Hadjar nodded.
“Let’s wait,” he suggested.
“There’s no point in running, after all.”
They set up camp for the night, spread a blanket out over the golden sand, then placed several bottles of good wine and eight bowls on it. Hadjar asked Azrea not to interfere. With a grunt of displeasure, the tigress turned into a small cub and disappeared into the withered grass, accompanied by Einen’s horse. Hadjar filled his pipe with scented tobacco and savored it. Einen uncorked a bottle of wine with his carving dagger, poured the fragrant, scarlet liquid into a bowl, and sipped it with great enjoyment.
Their guests arrived soon after. Seven riders emerged from under a hill and rode up to the duo. Each of them was a Spirit Knight at the peak stage — the highest level of cultivation allowed under the current conditions. They were all men. The youngest was in his twenties, while the others could’ve been anywhere from thirty to three hundred. They rode on huge, black cats. The felines were at the King Stage and clearly very fast and dangerous.
“Have you been waiting for us long?” One of the riders asked as he dismounted.
Tall and thin, the man, like his companions, was wearing a gray cloak held in place by his school’s medallion. Hadjar didn’t recognize the emblem and the neuronet didn’t find it in his memory, either. This meant that the school either didn’t exist, or, more likely, that it had been established just over a week ago.
“You’re late.” Hadjar puffed out a ring of smoke. “Join us and help yourself to some wine.”
Einen lifted his bowl in greeting. The other riders only dismounted once their leader sat down and took a bowl. Hadjar, not wanting their guests to think that he was a bad host, poured the man some wine. He took a sip, smacked his lips, and nodded respectfully.
“Wine this delicious is a rare treat.”
“Please, help yourselves,” Hadjar said politely. “We don’t drink much, so it’s all for you.”
Only then did the remaining six Spirit Knights sit down on the blanket. Their leader filled their bowls for them.
“My name is Gurth. I’m from the Dead Moon clan.”
The Dead Moon clan… Its very existence went against the official policy of the Imperial family, so it was forbidden to so much as mention its name out loud, but the clan’s members were still untouchable. The Dead Moon clan was… useful to the nobility that didn’t like to sully their own hands with blood. Its members were, after all, highly skilled assassins.
Some claimed that they lived in the swamps of Pereis, or in the mountains of the Hungry Mist — inhospitable lands where even animals and birds didn’t dwell. The assassins did everything they could to keep the location of their base a secret. Most importantly, their services were so expensive that only a few, even amongst the nobility, could afford them.
“Is the contract only for my head?” Hadjar asked.
Gurth retrieved two sealed scrolls from his cloak.
“Hadjar Darkhan,” he read from the first. “Einen of the Islands,” he read from the second.
The islander remained calm.
“Who’s your employer?”
“If you know who we are, you should also know that such information isn’t something we’d ever disclose.”
Hadjar nodded respectfully. The Dead Moon clan was famous not only for their prowess, but also for their code of honor, which they didn’t violate under any circumstances. Mothers, children, practitioners, mortals, and those who’d never taken up a weapon in their life, they left alone. What’s more, it was said that those who came to the Dead Moon clan with such a request were later found impaled on a stake in the central square. The assassins could be rented, but not bought. They never revealed the names of their employers, and if they were caught, they committed suicide. Their code of honor had earned them a great deal of respect throughout the Empire.
“And here you are.”
“And here we are, Darkhan,” Gurth repeated with a nod. “I always judge people based not on what the client says, but on what my eyes see.”
“And what do your eyes see right now?”
“A person whom I don’t want to fight.”
Hadjar didn’t insult Gurth by telling him not to fight him if that’s how he felt. Instead, he saluted and bowed slightly to show his respect.
“Give me the Core, Darkhan.”
“And will you let us leave if I do?”
Gurth sipped the wine.
“I can’t do that. But I swear I’ll spare your lives. You won’t be able to follow the path of cultivation any longer, but you’ll get to keep living. The world, Darkhan, whatever you may think about it, needs more than just warriors. There’s nothing wrong with being a mortal farmer.”
