White Rock Slope

He Ming's was still the only voice in the tent, but the eyes beneath the Demon Hunters' masks had taken on a steely edge.

He Ming did not belabor the point. He began calling names and assigning tasks.

"Military Breaker."

A burly Demon Hunter rose at once, his voice low beneath his mask. "Here."

"Take seven comrades to Frost River Mouth in the south."

"A shipment will pass through there tonight under the guise of goods belonging to the Great Origin Society. Cut it off. Leave no survivors!"

Military Breaker nodded without another word, and He Ming called the next name.

"Broken Blade."

"Here."

"Go to Northwatch Town. There's a small stronghold there. Six people will meet you, all at Qi Condensation. Take five comrades and wipe it out!"

Broken Blade acknowledged the order and sat back down.

"Shadow Ambush."

"Here!"

"Go to Falling Cloud Slope. Watch an inn at the foot of the slope called Drifting. Remember everyone who goes in, and quietly deal with anyone who comes out. It's one of their contact points, so handle it carefully."

"Understood."

He Ming called seven or eight Demon Hunters in quick succession. Each rose and accepted the assignment without hesitation. They clearly trusted him deeply.

Most of the Demon Hunters He Ming had named were locals from Annan.

The two Silver-Rank Demon Hunters, meanwhile, had not spoken once. They simply listened, occasionally exchanging a glance or a slight nod.

Neither had a specific assignment. They were there to hear He Ming's arrangements for his subordinates for one reason.

They would decide their own course of action. If they thought something had gone wrong somewhere, that was where they would go. It was the customary way for Silver-Rank Demon Hunters to operate.

After all, every Silver-Rank Demon Hunter was exceptionally capable