There is an old saying that a man feels a stomachache when his cousin buys land—envy is, after all, a natural human ailment. However, in the Unorthodox factions, when a rival buys land, one does not merely suffer a stomachache; one’s life falls into immediate jeopardy.

The idyllic image of martial brothers laughing together, building camaraderie and loyalty, belongs strictly to the prestigious Orthodox sects rooted in Daoism or Buddhism, such as Wudang, Shaolin, or Mount Hua. Of course, since humans reside there as well, a closer look would undoubtedly reveal their own unspeakable stories. Similarly, scenes of a Clan Head wielding a sword to test his heirs are typical of Orthodox clans bound by blood, like the Namgung or Hwangbo families.

Even in those hallowed halls, competition is fierce. Yet, siblings like the Namgung brother and sister, the Hwangbo siblings, or the Gongsun sisters manage to maintain a semblance of harmony. Sometimes, as in the case of Tang Ah from the Sichuan Tang Clan, a single prodigy stands out so starkly that the succession structure is settled before blood can be shed.

However, the Unorthodox factions possess no such grace.

To an Unorthodox master, a disciple is merely a tool for generating wealth.

Disciples of assassin sects accept contracts and execute killings to enrich their masters. The same logic applies to the bandits of the Green Forest or the pirates of the Water Strongholds. In that sense, the Golden King was Unorthodox to the bone.

Assassin Number Eleven ruminated on this reality as he awaited the signal.

His designation was Number Eleven for a simple reason: among the fifty orphans the assassin sect had abducted, he was the eleventh child. He was also the sole survivor.

His master, the Dark Blood Wolf, had secretly herded the orphans into a small cave and subjected them to endless, brutal trials. The master had no doubt that once the survivor’s martial arts were perfected, he would become the greatest assassin under the heavens.

Thus, Number Eleven spent his childhood devoid of a name. Human emotions had long been excised during those years; he had personally slaughtered his competitors, Number Twenty-Two and Number Forty, to claim the position of the sole disciple.

And then, his master… gathered another fifty orphans.

Children who would eventually become Number Eleven’s competitors were being raised in that very sect at this moment. It wasn’t even the greatest assassin sect in the world, nor was his master one of the Ten Greatest Masters. Yet, this was simply how the Unorthodox factions operated.

Behind his master stood a nameless high-ranking official providing sponsorship. Occasionally, children disappeared on “long-term missions,” led away by the official’s henchmen. Whether those children lived or died, no one knew. What work they performed, or where they were discarded, remained a mystery.

Only one thing was certain: the world required children whose names and origins had been erased, who had learned nothing but the art of killing.

That was the nature of this world. Money was abundant enough to rot in storehouses, and human lives could be manipulated with terrifying ease. After all, there were more unregistered vagrants avoiding taxes than citizens on the census. In these vast Central Plains, people were more numerous than grains of sand, and their lives were often worth even less.

Shiiiiing—

A super-high-frequency resonance, laced with internal energy, pierced the air. It was a frequency audible only to trained assassins.

Move out!

Number Eleven and his cohorts moved in unison.

It was a dark night. The moon hung bright in the sky, yet the compound lacked guards. Whether the defenders were negligent or laying a trap, he could not tell. He and the other assassins read the flow of the air and detonated smoke bombs against the earth.

Hiss, hiss, hisssss—

Invisible vapor hugged the ground and slithered downward. Thanks to the basin terrain, they confirmed the poisonous fog flowed into the workshop and settled low.

The name of this toxin was the Thousand Beast Poison.

Colorless, odorless, and fatal to animals.

A poison once discarded because it had no effect on humans was now being deployed for a singular purpose: to neutralize the two spirit beasts guarding Jin Cheon-hee.

Target priority one was Hwanggu. That dog was a thorn in their side. Its ability to detect scents from a distance and warn its master made it the natural enemy of assassins.

Yelp!

