PFFT!

As the milky spiritual light completely devoured the bat, a body, already beginning to stiffen, reappeared and fell from the sky, spraying a red mist of blood that drifted slowly down.

Witnessing this, Chen Fei opened his mouth slightly to expel a turbid breath. His gaze shifted, settling on a hazy mountain peak far beyond the Great Rift Valley. His true target was there… and quite a few people were likely waiting for him.

The moment Chen Fei's figure flashed and he swiftly departed the Great Rift Valley, an old man leaning on a cane slowly emerged from behind a giant boulder covered in thick, dark green moss. His eyes were filled with profound shock.

Clearly, this old man was none other than Yama, Chen Fei's Uncle Master Yan, who had arrived here long ago.

This kid… He knew perfectly well that Chen Fei had only just reached the Innate Early Stage a short time ago. Yet now, he had so effortlessly slain a Duke-level Old Bat. How could he not be shocked and utterly astonished? No wonder he had the confidence to come here alone… but this rate of progress is just terrifying, isn't it? Even an old man like Yama couldn't help but be flabbergasted, finding it hard to believe.

Such a horrifying pace of progress was no joke. He could honestly say he had never seen anything like it in his life, unless… it was one of those people from *that* place.

But could Chen Fei be compared to them? Those people had grown up since childhood in what the people of the Martial Forest considered a Holy Land! How could they be the same?

However, he wasn't the only one shaken at that moment. Following the demise of the pale-skinned, curly-haired vampire elder, another old man was jolted into action. Far from the Great Rift Valley, deep within a hazy mountain peak, at the end of a dim, buried passage, an old man clothed in a robe embroidered with strange Magic Runes suddenly snapped his aged eyes open, his face a mask of shock and disbelief.

"How has his magic aura disappeared? Damn it, what happened?"

Muttering incredulously, the robed old man shot to his feet, tossing a book aside. "Damn it, it's really gone? Could it be…" He had personally placed the Magic Runes on the Old Bat to monitor his vital signs.

But now, those runes had vanished. The implication was self-evident.

"Damn it!" At this thought, the robed old man's figure flashed, and he hastily departed his study.

Meanwhile, at the end of that same passage stood a pitch-black palace. People were moving about hastily inside, as some had just discovered they could no longer contact their backup assassin training base in the Great Rift Valley of the Alps.

And according to the images transmitted from satellite cameras, it seemed… it seemed someone was on a killing spree there.

"Magician Sir!" Just then, the man in the magic robe entered the palace with a frown. All the hurried people inside immediately halted, their expressions turning reverent as they placed their hands on their chests in greeting.

The old man in the magic robe was one of the Crimson Fang's four aces: Amotig, an S-Level Wind Element Superpower known by the codename Magician Sir. Of course, none of them dared to use his real name, so they typically addressed him by his codename.

"What is going on? What happened?" Seeing the disarray in the palace, Amotig's brow furrowed even deeper, and he couldn't help but ask coldly.

"Magician Sir, the satellite captured images from the training base in the Great Rift Valley. It seems… it seems someone is causing trouble there…" Hearing Amotig's question, a burly, fleshy-faced old man stepped forward, his voice strained.

"Someone is causing trouble? Where are the photos? Let me see them." Hearing this, Amotig's heart skipped a beat. His expression growing darker, he held out his hand for the satellite images.

"Yes, sir!" Someone immediately stepped forward and handed him a photo.

SNAP!

Amotig, clad in his magic robe, merely glanced at the photo before his face turned grim with rage. He angrily flung the picture away as a chilling, stormy aura began to emanate from him. The image was a shot of Chen Fei in the middle of a kill.

"Respected Magician Sir, someone dares to cause trouble at our Crimson Fang headquarters! This is an outright insult, a complete provocation!"

"That's right! Respected Magician Sir, we cannot swallow this provocation! We must wash it away with that person's blood!"

A series of fierce, cold declarations echoed through the palace. They were the kings of Italy's assassin world, the King Cobras of the Dark World. The Crimson Fang had always been the ones doing the killing; when had it ever been someone else's turn to cause trouble at their main base? This was an utter disgrace, a humiliation that could not be tolerated.

"Enough! Shut up!" At that moment, Amotig suddenly shouted sternly. His thunderous voice startled everyone in the palace, and they looked at him with fear, not understanding his sudden rage.

"Pilong…" In the next instant, Amotig's deep, aged eyes swept fiercely over the crowd again, finally fixing on a shadowy mass in the farthest corner. Staring at its strange eyes, he slowly asked, "Where is your grandfather? Where is he now?"

"Your Excellency, Magician Sir, my grandfather has recently been researching ancient dark magic within our clan. So… he is not at the base right now," the shadowy mass replied respectfully with a pair of cold, lifeless eyes.

"Damn it," Amotig cursed under his breath, which only deepened the confusion of the others present.

"Cough, cough… Am-Amotig, what has happened? Cough, cough, cough…" Just then, an ancient voice, coughing as if it were on the verge of expiring, emanated from the deepest recesses of the dark palace. Everyone present tensed, their expressions instantly becoming reverent.

"Sir!"

Every person in the room solemnly placed a hand over their chest, lowered their gaze, and turned their bodies respectfully toward the depths of the palace. Even Amotig's grim expression softened slightly as he gave a small bow in that direction.

Within the Crimson Fang, only one person commanded such a grand reception: the legend of the Assassin World, the first King of Assassins of the Crimson Fang—Jack the Blade.

Had the commotion in the palace disturbed even him? Many grew uneasy, a mix of awe and terror filling them. In their eyes, that man was no different from Death itself.

"Your Excellency Jack the Blade, it seems there has been an incident," Amotig said, his voice ominously low. "You should remember that I left a Magic Mark on several of you. Just now, the Magic Mark on that Old Bat disappeared. There also appears to be a disturbance at the Great Rift Valley… caused by an Easterner."

"A Magic Mark?"

Hearing this, most of the crowd looked bewildered, not understanding the significance of a disappearing Magic Mark.

However, the faces of a few changed drastically. As Ability Users and Magicians themselves, they knew exactly what it meant when a Magic Mark on someone suddenly vanished.

It meant the person was very likely dead. And the Old Bat that Magician Sir had just mentioned…

HISS!

Could it be…!

"Is he dead?"

In the next moment, the ancient, coughing voice from the depths of the palace asked the question on everyone's mind without any reservation. His voice quavered as he spoke again. "…Cough, cough… In that case, you… you take some men and go check it out first. I'm still in the Blood Pool and can't come out right away… but I will be there personally later. Cough, cough, cough, cough…"

Hearing this, everyone present couldn't help but shudder. The strongest King of Assassins of the Crimson Fang, their most terrifying Grim Reaper… was he, the old master, finally making a move?

"Very well, Your Excellency Jack the Blade." Amotig seemed to gain confidence, his expression turning sinister as he smiled cruelly. "Perhaps you won't need to take action personally. I will make him realize the despair and suffocation of angering Death. We, the Crimson Fang, are not so easily provoked."

"Enzoth, bring the men and follow me," he commanded.

"Yes!"

The burly old brute who had hurried to his side bellowed in response. He then immediately organized most of the Crimson Fang members in the palace, following Amotig out through the buried underground passage.

At the same time, Chen Fei was gradually approaching the mountain peak that had once been a hazy shape in the distance. Suddenly, he stopped. He looked up, his eyes narrowing as a cold, mocking smile touched his lips.

He could faintly sense that, from the peak above, a great number of people were heading down in his direction.

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