Hadjar looked into the assassin’s gray eyes.
“Would you agree to your own deal?”
Gurth sighed a little sadly.
“Tell me the name of the person to whom I can convey your last words, Darkhan.”
“Sorry, Gurth, but I’m not going to my forefathers today.”
For the next five minutes, the members of the Dead Moon clan drank their wine in silence while Hadjar smoked his pipe. When the bottles were empty and the ash buried in the sand, Gurth got to his feet.
“Let us begin,” he said and drew two curved daggers. His men did the same.
Hadjar and Einen got to their feet as well. However, they didn’t have time to draw their weapons. To the northwest, where the Falcon’s Head was, a broad column of blue energy suddenly surged into the sky. It broke through the clouds and dispersed.
“The key has been found!” Thundered over the Wastelands.
Hadjar cursed.
“Let’s finish this quickly!” He shouted and summoned the Black Blade.
Chapter 693
G urth was the first to attack. If Anise’s movements were light and smooth like a cat’s, his were like the deceptive slither of a snake or a reptile that seemed slow at first, but was faster than a crossbow bolt when attacking.
Shrouded in a green glow, his daggers sliced through the air an inch from the two most vulnerable spots on Hadjar’s body. He immediately closed the distance between them and stomped on the ground. The impact made the bowls jump up. Hadjar struck the nearest one with the back of his hand. Shards of clay hit Gurth in the face, blinding him temporarily and forcing him to take a few steps back.
“Four. Three,” he ordered.
Four assassins, including Gurth, stood in front of Hadjar. Their faces were hidden beneath a red, moon-shaped mask with thin slits acting as eyeholes. Einen, who was already channeling his Spirit, found himself facing three foes.
“Look, my bald friend, they think I’m cooler than you.”
“I’ll make them change their minds soon enough.”
Einen leapt into the air. His ape swung its spear-staff over its head, preparing the ‘Boulder Storm’ Technique. A wide coastline of rocks and raging waves crashed down on the heads of the assassins.
“You don’t have time to worry about your friend!”
Gurth crossed his daggers in front of him. The green glow around them flared up, covering them along the edge of the blade and making them grow larger. Gradually, they reached a length of over five feet.
“First Dance: Grasshopper’s Jump!”
Uncrossing the daggers, he sent the green glow around them flying. It formed an X, but was devoid of any mysteries. Like a grasshopper, it jumped up and down as it moved. The grass it touched lived out its life cycle in a fraction of a second: it grew to about knee height, then began to yellow, then brown, and finally, it withered, letting the wind scatter its remains. The ground was instantly covered in cracks, deeper and wider than those that the dry wind and lack of rain had left behind.
Hadjar didn’t feel any crushing power coming from the Technique. He’d never seen anything like it before.
“Calm Wind!”
A column of descending wind slammed into the ground, caving it in. The second stance of the ‘Light
Breeze’ Technique slowed down the glow’s progress. Gurth’s legs buckled slightly under the pressure.
Out of the corner of his eye, Hadjar spotted several shadows. The other assassins had surrounded him without him even noticing. If it hadn’t been for his Technique, he would’ve probably died before he’d even gotten the chance to protect himself from the ‘Grasshopper’s Jump’.
The ‘Calm Wind’, strong as it was, had its downsides, too. That usually didn’t bother him, but he didn’t want to take the risk of relying on its second stance right now. This Technique allowed him to use other stances as well, but it took more energy from his Core the more opponents there were fighting against its pressure. As he was now facing four Spirit Knights, every second he used the ‘Calm Wind’ took away half the energy he needed to use the ‘Black Wind’.
He kicked the nearest assassin’s wrist and pushed himself away. Spinning like a top, he flew over the assassin’s head. Just before it was about to hit its ally, the green glow zigzagged again and, swerving around the assassin, came dangerously close to Hadjar. Not daring to block it directly, he put all his strength and power into his next attack.
“Black Wind!”