Just then, an unlucky fox passing by let out a single sharp cry and rolled over, appearing as if it had simply fallen asleep. Blisters bubbled up instantly on the dead animal’s body. A beast claimed by the Thousand Beast Poison could not even be consumed; not only did the meat foul, but ingesting it would cause severe illness.

The dispersal of the poison was invisible to the human eye, but wherever it passed, wildlife perished without fail. The toxic fog released by assassins stationed at various points mid-mountain reached the workshop and seeped deep inside.

It was a divine move.

Dozens of assassins continued to release the stores they had prepared. The ambient sound of chirping insects gradually ceased. Number Eleven watched as the chickens in the coop toppled over, stone dead.

The toxic fog spread in all directions, riding the wind relentlessly. No matter how powerful a spirit beast might be, it would not survive inhaling the Thousand Beast Poison.

How much time had passed?

Finally, the second signal rang out.

Chirp-chirp, shiiiiing—!

Enter.

Number Eleven descended the mountain slope with the other assassins. The movement techniques of first-rate killers were stealthy beyond compare; despite the large number of men running, not even the rustle of leaves betrayed their position.

Complete silence.

Shadows leaped over the walls. The slaughter was about to begin.

At that moment, Number Eleven felt a jarring disconnect. He was certain he had vaulted the wall, yet another wall stood immediately before him.

A formation!

The other assassins, equally flushed with confusion, gripped their weapons tight.

Thwip!

An arrow grazed his side. Simultaneously, a shaft imbued with internal energy pierced through another assassin’s face.

“Enemy attack—!”

How?! Was Hwanggu awake?

***

Jin Cheon-hee watched the unfolding situation from the roof.

The audacity of these wretches. To dare target Hwanggu?

He was forced to watch in real-time as the hens sleeping peacefully in the coop, along with the horses and cows, all perished. The poison was so potent that every exposed animal collapsed and died without even a scream.

There are countless poisons in the world unbeknownst to me.

It was only natural. This was the Gangho, after all.

Hwanggu, reduced in size by the Muscle-Shrinking Art, was perched atop Jin Cheon-hee’s head. The dog hadn’t smelled the assassins. No one could have imagined that an entire squad would climb halfway up the mountain solely to deploy an anti-beast fog; if Hwanggu had smelled it, he would have been on a one-way trip to the afterlife.

However, Jin Cheon-hee had detected the strange resonance they used for signaling. It was thanks to the Seven Demonic Zither, a supreme sound art.

Whine—

“It’s okay. Don’t be down. Those bastards are the bad ones; what did you do wrong?”

Hwanggu had been whimpering for some time, clearly upset that his master had noticed the enemy attack before he did.

“And don’t breathe too deeply; it’s not safe here either. No, actually… Noe-jin.”

Screech?

“The poison fog might rise to the roof, so take Hwanggu far away. You should escape too.”

Screech, chirp-chirp!

“You don’t need to scout. The goal is to defend the workshop. Your lives are more important.”

Screech?

“You can do it. A fully grown Heavenly Thunder Hawk can snatch up a cow if it wants to. You can definitely carry Hwanggu.”

Chirp-screeeech—

Noe-jin circled Jin Cheon-hee anxiously, then reluctantly snatched Hwanggu with his talons and flew into the distance.

With that, all the animal companions were evacuated. If Noe-jin and Hwanggu had inhaled that poison and died, Jin Cheon-hee knew he would have lost his mind.

He drew his horn bow and looked down. Below the roof, roughly a hundred first-rate assassins were storming the perimeter. Although they were momentarily stymied by the defensive formation, their skillful attempts to dismantle it suggested the enemy had hired expensive professionals.

It wouldn’t hold for long.

These assassins aren’t the main force, are they?

The hundred or so men were undoubtedly skilled. However, the nature of their attack gave him the distinct impression that another hand was being played. This was an intuition only a strategist who had experienced real war could possess.

For some reason, he felt the true threat was hidden.

Jin Cheon-hee clenched and unclenched his hand, then knocked an arrow. It was the weapon gifted to him by the Phantom Archer in the past. Instead of a physical arrow, a Qi projectile formed from the Heavenly Soft-Essence Penetration rested in the young man’s hand. And that technique was undoubtedly…

Wind God’s Bow—!

