Chapter 96: Assassin

The midnight hour approached.

Inside the array formation, Theo maintained his focus. The newly formed sphere hovered before him. He noticed something remarkable as Corey channeled his golden qi into the mix.

"I must tighten the array bindings," Elder Thorne called out from the edge of the formation.

Recognizing the elder’s exhaustion, Theo acted.

He didn’t break his concentration on the Abyssal Forge. Instead, he released a subtle wave of the Supreme Yin energy he had stored from his dual cultivation with Liana.

A mist drifted across the courtyard, washing over Thorne.

Thorne’s erratic breathing steadied. His scattered thoughts crystallized into sharp focus, the mental fatigue banished by the pristine clarity of the Yin aura.

"What kind of intent is this?" Thorne murmured in awe.

His hands never stopped weaving the array seals. "Now, the final compression!"

"Hold on!" Corey yelled.

Corey’s hands blurred as he tossed in a handful of thousand-year-old blood-root and crushed star-gems.

The ingredients dissolved instantly, fusing with the metal shell.

A quarter of an hour passed. The heat grew oppressive.

Then, the meridians on the sphere flared with a brilliantly bright crimson light.

A muffled explosion shook the courtyard.

The concussive force broke the surrounding clay tiles and blew out the paper lanterns lining the walls.

Thorne immediately deployed a shimmering qi-barrier to protect the main estate from the blast, prioritizing the safety of the sleeping disciples.

The pressure inside the cauldron reached a critical mass. The broad brass lid blasted off its hinges, shooting straight up into the night sky like a cannonball, trailing a comet-tail of black smoke.

"Corey!" Thorne shouted, rushing forward despite the residual heat.

"Master..." Corey stumbled out of the smoke.

His eyes were spinning in opposite directions, and his tongue hung out of his mouth.

"Master, why do you have three noses? Are you practicing a forbidden art?"

Corey giggled foolishly, swaying on his feet.

Thorne slapped the back of Corey’s head with a smack.

Corey blinked, his vision clearing instantly. "Ouch."

"Where is Theo?" Thorne demanded, peering anxiously into the swirling smoke.

This was the defining moment of Thorne’s alchemical career.

If the core had destabilized at the final second, it would prove that his life’s work on permanent external energy containment was fundamentally flawed.

A shadow moved within the smoke. Theo stepped out, his clothes slightly singed.

He let out a sigh.

"I apologize, Elder Thorne," Theo said, shaking his head. "The meridians collapsed during the final compression. We failed."

Thorne froze.

"I see," Thorne whispered, his shoulders sagging. "External Qi-Cores... it was always a delusion. Do not blame yourself, young master. Failure was expected. We just wasted a fortune in rare materials."

Corey rubbed the back of his head, looking confused.

"Failed?" Corey asked. "But I just watched Theo absorb the metal sphere into his dantian?"

Thorne stiffened. He slowly turned his head to look at the young prodigy.

Theo spread his hands and offered a crooked grin. "You actually believed me?"

Thorne’s face turned a dangerous shade of purple. "I will murder you, you disrespectful brat!"

"It was a joke!" Theo laughed, turning and sprinting toward the estate’s inner gardens.

"Get back here!" Thorne roared, giving chase.

The two figures blurred as they tore through the courtyard.

The true genius of the ancient scripture’s method was the seamless integration. Because the core was synchronized with his aura, Theo didn’t have to consciously extract the energy.

It flowed into his leg meridians automatically, granting him the explosive acceleration of a seasoned body-refining master without the stamina drain.

But Thorne was a veteran Inner Scenery expert.

He didn’t bother trying to match the youth’s speed. Thorne simply stamped his foot, expanding his spiritual domain.

A localized pressure field erupted, pinning Theo to the stone like a mountain had been dropped on his shoulders.

"Could you not learn proper etiquette instead of mimicking your master’s terrible habits?" Thorne huffed, walking up to the trapped youth.

"Vespera has some redeeming qualities," Theo argued, struggling against the pressure field.

"Name one."

Theo opened his mouth, then closed it. He couldn’t think of a single one.

Meanwhile, Corey wandered over to the remains of the array formation to clean up the mess.

He looked down at the smoking brass cauldron, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"Elder Thorne," Corey called out. "The broad lid has not come back down yet."

...

Miles away, the narrow alleys of the Merchant Ward were bathed in the dead silence of the midnight hour.

A figure dressed in gray cloth slinked through the shadows.

Silas the Mad Blade paused near the edge of a rusted aqueduct, scanning the empty street.

"No trailing auras," Silas muttered to himself.

He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

The spirit-binding ropes the sect elders used were formidable, but Silas had spent decades escaping impossible situations.

A dislocated thumb and a rudimentary application of his Phantom-Strike intent were all he needed to slip free while the sect members were distracted by their alchemical experiments.

He had no intention of continuing his assassination mission against Theo. He didn’t care about the Syndicate’s honor, and he certainly didn’t care about Archon Zelia’s petty vendettas.

His loyalty belonged entirely to the pouch of high-grade spirit stones Theo had dropped on the table.

However, he needed to send a signal to Archon Zelia immediately. If he failed to check in, Zelia would assume he was dead.

The Syndicate would multiply the bounty on Theo by tenfold, unleashing a swarm of elite killers upon the capital.

If Theo died, Silas wouldn’t get his promised triple-pay...

He would send his report, play dead, and sneak back to the estate to collect his payment before retiring to the southern coast.

Silas took a step forward, reaching into his robes to retrieve a signaling flare.

A strange sound cut through the silence above him.

Silas paused. He looked up.

A broad black object was plummeting from the sky at terminal velocity.

Before his brain could even process the incoming threat, the object arrived.

The brass cauldron lid connected with the top of Silas’s skull.

The ring echoed through the empty alleyway like a temple bell. Silas’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he collapsed onto the stone like a puppet with its strings cut.

Ten minutes later...

A small figure approached from the opposite end of the alley. Elara trudged through the shadows, carrying her training sword over her shoulder.

She had snuck out of the estate to practice her swings in peace, hoping exhaustion would keep her mind off her intimidating brother.

She stopped, blinking in confusion at the pile on the street.

"Is that the waiter who tried to stab Theo?" Elara murmured, stepping closer.

She nudged the unconscious assassin with the tip of her wooden sword.

Silas groaned softly, a large welt already forming on his forehead.

Elara sighed in disappointment.

He was still alive, which meant she couldn’t ethically loot his spatial ring for spare spirit stones.

"Did Theo send him out here?" she wondered aloud.

She decided to bring him back to the estate for questioning. She reached down, grabbing Silas by the ankle with her left hand.

With her right hand, she hoisted the brass lid, recognizing the intricate engravings of the Silent Thunder Sect’s alchemy division.

She began the long walk back to the estate, dragging the assassin behind her.