A roaring dragon woven together from the Sword’s mysteries and his energy burst out of the obsidian blade. Leaving a deep furrow behind in the ground, it slammed into Gurth’s Technique with its fangs and claws. Hadjar’s best and most powerful Technique was able to stall the green glow for a couple of seconds. The dragon struggled as it gradually grew weaker. It decayed, cracked, and began to retreat back into the World River.
At the same time, another pair of daggers shrouded in emerald light was already being thrust toward Hadjar’s back. Obeying his mental command, his black cloak wrapped itself around the assassin’s wrists and sent him flying. The man landed on the fourth member of the Dead Moon clan. Together, they tumbled down the slope. After charging his Technique with power, Hadjar instantly severed his connection to it.
The black dragon flashed with energy and then disappeared in a sudden explosion. It pushed Gurth and the other remaining assassin aside and allowed Hadjar a moment to catch his breath. The Dead Moon clan was incredible. Their fighting style looked very different from what other cultivators used. They didn’t use overbearing Techniques, didn’t wear heavy, bulky armor, and had only Heaven level daggers. Despite all of that, their every attack and movement was steeped in death.
“You should be proud of yourself, Hadjar Darkhan.” Gurth rose to his feet. Reaching into his gray robes, he pulled out a mask similar to the one his subordinates were wearing and put it on. “You’re the fifth Heaven Soldier to ever make me put on my mask and use the second dance.”
The four assassins, once again standing in a row together, cried out in unison:
“Second Dance: The Moon Bird’s Feather!”
They disappeared. Hadjar didn’t feel their auras in the energy flows at all. They’d completely hidden their presence.
Acting on instinct, he raised his left arm in a defensive gesture. He had no idea if it was Gurth or someone else, but a dagger coated in green energy sliced through his Call’s armor. It got through so easily, too, as if his Call wasn’t already as strong as a Heaven level artifact.
Still guided by instincts developed over the course of thousands of battles, Hadjar slashed through the spot where he presumed the assassin would be. Scarlet drops fell to the withered grass, and Hadjar caught sight of a blur circling around him. The four assassins were running around him so fast that it was impossible to see them. Their speed seemed to be backed up by some stealth Techniques as well.
Hadjar was now certain that their prowess hadn’t been exaggerated by rumors — the Dead Moon clan was truly the deadliest clan of assassins this world had ever seen.
Chapter 694
“Y our armor...” Gurth stepped out of thin air as if going through an open door. Hadjar recognized his voice. “I’ve never seen armor that can withstand the ‘Moon Bird’s Feather’ before.”
Hadjar looked at the spot where the assassin’s attack had hit him. The bracer, made from black fog and framed with a silver pattern, was gradually restoring itself. He finally realized the biggest flaw of their Techniques: they constantly used their power to maintain the green glow.
“Give it to us along with the Core and we’ll spare both your life and cultivation.”
“I’m sorry, but it’s not actually armor. It’s my Call.”
“Your Call? I’ve fought a hundred warriors with Calls, but I’ve never seen one like yours before.”
Hadjar shot a quick glance at Einen and his iridescent ape. The two of them were fighting against three assassins. He knew what Gurth was talking about. His Call not only gave him power, but also worked in tandem with the ‘Path Through the Clouds’ Technique. He still didn’t know how that was possible.
“Kill them!” Gurth commanded.
Hadjar got ready to defend himself, but then realized that the command hadn’t been given to the assassins. Seven dots flashed in the air. Like lightning, sharp claws and fangs flew toward him but were immediately deflected by a roaring white flame — Azrea had thrown herself at the seven cats. They moved so quickly that Hadjar could barely see their blurred outlines.
Azrea, an Ancient Beast, was singlehandedly fighting against seven cats at the King Stage, and she didn’t seem to be losing at all.
“You’re making me look bad.” Hadjar smiled.
Turning toward the hissing and roaring, Gurth made a strange sound.
“You’re a true enigma, Hadjar Darkhan,” he said and disappeared again.
