Chapter 47: Half Upon Meeting

As the mission concluded, everyone parted ways, and Murong Xun no longer traveled with the group. The three from the Dark Night team felt much the same—being around such a powerhouse put them under constant pressure. Initially, the shared burden of the quest had bound them together in genuine cooperation, but now that obligation was gone, the harsh reality of this war-torn world set in; here, seizing from others was a valid path to strength.

At this time, Fang Yige and the others were busy poring over the information recorded on the scroll, determined to find that piece of golden equipment first. They had no time to concern themselves with people not even at the first rank.

With their paths diverging, Murong Xun, now free of pressing matters, decided to return to the apothecary for some much-needed rest. After a full day of battle, exhaustion weighed on him.

But as he neared the shop, he noticed a figure standing not far away, arms crossed, leaning against a pillar, smiling at him.

Murong Xun paused and met her gaze.

“Care to have a chat?” Boya called out with unmistakable satisfaction. Though she had left the treasury empty-handed, this unexpected gain was not a bad outcome.

“There’s nothing to discuss,” Murong Xun replied coldly, moving toward the apothecary.

“Finders keepers, but splitting the spoils is only fair! Isn’t hoarding everything for yourself a little greedy?” In a flash, Boya blocked his path.

She moved so swiftly that Murong Xun, caught mid-stride, nearly collided with her ample chest.

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” Murong Xun frowned, changing direction.

“Heh.” Boya scoffed. “In this world of war, you can plunder everything from your opponent—and you get more chances to do so.”

“Is that so?” Murong Xun turned to look at her. “You mean the slaughter mode? Come to think of it, this is my first time experiencing it.”

As he spoke, he slashed at her without warning.

“So you’re not a life-skills player after all!” Boya exclaimed.

She flipped back, head thrown high, and in a sudden transformation became a leopard, putting distance between them.

Murong Xun gripped his Tang blade in silence, following in pursuit. The bonus from one of his attributes made him frighteningly fast.

Boya leaped onto a nearby rooftop and suddenly pounced down at him. Murong Xun, without hesitation, raised his blade to strike—only to see Boya’s leaping form vanish midair.

A grunt escaped Murong Xun as a searing pain flared across his back. The force of the blow sent him staggering forward. The assault from behind continued unabated.

But Murong Xun was not one to sit and take a beating. He spun and stabbed with his blade at his rear.

A soft laugh sounded by his ear. “Won’t you reconsider and agree?” The words came with a rush of warm breath; heat flared at his ear, and his vision swam, everything growing blurry.

By the time he regained his senses, three bloody gashes had appeared on each of his hands.

“Your resistance is impressive!” Boya remarked, once again widening the gap between them.

Her build was focused on both agility and spirit—she was not only extremely fast but her mental prowess was formidable as well. Seldom had anyone recovered so quickly from her psychic allure.

With this array of abilities, she was nearly invincible in assassinations.

Earlier, she had lingered at the rear, her suspicions of Murong Xun growing. She’d watched him closely and saw him, by some trick, pocketing a trove of loot from the treasury. Though not items of the highest value, they were still excellent, and she naturally wanted a share.

Killing for treasure came with risks. Even if she succeeded in the kill, she might not get what she wanted. It was better to negotiate for a cut up front.

But she had underestimated Murong Xun and misread his nature.

Seeing her keep her distance, Murong Xun calmly took out a potion and drank it, restoring his health, then produced another vial filled with a black liquid and smashed it to the ground.

At first, Boya didn’t understand his intent, but soon a black mist enveloped the area. The moment she tried to step through it, pain lanced through her, and her health began to plummet.

By now, Murong Xun had activated his innate talent, infusing his Tang blade with the power of darkness.

That nocturnal stalker had already shown him that this nation did not shun dark powers, so there was no need to hide his attributes.

Power was simply power; evil was not in the attribute, but in the person.

With his affinity for darkness awakened, and under the influence of the night-shroud potion, Murong Xun felt a surge—he was faster, stronger.

In a single stride, he closed in on Boya and slashed down.

Startled by his sudden burst of speed, Boya barely dodged, but still suffered a blow to her side.

Crying out in pain, Boya reverted to human form, clutching her waist with one hand while whipping out a spray with the other, staunching the bleeding.

But the delay cost her—Murong Xun was already upon her, blade at the ready.

“Let’s call a truce, shall we? I don’t want your loot anymore, I promise I won’t breathe a word,” Boya pleaded, trapped in this confined space where her greatest strengths were useless.

Standing there, her face pale, she looked up at Murong Xun with a pitiful expression. Her delicate features and alluring figure would have turned many a head—but not his.

Alas, for all her charms, she might as well have been playing music to a cow. She had met a man utterly immune to her wiles.

Murong Xun believed that if a conflict could be avoided, it should be—but once battle was joined, it was best to kill decisively.

Seeing his resolve, Boya reluctantly produced an item. With a puff of smoke, a towering puppet materialized beside her.

“Kill him!” she ordered hastily. This was her trump card, her one and only insurance policy—she couldn’t be more frustrated to use it now, but there was no other choice.

As an assassin-type, her worst matchup was someone like Murong Xun—well-armored, with high health, and, most crucially, great attack power without sacrificing speed.

Because of this, she was powerless against him and now found herself trapped, unable to escape.

When she summoned the puppet, Murong Xun wasted no time engaging it.

The puppet was formidable—tough and durable—but ultimately not human. Its movements were mechanical and stiff. Had this been before the dueling trials, he would have stood no chance, but after dying countless times, his combat experience was now a world apart from what it once was.