Following Liu Yuan's command, the elite assassins of the Blood Moon Tower surged into the Northern Prince's Palace like a tide of shadows.
But just as they arrived at the training ground, a sharp whistling tore through the air—an endless rain of arrows descended from above, blackening the already black skies.
"Deputy master! We've walked straight into a trap!" someone shouted in panic.
Yet Liu Yuan remained unshaken. His eyes narrowed as he looked toward the dark sky, then scoffed coldly. "A mere last-ditch struggle."
To a ninth-grade martial artist, a volley of arrows posed little threat. And Liu Yuan was no ordinary ninth-grade—he was already half a step into the Grandmaster realm, capable of releasing internal energy.
The arrows, despite their number, were little more than a nuisance to him. Even if one managed to strike him, it would barely pierce his robes.
This so-called ambush? Nothing more than a petty trick.
"Form up! Gather around me!" Liu Yuan barked.
The Blood Moon Tower's members instantly regrouped, pressing their backs together and raising their swords in a defensive formation. Blades danced, slicing through the downpour of arrows in a coordinated rhythm.
Watching from a distance, Lu Chen was momentarily dumbfounded.
Is this… the martial world?
The last time he'd entered Beijun to accept his fief, he'd remained inside the carriage and hadn't witnessed the might of martial artists firsthand. But today, this battle unfolded before his very eyes—men using only their swords to fend off a storm of arrows without even the aid of shields.
It was a sight that left a deep impression.
Although some among the Blood Moon Tower failed to defend themselves and fell, most endured and survived the assault.
Lu Chen's heart tightened. This scene reminded him just how invaluable the fragmentation grenades from the system truly were.
If he hadn't possessed those modern killing tools, then with only the guards inside his palace, how could they possibly hold out against an elite force like the Blood Moon Tower?
Thank god for that beginner's gift package, he thought silently. Thank god for grenades.
As the final arrow was loosed and silence returned to the courtyard, Liu Yuan raised his head and looked toward the rooftops in the distance. A scornful smile curved on his lips.
"With just a few arrows, you hoped to kill us? King of the North, are you really that naive?"
Lu Chen didn't bother replying. He simply turned to Li Feng and the others and issued a crisp command: "No need to waste words. Throw the grenades. Pull the safety pin and count to three."
Li Feng and the others nodded quickly and retrieved the grenades hidden in their arms.
As they gripped the cold metal shells, some of the soldiers found their hands trembling uncontrollably. They had all witnessed firsthand the destructive power of these terrifying weapons. One mistake, one misthrow… and it might be them lying dead.
Sensing their hesitation, Lu Chen said with a relaxed smile, "Don't worry. We're not blowing you up."
Encouraged, Li Feng took a deep breath, pulled the pin, held the grenade for less than two seconds, then hurled it forcefully toward the center of the Blood Moon Tower's formation.
Although Li Feng was a seventh-rank martial artist, even he felt his nerves fray when dealing with such mysterious, deadly weapons.
Lu Chen had intended for the grenade to detonate mid-air, but no one could predict if the enemy would try to kick or throw it back. If they did, the consequences would be catastrophic.
Luckily, when the grenade landed among them, Liu Yuan and his men didn't recognize the threat. They merely assumed it was a rock hurled from afar and casually sidestepped.
Liu Yuan even laughed out loud. "Hahaha! Has the Northern Palace fallen so low that it can only throw stones now?"
But the laughter hadn't even finished echoing before a deafening explosion tore through the night.
BOOM—
White smoke burst skyward as shockwaves rippled out. Blood spurted, limbs flew, and the air was filled with screaming.
The Blood Moon Tower members froze in place, stunned, their minds unable to comprehend what had just happened.
Then—
BOOM—
A second explosion followed, sending panic through the remaining assassins. Like startled beasts, they scattered in all directions.
"My god—it's thunder!"
"Run! Someone in the Northern Palace can summon thunder!"
"Immortal! There's an immortal in the Northern Palace!!"
…
Chaos erupted.
Liu Yuan gritted his teeth and raised his sword high, roaring, "Stand your ground! Anyone who flees—I'll kill them myself!"