Hadjar prepared to parry. A dagger shrouded in green was thrust at his feet. Along with it, the silhouette of the assassin appeared out of thin air. His crimson mask shone in the light of the rising sun. Hadjar, twisting his blade, parried the blow and was about to use a Technique when he had to dodge another blade aimed at the back of his head. Leaning forward and moving away from the thrust, he lost sight of the first assassin. As soon as he dodged the second blade and tried to cut the attacker with his sword, another dagger almost ripped his stomach open.
“Fucking bullshit,” Hadjar growled.
Dodging and parrying, he snarled and hissed at his foes like a cornered beast. He couldn’t even buy himself enough time to use the ‘Light Breeze’ sword Technique, one of his quickest Techniques, let alone the ‘Black Wind’, which required a few moments of preparation.
No matter how fast he was, he was still outnumbered. His four opponents might not have been incredibly strong, but just one of their attacks would be enough to send him to his forefathers if it landed. No matter how agile he was, he still had to block eight blades at once. Even if he were ambidextrous, a trait only a couple of the people he’d met in his life had had, he still wouldn’t have had enough time to defend himself from all of them.
Hadjar skidded across the ground and dodged a dagger aimed at his abdomen. He lost his balance and fell, but successfully got out of the way of a blade aimed at his neck. It whizzed past his face like the emerald sting of some giant scorpion and disappeared into the void. He rolled away from another thrust aimed at his throat. Hitting the dry ground with his palm, he soared into the air. Four green blades crossed beneath him, almost cutting through his chest and back.
Hadjar deflected the wrist of one of the assassins and finally saw a chance to use a Technique. His fastest one was the ‘Spring Wind’, but it wasn’t an attack on its own. It only enhanced the Sword’s mysteries by adding energy to them.
In the span of a heartbeat, he managed to launch three strikes. They appeared in the form of ghostly dragons, each of which was actually a separate attack generated by his mastery of the Weapon’s Heart.
“Defend!” Someone shouted.
The four assassins, all of them emerging from stealth simultaneously, stood side by side. The raised their daggers in unison and held them in front of themselves. The glow leapt off their blades, formed a gigantic copy of their weapons, an
d easily sliced through the three black dragons.
“What the fuck is this!” Hadjar cursed under his breath.
He could feel his energy slipping away. It took a lot of power to maintain the ‘Calm Wind’, which the assassins were gradually overcoming. Breathing heavily, he sensed that he’d be able to keep fighting for maybe another thirty seconds, perhaps forty if he got lucky, but no more.
The assassins had already started their Second Dance once more. Disappearing into thin air yet again, they circled Hadjar. A dagger flashed past his waist. Cutting through the air and leaving a trail of murderous green light behind, it almost grazed his stomach.
However, at that moment, something impossible happened.
[Analysis of the enemies’ attack patterns has been completed.
A list of countermeasures has been created.
Would you like to transfer control to the system? To do so, you will need to allocate 90% of the neural network’s power to the task, which will delay the previously specified task.]
Like a drowning man recklessly grasping at any opportunity to save himself, he instinctively responded with a hurried “Yes!”
[Control over the host’s body has been established.
Projected level of damage to host: 63%
Projected level of damage to host without the autopilot: 100%
Beginning the process of elimination...
Quantity: 4 targets]
Chapter 695
“W hat’s-”
Gurth had never seen anyone at such a low level move like this before. He was sure that his dagger’s copy had struck Hadjar’s stomach. It was a wonder that the peak-stage Heaven Soldier had managed to survive against them for even this long. The man had even made him use the Second Dance, the secret Technique of his clan that was available only to its cultivators.
Many Spirit Knights and weak Lords had been unable to hold out against it for even ten seconds, but Hadjar had been fighting them for almost half a minute. Normal cultivators, forced to constantly fight against a variety of opponents, always relied on the power of their Techniques. The bigger and more destructive they were, the better they felt about them. Thinking themselves above the subtle art of killing from the shadows, they failed to realize that their Techniques were also their biggest weaknesses: without enough time to prepare them, they were more vulnerable than even a simple practitioner who didn’t rely on them.
Dragon Heart: Land of The Enemy. LitRPG Wuxia Series: Book 8 Page 24
