Twenty-four hours after the Blue-eyed Wolf died, the news exploded.
The mont the Ministry of National Defense and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs announced internationally that the Blue-eyed Wolf had perished in Huaxia, the entire world was shaken.
The Blue-eyed Wolf was dead? Dead in Huaxia?
As soon as this news broke, countless countries imdiately inquired with Huaxia to confirm its authenticity. However, when Huaxia released images of the Blue-eyed Wolf’s iconic blue eyes, which had been shrouded in mystery, the inquiring nations breathed a collective sigh of relief.
At last, this nace had been dealt with. It was a cause for celebration.
But while people rejoiced, Huaxia was shrouded in yet another layer of mystery. What did it an that the Blue-eyed Wolf, who had stymied nurous governnt agencies, was killed the mont he set foot in Huaxia? It ant that the mysterious East possessed unimaginably imnse power. As a result, many organizations began to grow deeply wary of Huaxia’s mysterious forces.
「Europe. Assassin Union.」
In a grand hall marked with a protruding skull emblem, the round conference table was filled with union mbers of various ethnicities. At the head of the table, a middle-aged man with a hooked nose stood up. "You’ve all heard the news about the Blue-eyed Wolf’s death, I presu."
The mbers on both sides exchanged glances before nodding in unison.
"Since everyone has heard, I won’t waste any more words," the leader declared solemnly, tapping the conference table with his fist. "Effective imdiately, remove all Huaxia-related missions from the bounty list! To minimize unnecessary casualties and trouble for the union, no assassin bearing our insignia is to accept any mission that requires entering Huaxia!"
"Huaxia has never been a welcoming place for us, so rest assured," a man beside the leader said, shaking his head faintly. "Even if you hadn’t said anything, with the cautionary tale of the Blue-eyed Wolf, I doubt any assassin would be foolish enough to choose money over their life."
"What do you all think?" the middle-aged man asked, nodding as he scanned the room.
In the next mont, all he received were nods of agreent.
Qin Fan could never have imagined that his one kill would create such an effect. This was exactly the outco the Huaxian authorities had hoped to see. They had announced the Blue-eyed Wolf’s death in Huaxia for two reasons: first, to deter various global powers, and second, to drop a bombshell on the Killer World. It now seed their plan had worked perfectly.
While assassin organizations across the globe reeled from the shock of the Blue-eyed Wolf’s death in Huaxia, on Russian soil across the Mo River from Huaxia, a different scene was unfolding.
A middle-aged man with Huaxian features sat by the river, holding a fishing rod. He had cast a long line into the water, but at its end was a straight hook with no bait. He was clearly emulating the ancient legend of Jiang Taigong, fishing with a straight hook—waiting for only the willing to bite.
Though he was supposedly fishing, the middle-aged man gazed across the river at the lands of Huaxia, his expression trancelike.
"Twenty-five years. In twenty-eight days, it will be exactly twenty-five years," he murmured softly, a complex look clouding his eyes.
RUSTLE... RUSTLE...
Just as he finished murmuring, the sound of rustling footsteps approached from behind.
"Master!" The footsteps drew closer, stopping two ters behind the middle-aged man as the person spoke.
"The Blue-eyed Wolf is dead, isn’t he?" the middle-aged man asked blandly, his gaze still fixed on the opposite bank.
"Yes!" the newcor affird emphatically.
The middle-aged man shook his head. "It matters not. That was to be expected. Is there any news of Tianchun?"
"Master, we’ve practically turned all of Huaxia upside down, but there’s still no trace of the Young Master," the person replied, bowing his head.
"If this was soone even the Blue-eyed Wolf couldn’t handle... I’m afraid Tianchun is gone." The middle-aged man sneered self-deprecatingly, and his previously unflappable expression suddenly twisted. His graying eyebrows trembled, and his face contorted with overwhelming rage.
Behind him, the masked man shivered uncontrollably under this imposing aura, trembling as if he had been plunged into a cavern of ice.
"My daughter is mad, my son-in-law is dead, my son is gone, and I cannot return to my own ho! Twenty-five years have passed, and all I can do is watch from across this river! Damned Heavens, you’ve pushed too far!" As he finished his rant, the middle-aged man howled at the sky. He violently swung the fishing rod, and the straight hook shot out of the water, flinging over a dozen river fish—impaled through their jaws—into the air before they crashed back down, sending up a spray of water.
"Damn it! Damn them all! They all deserve to die!"
The composure he had cultivated for decades shattered in an instant. Gone was the refined air of his detached fishing. Under the surge of fury, the middle-aged man leaped forward, and a bizarre scene unfolded. He landed and stood directly on the surface of the river. Beneath his feet, a chilling, desolate aura spread out, and the water began to crackle. In less than ten seconds, a hundred-ter radius around him froze solid.
"To hell with the damned thirty-year agreent! To hell with it all!"
With his arms stretched out to his sides, the middle-aged man raised them high and roared at the sky.
The next second, the scene changed dramatically. At his roar, countless ice spikes shot up from the frozen hundred-ter radius, creating an impressive display reminiscent of the ’All Swords Return to the Root’ technique. The only difference was that these were Ice Swords.
"Divine Skills! These are Divine Skills! A Grandmaster’s Divine Skills!" Watching the scene before him, the masked man was first dumbstruck, then began shouting with crazed joy. After several shouts, he dropped to one knee before the middle-aged man, yelling fervently at the man he regarded as a god on the river, "May you live for a thousand ages and unify the Martial World! Long live the Master! Long, long live the Master!"
The middle-aged man’s expression remained unchanged in the face of the shouts, but he had already returned to the shore in a flash. With an imposing aura, he spoke in a low voice to the masked man, "Arrange for our return to Huaxia on June twenty-eighth."
"Yes, Master!" the masked man replied, overco with ecstatic excitent.
Without another word, his back to the river that separated the two countries, the middle-aged man flicked his hand. Instantly, the hundred-ter-wide sheet of ice reverted to flowing water. Under the sumr sun, the river shimred as if nothing had ever happened.
The thirty-year pact born from his defeat, which forbade him from entering Huaxia, was broken today by Lan Xiaosheng.
Twenty-five years ago, on June twenty-eighth, he had fled Huaxia like a beaten dog.
Twenty-five years later, on that sa date, he would return—breaking his promise and bringing his vengeance with him.
The shimring waves cast a harsh glare on the middle-aged man’s departing figure, which seed both lonely and weathered by ti.
He had the Cultivation of a Grandmaster and had mastered Divine Skills, but so what? His daughter driven mad, his son-in-law dead, his son gone... for a man who had fallen from the pinnacle of life to its lowest abyss, what kind of blow was this?
Under the sun, his mind was a chaotic ss.
Under the sun, his hatred towered to the heavens.
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