But before he could finish, another palace soldier hurled a grenade in his direction.
Though Liu Yuan didn't understand what this object was, he instinctively sensed danger. His eyes widened in alarm as he leapt backward, covering a dozen paces in the blink of an eye.
Too late.
The grenade exploded violently. A red-hot shard flew past his leg, slicing deep into his thigh and drawing a stream of blood.
Still, he was one of the lucky ones.
The ninth-grade martial artist closest to Liu Yuan wasn't so fortunate. The explosion tore into his body, riddling him with gaping wounds. He fell without a word.
Liu Yuan's body trembled.
He was afraid.
What kind of monstrous weapon was this?
It looked like a rock, yet it exploded with earth-shattering force. A single blast had instantly killed a ninth-grade martial artist—something even he, at half-step Grandmaster, would struggle to do in one strike.
His understanding of warfare, of martial power, of everything—was crumbling like a sand castle now.
How could such a weapon exist in this world? If any dynasty possessed this kind of killer, they would have conquered the realm long ago!
---
Meanwhile, in the palace's backyard—
Wang Qingci and the people from Baihua Tower had just arrived when they, too, heard the series of thunderous explosions echoing from the front courtyard.
Startled, Wang Qingci paused.
Beside her, Chen Yu turned and whispered, "Saintess, it must be thunder. A storm's coming—perfect cover for our operation."
Chen Yu assumed it was natural thunder. But Wang Qingci's brows furrowed.
The skies were indeed overcast, but that sound… it didn't come from the sky. It wasn't the distant rumble of thunder. It was sharp, resonant—something man-made.
Something was happening in the front yard.
The King of the North… clearly had secrets.
Just then, one of the Misty Rain Pavilion assassins tensed and whispered urgently, "Saintess, someone's coming!"
Everyone from Baihua Tower instantly fell into formation, ready to intercept.
Their mission at the rear gate was simple—cut off the Northern King's escape route. If someone was approaching now, it meant someone was trying to flee.
But what they saw next stunned them.
A woman appeared—elegant, poised, wrapped in a green cloud-colored dress, her black hair arranged in a soft cloud bun. She stepped gracefully into the backyard.
[T|N: Google the hairstyle!]
The assassins of Misty Rain Pavilion instantly recognized her.
Chu Yuqin.
A ninth-rank martial artist. A master of the Northern Palace.
But… why was she here?
Why was she in the backyard instead of guarding the King of the North?
A strange feeling crept over the group.
Chu Yuqin's eyes turned icy. "Miss Wang, where are you headed at such a late hour?"
Wang Qingci offered a calm smile. "Why, I've come to serve the Prince, of course."
Chu Yuqin snorted. "Do you need this many people to serve Chen'er?"
Suddenly, Chen Yu stepped forward, lowering her voice. "Saintess, something feels off. You should check the front yard—I'll stay and hold them back…"
But she never finished her sentence.
A sharp chill pierced her spine. Her breath caught as searing pain surged through her chest.
She lowered her gaze, eyes wide with disbelief.
A blade.
Protruding from her chest.
She turned slowly—behind her stood Wang Qingci, holding the sword that had pierced her.
"Sainte… you…" Chen Yu croaked.
But before she could say more, Wang Qingci wrenched the sword free. Chen Yu collapsed in a heap, blood pooling beneath her, her eyes still wide.
The assassins were stunned.
The Saintess… had killed one of her own.
Their minds struggled to comprehend it.
Wang Qingci turned to Chu Yuqin and said calmly, "Madam Chu, please assist me. Don't let a single one escape."
Her tone was casual, almost polite. But it sent a chill down every spine present.
Now, even the densest among them understood—Wang Qingci had betrayed the Eighth Prince.
"No! The Saintess has defected! Run! Spread the word!" one of the assassins cried.
The others scattered in panic, fleeing in all directions.
Chu Yuqin didn't say a word. She simply stepped forward, her aura surging.
Moments later, the ground at the palace's rear gate was littered with corpses.
Not a single one escaped.
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