Thwack!

Amidst the Lightning Dragon Arrows of the White Qilin Unit, Jin Cheon-hee’s Wind God’s Bow flew. Though it was a projectile of Qi, it was imbued with blue Sword Qi, creating a trajectory like a comet. The jade-colored trail pierced through the bodies of the assassins without fail.

“Watch out for the blue arrows!” someone shouted.

Their response was quick; even in this chaotic melee, they realized one archer was distinct.

“The arrow is imbued with Hardened Qi!”

Hmm, they noticed the Hardened Qi too? They’re skilled.

Acknowledging their competence, he continued to fire the Wind God’s Bow rapidly. His strikes were rougher than usual, fueled by the rage that Noe-jin and Hwanggu had nearly been killed.

Spray paralysis poison on me instead! Why touch my kids?! The poor thing was so dispirited he wouldn’t even eat his snack!

Noe-jin had eaten. Perhaps because the hawk had struggled against nature since birth, he didn’t seem shocked by this level of threat. But Hwanggu was different.

Anyone who has raised a dog knows the sinking feeling when their pet suddenly refuses a treat. It is one thing if the dog isn’t food-motivated (though that is worrisome too), but when a gluttonous dog turns his head away from a snack and trudges to a corner… sirens wail in the owner’s head as they scoop the animal up and rush to the hospital.

Hwanggu had refused dried sweet potatoes. Not just any snack, but his absolute favorite. He was a Jindo dog, for heaven’s sake!

Use human poison instead! You bastards!

Add to that the chickens, horses, and cows dying en masse… the financial loss in a single blow was indescribable. Warhorses, in particular, were difficult to replace in this era.

When this is over, I am definitely making Hwanggu learn Poison Arts.

He didn’t know why, but the Wudang Fist Emperor was strangely excellent at teaching spirit beasts.

I need to check their pulses again later. I’m worried about strain on their liver or kidneys.

Hwanggu had refused a sweet potato.

That Hwanggu!

Thwack-thwack-thwack-thwack!

Jin Cheon-hee unleashed the Wind God’s Bow frantically, venting the anxiety of a pet owner. While the blue light rained down, the Lightning Dragon Arrows of the White Qilin Unit began to taper off. It was natural; one cannot shoot arrows forever. But it was fine.

Sama Hyeon’s subordinates were waiting.

Just then.

BOOOM!

A massive explosion erupted with a deafening roar.

“The formation is broken!”

“Retreat one step—!”

With Man Seon’s Qi-infused shout, the White Qilin Unit began to change formation.

[Hyung, I’ll step in now.]

Sama Hyeon’s telepathic message rang out.

[Go ahead.]

As soon as Jin Cheon-hee gave permission, Sama Hyeon and his subordinates began to spread across the ground like mist. Sama Hyeon wore black clothes, unlike his usual attire. Did he think there was no need to stand out with his flashy robes?

“Find Sama Hyeon, the Leader of the Silver Blood Hall!”

At that moment, a large hand covered an enemy’s vision.

Crunch—

In an instant, the skull was crushed, and the face skin was torn off simultaneously.

“I wanted to take a couple of assassin faces anyway. This works out perfectly.”

Sama Hyeon licked his lips with the tip of his tongue.

Simultaneously, Sama Hyeon’s face changed. The astonishing part was that he had snatched the mask used by the assassins and put it on himself. And the eyes visible beneath the mask were undoubtedly those of a nameless woman.

Despite the obstacle of the mask, he changed his face perfectly as if it were nothing.

When Sama Hyeon, with his altered face, blended into the group of black-clad assassins, it became impossible to tell who the Silver Blood Department Head was. Even in this dark night, by stealing the mask and black clothes of the enemy and wearing them, distinguishing friend from foe became a nightmare.

Instead, suspicion began to breed among them that the assassin guarding their back might actually be the notorious Thousand-Faced Fox.