Chapter 169: Assassination

Chapter 169: Chapter 169: Assassination

Lucius’s current identity was the Celestial race — a species addicted to slaughter down to their very bones. Looking at the dark red killing intent radiating around him, thick as fog, Jeremy immediately understood: Lucius, like him, was more or less being controlled by the totem.

Perhaps even more heavily. In real life, Lucius was a germaphobe to the extent of refusing to touch another person’s blood without a reason. The person standing there was currently licking a bloodstain off his finger.

But because Lucius’s race in the illusion was different from his, it proved one of his previous speculations was wrong.

The array caster wasn’t necessarily the Ninth Mermaid Prince. If the totem could assign each person a different race, then the mastermind behind it could also be of any race.

As for what that person ultimately wanted from the five of them, they would probably have to reach the final step to find out.

Realizing the commander and a few other Ice Dragons had turned to look at him — the only one in the squad who hadn’t lifted a finger yet — Jeremy took a deep breath, hesitating no more.

His hands transformed into dragon claws. He lunged straight forward, bypassing two weaker Mermaids, and engaged the strongest one in this zone — a Mermaid warrior with a silver dorsal fin, who was currently using his trident to repel three Ice Dragons simultaneously.

Before clashing, he transmitted a voice message to Lucius: "I’ll find a way into the inner city. You stay here and complete the task. We’ll meet outside Spirit Water City when we’re done."

A succinct reply echoed back: "Yeah."

Then he plunged into the battle.

The dragon claws collided with the trident shaft, striking underwater sparks.

While fighting, Jeremy used the Mermaids’ exclusive high-frequency voice transmission — a sound Ice Dragons couldn’t hear — to inform his opponent of his true identity and his objective.

"I am the Ninth Prince. I am undergoing my coming-of-age ceremony. Play along with me."

The warrior’s eyes widened for a beat. Though astonished, the trident in his hand didn’t stop, only every thrust missed by an inch. He complied with Jeremy’s intention.

The two engaged in a seemingly fierce battle — the water churning into vortexes, scales and blood flying everywhere, the collisions echoing with deep explosive sounds. But not a single strike actually hit a vital spot.

Under the cover of that battle, Jeremy slowly shifted toward the edge of the combat zone. When a new wave of Mermaids surged over, he successfully blended into the Ice Dragons retreating to the rear lines, taking the opportunity to escape the area.

As for Lucius... his task was inherently to hunt the Sea race, and the required number didn’t seem to stop at one.

So him staying behind was actually the most logical choice. On the battlefield, the Sea race was not lacking. There was no need to risk following Jeremy all the way to the Ice Dragon royal palace.

Once these two races went to war, it wouldn’t stop for a few months. According to historical records, the shortest battle also lasted four months.

He could complete his task during that period and it wouldn’t be too late to regroup.

Having decided, Jeremy immediately took advantage of the chaotic magic exploding across the battlefield, hiding himself in a fog created by the clash of ice and fire magic, and sneaked toward the inner city gates.

Fortunately, the outer city was in a chaotic melee, so the inner defenses weren’t too strict.

The majority of the guards had been deployed to the front lines. Only four guards remained at the city gates, and all four were craning their necks toward the battlefield.

Taking a bit of time to wait for a batch of wounded to be carried back, he blended in with the stretcher-bearers and finally slipped through.

Having passed the first hurdle, the dozen or so cities ahead were easier. He merely needed to disguise himself as an ordinary Ice Dragon, then use the identities and tags of those who had died on the battlefield to travel.

He retrieved four tags from four corpses drifting near the city gates.

Using each tag for three or four cities, changing his appearance every time he swapped tags.

It took nearly seven days for him to reach the area bordering the Ice Dragon royal palace.

The royal palace guards couldn’t be compared to other places. The walls were twice as high, the guards stood five paces apart, each at the threshold of tier five or higher.

Atop the walls was draped a thin ice barrier layer; touching it would trigger an alarm.

Jeremy lay concealed in an algae forest opposite the palace gates, observing for a full two days. Memorizing the shift changes. Memorizing the numbers. Memorizing the people permitted to enter and exit.

On the third day, a delegation of foreign envoys arrived for a visit. The side gate was opened to transport the tribute gifts. Taking advantage of the guards being busy inspecting dozens of chests, he sneaked in through the side gate, mingling among the porters.

Wanting to complete a hunting task naturally meant targeting the weakest.

After all, this was an illusion. The people here had died billions of years ago.

Jeremy held no superfluous compassion.

If the opponent didn’t die, the one to die would be him — the dying wish had clearly stated: death.

The weight of the matter, he distinguished very clearly.

Spending another day hiding in the storehouse area to fully grasp the palace’s layout, Jeremy selected the palace of the seventeenth prince in the rear harem.

His target this time was exactly him.

The descendants of the Dragon race far outnumbered the Mermaids — the Ice Dragon King had twenty-three sons. Among them, according to the gossip of the attendants, the seventeenth prince was frail and sickly, the weakest of them all.

His mother died early before he even hatched from his egg. Neglected by the Ice Dragon King, he was tossed into a side palace to be raised since childhood. His cultivation level wasn’t high either — according to rumors, he had just touched the threshold of tier four. Without a doubt, he was the optimal choice.

Late at night, the seawater was dead still. Jeremy followed his memorized route, dodging wave after wave of dragon patrol guards, slipping past three courtyards, then scaling the final high wall and jumping down.

His feet touched the ground. Not a single sound.

Although he had researched this prince’s circumstances beforehand, seeing where he lived still surprised Jeremy.

A dilapidated house nestled in the deepest corner of the rear harem. The roof tiles were chipped. Moss grew on the walls. The window was half-broken, temporarily patched with a large fish scale.

