Assassins!

Xu Jingyao sat cross-legged on the bed, feeling the Soul Power inside him inch along at a turtle's pace.

The powers of life and destruction constantly swirled within him, colliding and fusing again and again before transforming into a wisp of silvery-gold Soul Power.

Green and purple intertwined, specks of light pouring into his body like a torrent.

Suddenly, his eyelid twitched, and a sense of imminent danger arose.

Xu Jingyao did not open his eyes, as though he had noticed nothing.

Here they come.

Ever since the day he moved into the Carefree King's Residence, he had known something like this would happen sooner or later.

The emperor's rewards had been too generous, and his residence had been built even larger than the Crown Prince's Residence. An adopted son of unknown origins had climbed to the rank of king-if those legitimate princes could swallow that, ghosts might as well be real.

What was more, Xu Tianran's attitude toward him was plain to see.

Once words like "my only younger brother" spread, it would have been strange if those princes had not boiled over.

Xu Jingyao slowly opened his eyes. The moonlight outside was cold and clear, and the wind rustled the shadows of the courtyard trees.

He sensed a fluctuation of Soul Power, around rank forty. No, that was wrong-there was more than one!

Not bad, not bad. They knew to send someone stronger. At least they were smarter than I imagined.

Sending a Soul Ancestor to assassinate a six-year-old child really was giving him a great deal of credit.

Unfortunately, that credit was for his status, not his strength.

They figured that even if he had awakened his Martial Soul, he was merely a Soul Master!

What was more, as it happened, the device meant for him had not yet been issued.

A dark figure flashed through the window, moving with incredible speed. A poisoned short blade in his hand gleamed an eerie blue beneath the moonlight.

The intruder was dressed entirely in black, his face covered by a mask that left only a pair of cold, fierce eyes exposed.

Xu Jingyao remained seated on the bed, as though he had yet to react.

A trace of contempt flashed through the assassin's eyes, and his short blade stabbed straight for Xu Jingyao's throat.

Then his hand stopped.

Three inches from Xu Jingyao's neck, the short blade could not advance another fraction.

At some point, Xu Jingyao had raised his right hand and firmly caught the blade's tip between two fingers.

An extremely faint purple glow wreathed his fingertips. The aura of the Destruction Core spread up the short blade, and the instant the purple light touched its poisoned edge, cracks spread along it inch by inch.

The assassin's pupils abruptly contracted.

"A rank-forty Soul Ancestor, visiting my residence in the dead of night." A hint of mockery colored Xu Jingyao's voice. "Which prince is your master? Let me guess... the Third Prince? Or the Fifth Prince?"

The assassin sharply pulled back his blade and retreated, but the Power of Destruction had already eaten away half of it.

He reacted extremely quickly. With a turn of his left hand, another dagger appeared, and as he shot backward, he flung three poisoned needles at Xu Jingyao.

It had to be said, he had quite the Tang Sect flair!

Especially those little poisoned needles!

Xu Jingyao did not so much as move.

Halfway through their flight, the poisoned needles suddenly seemed to strike an invisible wall, falling to the floor with three metallic chinks.

A Badge on his chest lit up in an instant, its golden light shielding Xu Jingyao's entire body.

Several figures soon flashed past. Xu Jingyao slowly stood as well, smiling as he clapped his hands. "Not bad, not bad. Quite a crowd!"

The instant those assassins realized they had been exposed, they did not hesitate at all.

Twelve figures sprang from the shadows, their Soul Power erupting simultaneously.

Soul Kings, Soul Emperors, Soul Ancestors-twelve people in all. The radiance of their Soul Rings rose and crossed, white, yellow, purple, and black weaving beneath the moonlight into a curtain bristling with murderous intent.

Xu Jingyao clicked his tongue.

He rose from the bed, his bare feet touching the icy floor tiles as the hem of his night robe swayed gently.

Twelve assassins, the weakest a Soul Ancestor and the strongest a Soul Emperor-this lineup could have swaggered down any street in Mingdu.

Yes, they would have had absolutely no trouble being street bullies!

It seemed those brothers he had acquired really had poured in their resources, terrified he might not die thoroughly enough.

"How lavish."

He slowly raised his right hand, his fingertips stirring slightly.

An Antique Long Sword materialized out of thin air. Its body had neither a honed edge nor a blade, and it was translucent as crystal, with seven streams of light winding around it.

Immediately afterward, two bright yellow Soul Rings slowly rose from beneath his feet, looking especially striking in the moonlight.

All twelve assassins paused for an instant.

Two yellow Soul Rings? A six-year-old child who only awakened his Martial Soul three days ago-something was wrong with his Innate Soul Power!

What the fuck kind of monster was this?

"Since you've seen my Soul Rings, sorry, but I can only silence you forever!" A trace of killing intent flashed across Xu Jingyao's face.

"Don't just stand there! Attack together! However gifted he is, he's still only one person!" the leading Soul Emperor shouted sharply. All twelve lunged at once, unleashing their Soul Skills together. Flashes of blades, shadows of swords, and torrents of Soul Power bore down from every direction, sealing off every route of retreat Xu Jingyao had.

The corners of Xu Jingyao's mouth lifted slightly.

He raised his sword, pointing its tip toward the sky. His voice rang clear, as though he were casually reciting a line of poetry.

"Flames burn the heavens as the sword dances; wherever red lotuses bloom, all turns to ash!"

His second Soul Ring abruptly lit up. The instant its bright yellow light burst forth, an aura of utmost scorching heat surged from the sword.

Crimson flames sprang into existence, gathering around him in the shapes of twelve lotuses, each precisely meeting an oncoming assassin.

"Heaven-Burning Sword Dance."

The instant the sword move descended, all twelve red lotuses bloomed.

Boom-

Flames soared into the sky, the heat instantly scorching and curling the window paper throughout the entire bedchamber.

These flames were naturally no ordinary Soul Power flames. A faint, elusive purple glow mingled within them, and the aura of the Destruction Core gave them an almost greedy power to devour.

It was not merely an innate destruction attribute, but Ultimate Fire as well!

Where the red lotuses bloomed, flames clung to the assassins' bodies like living creatures, burning from skin into bone, burrowing from their exteriors into their souls.

"Aaaaah-!"

Wails rose one after another. The moment the flames touched the twelve assassins, their agonized screams nearly tore the night sky apart.

Some tried to extinguish them with Soul Power, but the more they fought the flames, the fiercer they burned.

Some turned to flee, but the instant the red lotuses bloomed, they sealed off every direction. Their bodies rapidly blackened, cracked, and turned to drifting ash within the flames, burning away bit by bit, starting with their limbs.

Xu Jingyao narrowed his eyes as he watched. The flames reflected on his face, staining his smiling eyes crimson.

"Not lively enough."

He raised his sword again, and his first Soul Ring lit up.

"Wind checks the fire's might; wind passes without a trace, yet the sword rings, one long song stirring the nine heavens."

"Wind-Chanting Sword Song."

The sword trembled lightly, and a blue-green Wind Blade swept from its tip. The wind borrowed the fire's momentum, and the fire bolstered the wind's might. Swept along by the gale, the already ferocious crimson flames instantly became a prairie-devouring sea of fire, turning the entire bedchamber into an inferno.

The Wind Blades pierced every gap, and the flames burned everywhere. Before the assassins could even form a complete syllable of their screams, the intertwined torrent of wind and fire swallowed them utterly.

The wind stopped.

The fire went out.

Only charred marks remained in the bedchamber, along with twelve human heads arranged neatly on the floor.

A bunch of trash. Nothing more!