A servant knocked softly on the door to Nasura's private chambers. "Lord... Lord... there is a beautiful woman outside. She says she was hired for you. Should I let her in?"

Nasura hesitated in surprise. Who could have hired a woman for him? He hadn't set foot outside his manor for days, paralyzed by Lord Night's explicit warning forbidding him from leaving or seeing guests.

A woman, though? Nasura mused. Could Lord Night have taken pity on me, sending a woman so I wouldn't grow restless and wander out?

Prying open his window just a crack, he peered down into the courtyard. There stood the servant alongside a stunning young woman. Her shapely silhouette was unmistakable, her alluring beauty tantalizingly veiled by a translucent net draped from her wide hat. Throwing caution to the wind, Nasura convinced himself she was indeed a gift from Lord Night to keep him entertained indoors.

He hurried over and threw the door wide open. His heart hammered against his ribs at the sight of her delicate lips and captivating eyes glimpsed past the sheer mesh of her bamboo hat. It was an irresistible view.

"Get lost, and don't disturb me for the rest of the night!" Nasura barked at his servant before turning his greedy gaze back to the woman. It was going to be a glorious night.

The servant sulked silently, turning to leave without daring to utter a word of protest out of fear for his master's temper.

"Come inside, my sweet... hurry..." Unable to contain his eagerness, Nasura grabbed the woman by the arm and pulled her into the room, hurriedly shutting and bolting the door behind them.

Approaching her, his hands reached out impatiently. "Come to me, beautiful." He had completely lost his composure.

Just as Nasura’s hands reached out to lift the bamboo hat...

Woooosh!

A sharp gust of wind slapped against his face. The woman's netted hat went flying into the air, and the breathtaking beauty standing before him vanished at a blinding, impossible speed.

Before he could process what was happening, the cold, glowing edge of a sharp blade rested snugly against his throat. The woman had already materialized behind him, wielding an energy weapon poised to strike.

"Who... Who are you?" Nasura stammered, terror gripping his chest.

"Silence. Utter another sound, and you lose your life."

Before Nasura could recover from the shock, a figure dropped down seamlessly from the ceiling rafters. It wasn't Lord Night, but a young man who landed gracefully right in front of him. With the energy blade still pressed to his throat from behind, Nasura was thoroughly trapped.

"Answer our questions, or you die!" the youth demanded. Stepping into the light, his features became clear. It was Lao, dressed in the official uniform of the Sky Squad.

Meanwhile, shadow-clad figures leaped across rooftops at terrifying speeds. Agile and highly trained, they moved with remarkable swiftness, executing martial maneuvers to reach their target—a sprawling estate that served as the primary forge office for the Golden Crane Academy.

Crouching low upon the roof tiles, the assassins concealed themselves in the dark, peering down to monitor the main courtyard of the forge.

Below, a middle-aged man stepped out into the open air, stretching his right arm high while massaging his elbow with his left hand. Exhaling a tired sigh, he loosened his shoulders; he was thoroughly exhausted. It was Rakuta, having just finished inspecting the inner workshops of the forge.

Over ten dark-clothed operatives perched silently along the rooflines. Exchanging silent signals with quick nods, they unsheathed their weapons and dropped down simultaneously, encircling Rakuta in a tight perimeter.

Rakuta had sensed their hostile presence long before they made their move. Dropping into a low, balanced battle stance, he narrowed his eyes. It had been a long time since anyone had dared challenge him to a fight.

The strike commenced without warning. These were elite killers dispatched with a single objective: erase all evidence. The Chief Blacksmith, Rakuta, had to die tonight. Moving in synchronized harmony, the fifteen assassins divided their angles of attack, lunging forward with weapons primed to end Rakuta's life.

As the blades converged on him, a pair of glowing defensive barriers flared from his forearms. Embedded within his bracers were high-grade defense artifacts. Solid, shield-like light barriers expanded from his right and left arms, effortlessly repelling the furious flurry of incoming strikes.

Outnumbered, Rakuta retreated a few paces, searching for an opening.

The masked assassins pressed their assault again with relentless coordination. But just as they closed in on Rakuta, two blurry shadows lunged from his flanks, intercepting the strike. With a sequence of rapid counters, they deflected the incoming blades and knocked several attackers backward.

Standing back-to-back with their weapons drawn were a young man and a young woman—cousins Barsha and Aaman. Tasked by Aji with surveilling the forge office, they hadn't expected an actual assassination attempt against the Chief Blacksmith to unfold so quickly.

Now, they had to protect Rakuta. Fighting side by side brought a sudden wave of nostalgia; the two had spent countless hours sparring together in their youth, and it had been years since they last stood together on the battlefield.

A shared smile passed between them.

"Kill them all!" the masked lead assassin barked to his men. "Leave no one alive!"

As the assassins swarmed forward, Rakuta recognized that these two formidable fighters were on his side. Refusing to stand idly by while others fought his battle, he joined the fray, channeling his own martial strength to reinforce them.

Clang! Clang! Sraaakt!

The synergy between Barsha and Aaman proved devastating. One fought as a lethal assassin, while the other wielded the blade of an advanced swordsman—a martial art Aaman had recently refined. Aaman’s blade burst into a brilliant glow, channeling his newly awakened technique: a synthesis of high-tier swordsmanship and elemental magic wrapped around his steel.

This was far superior to standard sword techniques. His advanced swordsmanship doubled the impact of every slash, driving magical energy through the metal until the blade felt like an extension of his own body and soul.

The assassins unleashed attacks from every angle, but Barsha was no longer the fighter he once was. His speed had reached the peak of Rank 8. The specialized training he underwent with Warrior Jiro had fully awakened the ultimate assassin art his grandfather, Ganada, once mastered: Ghost Speed.

Warrior Jiro had told him he once studied directly under Ganada, allowing him to pass the supreme technique down to Ganada's true bloodline.

Ghost Speed represented the absolute pinnacle of an assassin's prowess. Moving at blinding velocity, Barsha counter-struck with ruthless efficiency, parrying lethal blows while taking down opponents one after another in swift, fluid strikes.

Impossible! What kind of power is this?! The lead assassin gasped in horror, watching Barsha’s incomprehensible speed effortlessly lay low two of his finest men in the blink of an eye.