind her remained silent, like a silent mountain—or rather, a silent coffin filled with blades.

He merely drew the ancient sword wrapped in bandages. Beneath the bandages, its blade looked as though it had been dug out from the dust of history, covered in fine cracks and forcibly held together by some obsessive force.

The next second, the mountain moved.

Without a sound or warning, he vanished from behind the woman and reappeared at Zhang Qi's left.

Space beneath his feet crumpled like paper, allowing him to cross more than ten meters in a single step.

Sword energy sliced through the damp air of the alley, carrying the scent of old rust and blood as it slashed straight for Zhang Qi's neck.

But the blade cut through nothing but a fading afterimage.

Boom!

The screen wall behind the teahouse, carved with the three gods of "Fortune, Prosperity, and Longevity," was split down the middle by that strike. Bricks and glazed roof tiles came crashing down, kicking up a choking cloud of dust.

"I don't think I have anything on me worth the Stellaron Hunters' attention."

Zhang Qi's voice came from the other side. He stood unharmed beneath the crooked ginkgo tree at the mouth of the alley, dusting off his sleeves. His expression was like someone at a mahjong table who had just had a false win called against him—somewhat helpless, and somewhat baffled.

"Oh? You actually broke free from my Spirit Word so easily?"

The woman raised a brow.

At last, a trace of what could be called "surprise" appeared in those beautiful eyes.

"Be careful, Kafka. This man is extremely dangerous!"

At that moment, the projection of a petite silver-haired figure abruptly appeared beside Kafka,