In the courtyard, there was no coral, only a few tufts of yellowed, sparse algae.

It was worse than a cold palace. It didn’t even deserve the word "palace".

This was no longer just being out of favor. It was clearly deliberate oppression to the point of hoping he would die on his own.

But now wasn’t the time to pity anyone. The water-patterned bone blade appeared in his hand, heavy and cold.

Under its reinforcement, his power was elevated another notch. Magic power flowed through the blade, causing the wave patterns on it to glow faintly.

Having prepared everything, Jeremy compressed his aura down to the absolute lowest — so low that even a fish swimming by wouldn’t realize there was a person there — and extremely cautiously sneaked inside.

Perhaps because he was out of favor, the palace wasn’t large. Inside, there were only three rooms, looking like it had been cleared out of an old storehouse; marks from dismantled shelves still lingered on the walls. He quickly found the bedchamber in the innermost room.

This small space was unlike other places in the royal palace — there were no luminous pearls, no illuminating magical artifacts, not even a single glowing algae lamp. Pitch-black as ink.

The plain silk curtain at the back of the room hung very low, almost touching the floor, separating the bed into its own dark zone. The curtain was thin. A silhouette could be faintly seen lying on its side inside, facing away from the outside.

Jeremy borrowed magic power to enhance his night vision. The world before his eyes shifted into a pale gray hue. Although he could still only see general outlines, it was enough.

His footsteps were extremely light. Every step placed the toe down first, then lowered the heel. Holding his breath. Step by step, he approached closer.

Reaching the edge of the bed. His left fingertips touched the curtain.

The tip of the bone blade followed, piercing through the gap in the curtain. In the dim light, the water ripples swirling around the blade radiated a faint dark blue glow, shining onto the thin blanket.

The next moment, Jeremy channeled magic power into the blade tip, swung his arm, and plunged it down, aiming straight for the carotid artery.

The sharp tip tore through the first layer of skin. A drop of blood oozed out.

But just as it was about to touch the blood vessel, the person on the bed rolled over. And the dark blue light from the blade itself shone directly onto the face that had just emerged from the darkness.

Upon recognizing those familiar facial features, Jeremy abruptly stopped his hand. The blade halted less than a knuckle’s length from the opponent’s throat.

At the same time, the one seemingly deep in slumber suddenly opened his eyes.

The pitch-black eyes in the night could not hide the gloomy, dense killing intent. ℴ

Just as Jeremy’s bone blade diverted its course, a short blade was already pressed against his neck.

Cold. Sharp. It had already cut a thin line into his skin.

Facing that sudden counterattack, Jeremy did not move. He raised his eyes to look at the familiar person before him.

The reason he stopped his hand was, naturally, because this face was exactly identical to Phoenix’s.

Messy black hair. Dark circles under the eyes. Skin pale as if it had never seen the light. Everything was identical.

He lowered his eyes to glance at the short blade against his neck.

The hand holding it — distinct knuckles, long fingers — bore patches of dark blue dragon scales and the mark symbolizing the Ice Dragon race. And on the back of the hand, the Ashbloom Flower totem still hadn’t faded, glowing faintly.

The person before him was indeed Phoenix. But that gaze was absolutely unfamiliar — lacking its usual absent-minded lethargy, containing only the coldness of someone preparing to kill.

Controlled too?

Jeremy caught his surging killing intent, the fingers gripping the blade tightening. As a precaution, the bone blade in his hand swung upward, thrusting out, forcing the opponent back.

"Phoenix, wake up!"

The bone blade’s edge clashed with the short blade. The short blade was knocked out of his hand, dropping onto the stone floor, spinning a few times.

The violent shock caused Phoenix to stumble backward several steps, his back hitting the headboard.

Then he froze, as if just waking from a dream.

He was stunned for a moment, raising his hand to massage his temples, his fingers trembling slightly.

Then he looked up at Jeremy, his gaze changed — bewildered, confused.

He hesitantly called out: "...Captain?"

He looked around the dark room, looked down at his own dragon-scaled hand, his expression as dazed as a lost child.

Jeremy had confirmed it: this illusion within an illusion could interfere with their minds, and interfere very deeply.

But the extent to which he was affected was clearly lighter than Phoenix. He only had his speech blocked and limbs controlled for a brief moment. While Phoenix had his entire consciousness replaced.

Giving face to the fact the opponent was Phoenix — and because he would never stab his teammate in this lifetime — Jeremy had to scrap his initial assassination plan and choose another target.

He put away the bone blade, summoned a small light magic orb to hover in the middle of the room, lighting it up.

"Do you remember anything that happened before coming here?"

Phoenix narrowed his eyes at the sudden light. He nodded slightly: "I can recall a bit now. The palace. The door. But the memories are inexplicably chaotic. As if someone scrambled them."

"Did the totem on your hand assign any task?" Jeremy repeated the question he had once asked Lucius.

Phoenix looked down at the back of his hand, silent for a few seconds.

"No."

An answer completely opposite to Lucius’s.

Jeremy started to feel annoyed. There was no pattern. Each person was different. Some had tasks, some didn’t. Some were lightly controlled, some had their entire minds taken over.

But stumbling upon Phoenix by sheer coincidence could still be considered a good thing.

He took out the map, spread it on the edge of the bed, and pointed to a city located on the outermost western ring:

"My task is to assassinate someone from the Ice Dragon royal family. If you don’t have a task, go to the assembly point outside Spirit Water City and wait first. When I’m done, I’ll come out to regroup. Lucius is probably still on the outermost battlefield; when he finishes his task, he’ll head there too. Calculating the time, he’ll probably arrive before me."

"?"

Phoenix looked at him, full of doubt. Then he raised his hand and pointed behind Jeremy.

"Isn’t he standing right behind you, Captain?"

Jeremy: "?"