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The square was quiet, occasionally broken by the intermittent snores. Under the glory of fire, everyone could see a figure seated in each tent, cultivating as the surrounding spiritual energy poured into their tents.
The arrow traveled across the air from a massive rock towards Liu Wuxie’s tent. It was just ten meters away, and it would only take half a breath for it to pierce into the tent. The tents weren’t huge and could only accommodate a person at best, leaving no space for anyone to avoid the incoming arrow.
The arrow punctured a small hole in the tent and struck the person inside. A groan was heard shortly after, followed by the sound of a body slowly collapsing to the ground.
A smile spread across the face of the black-clothed youth. His crossbow, a spiritual artifact, had never failed him in his numerous assassinations over the years. Having completed his mission, he disappeared into the darkness like a cat, reappearing in the woods three miles away.
“How did it go?” Xue Pinzhi asked, having not yet departed. Even without the patriarch’s orders, he would have...
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