The blade plunged down, and blood sprayed.
The sleeping bandit gave a muffled grunt and died. Then his body vanished into thin air. Not a drop of blood touched the bed, where the woman he had abducted by force still lay.
Pan Long smiled faintly and drifted out of the room like a shadow.
This mountain stronghold was called the Heavenly Wolf Stronghold. Its name sounded fierce, but there was nothing fierce about what its occupants did. They spent their days robbing homes and bullying the innocent, yet whenever soldiers escorted gold, silver, or provisions past the area, they never dared attack.
Even among the Greenwood, bandits like these were looked down on.
Given Pan Long's status, he probably had no business troubling himself with such lowly bandits. But he was in a foul mood. Wiping out these villains would ease the burden on the locals and help him vent his frustration. Two birds with one stone.
His frustration stemmed from his teacher's orders.
"Don't take part in the assault on Di Cangqiong. You're the only disciple left in the Confucian School's next generation. We can't afford to lose you." His teacher had been blunt. "Don't think I'm the only one preserving our strength. Everyone else is leaving a few disciples behind to carry on their traditions. Those disciples may be weak—together, they wouldn't be a match for you—but having a capable student doesn't mean the Confucian School should risk its last heir."
Pan Long could not argue. He could only nod and agree.
He knew his teacher was right. When the Hundred Schools of Thought besieged Di Cangqiong, the battle was bound to shake heaven and earth. Even Longevity Demon Gods might fall, let alone True Person Grandmasters. Di Cangqiong himself was a Demon God.
To kill a Demon