Chapter 1: Rather Die Than Surrender

The Blue-Clad Tower Wolves have existed on the continent of Caxiu for over a century, historically specializing in assassination. Their organization claims to number one hundred thousand members—though the true figure remains unknown to outsiders. All anyone knows is this: once targeted by the Blue-Clad Tower Wolves, no matter how far one flees—to the very ends of the earth—they will be hunted down to their death.

The fees they charge for commissions are staggering. Over the past hundred years, through relentless elimination of targets, they have amassed immense wealth. It is precisely this vast fortune that enables them to maintain an intelligence network spanning nearly every corner of the continent. Mels knew that even if he escaped today, he would still face the organization’s unrelenting pursuit!

Whether to fight or flee required no deliberation. Akafir was gravely injured, his combat capability reduced to half strength; if Sol’s Summoned Beast could not gain the upper hand against a warrior, he would be walking straight to his death; Mels understood better than anyone just how formidable his own Summoned Beast truly was; Rek—the only one capable of mounting any real resistance—wasn’t even certain he could hold his ground against a single one of them—and now they faced *four* enemies!

After Mels’s brief exchange with the Four Saints of the Blue Tower, Rek had returned to his side. As if preparing for an extended conversation with the four, Mels handed the wounded Akafir—slung across his back—over to Rek. During the transfer, he scribbled on Rek’s palm: *When you see your chance, run—fast. Head for the mountain on the right. Don’t worry about me!*

Ignoring Rek’s stunned, suspicious expression, Mels stepped forward and addressed the young man: “By the way—I haven’t even asked your names yet.” Hearing Mels suddenly drop his arrogant bluster and instead strike up casual conversation—as if meeting old friends—the young man was momentarily taken aback before replying, “We are the Nine Saints, directly subordinate to the Blue Tower’s main headquarters. As for our names… I don’t think there’s any need to give them.”

“Oh—so you’re from the Blue Tower’s main hall. Tsk, what a resounding name—*Blue-Clad Tower Wolves*—why must you call it something as bland as ‘Blue Tower’? Made us think your Young Master was some brothel thug—hence this whole misunderstanding. Big brothers, might you let me off just this once?” Mels assumed a subservient, bowing posture—and used the conversation to inch one step closer to the four.

“Dream on!” This time, before the young man could respond, the woman among the four shouted sharply.

But before she could continue, Mels suddenly barked, “Who do you think you are? I’m speaking to your leader! When did *you* get permission to speak?” His sharp retort instantly ignited the woman’s fury—yet this time, Mels clearly sensed her growing resentment toward the young man.

“Third Sister is in command—stop trying to sow discord! Besides, even if *we* were willing to spare you, the Tower Master would never agree. Prepare to accept your fate—no more nonsense. Die *now*!” In truth, the young man had already noticed the middle-aged woman growing agitated under Mels’s goading, so he hurriedly attempted to end the standoff by launching an attack.

Yet how could Mels relinquish such a rare opportunity? He threw his head back and laughed wildly before declaring, “I never imagined the continent-renowned Blue-Clad Tower Wolves would fear a few words from a nobody like me. How utterly pathetic!”

Hearing this, the woman immediately seized the young man’s arm and snapped, “Ninth Brother—what’s the rush? Do you think he’ll fly away?” The young man, already poised to act, caught her meaning and reluctantly lowered his hands—aborting his summoning—and inwardly sighed, *Third Sister, as you wish.*

“Speak up, kid! Let’s see what tricks you’ve got!” Seeing the young man cowed by her authority, the woman swelled with self-importance and addressed Mels with undisguised arrogance.

“Heh—just as expected. This big sister truly has class. I hope you’ll forgive my earlier disrespect.” Mels smiled faintly, secretly elated that his plan—to buy Rek precious time to find an escape route—had advanced another step, while the young man among the Four Saints sighed inwardly.

“Enough nonsense, kid. Say what you came to say—*now*.” Though her tone remained hostile, Mels detected a subtle note of smugness. He pressed on swiftly: “Big sister—truthfully, capturing me would be *bad* for you!” As he spoke, he subtly watched her reaction and hastily added, “Please don’t get angry yet, big sister—let me finish.

The Blue-Clad Tower Wolves are the continent’s most renowned assassination organization—packed with elite experts and seasoned operatives. I’m just a nobody—an ant. If capturing someone like me requires experts of *your* caliber, wouldn’t the Blue Tower’s prestige suffer a serious blow?” Anyone with half a brain would recognize Mels’s words as pure stalling—but to the arrogant woman, they struck a different chord.

“Enough nonsense. This is the Tower Master’s direct order. We deploy our top fighters—even for civilian targets!” Seeing Mels ramble on, the young man couldn’t help but interrupt again. Yet once more, his reaction played perfectly into Mels’s hands.

Mels gave a bitter laugh and said, “Big sister—I think you should just kill me *now*.”

“Hmm? Just moments ago you were groveling for mercy. Why now demand a quick death?” The woman still failed to grasp Mels’s intent.

“Ah—what else can I do? Earlier, I assumed this big brother was your leader—but when I realized *you*, big sister, were the true mastermind, yet every decision still rests with *him*… At this rate, I don’t even know who to negotiate with. So dying is simpler!” Mels said, wearing a bitter smile.

“Ninth Brother—didn’t I tell you to let him finish? Why must you keep butting in?” Only then did the woman understand Mels’s implication. She whirled angrily toward the young man.

Hearing her rebuke, the young man inwardly cursed Mels’s shamelessness and cunning—but bowed his head to the middle-aged woman, bound by the Blue Tower’s rigid hierarchy. “This younger brother acted presumptuously. Please forgive me, Third Sister.”

After the apology, the woman snorted coldly, ignoring him, and turned back to Mels. “Continue, kid!”

“Thank you, big sister.” Mels bowed respectfully—yet no one noticed the flash of triumph that crossed his face the instant his head dipped.

“Just now, I said—for the Blue-Clad Tower Wolves’ reputation—you shouldn’t capture me. Now I want to say—for *your own sakes*—you shouldn’t capture me either!

Consider this, big sister: Of all those your organization has ever targeted—who among them has lived to see a hundred years? If I surrender today, it’s like leaping into a fire pit myself! For the sake of my life—even unwilling to fight you, even knowing I’m outmatched—I’ll fight with everything I have, to the death. Big sister—you saw for yourselves earlier how we broke through the siege of *five* of your organization’s experts. You must realize—we’re not easy prey to take alive. If anyone gets injured in the fight—or worse—if your beautiful face is scarred—that would be truly disastrous!

Therefore—for *your* sakes—especially *yours*, big sister—shouldn’t you refrain from capturing us?” Mels spoke with utter sincerity.

“Hmph—*are you threatening me*?” The woman demanded sharply—her killing intent surging.

“No, no, no!” Mels frantically waved his hands in denial—then, having edged even closer to the Four Saints, said, “How could I *dare* threaten you? I told you before—you’re a celestial fairy; I’m an ant crawling on the ground. How could I possibly threaten you? I’m simply saying that since the Blue Tower’s pursuit is the swiftest and sharpest in the world, you could simply let me go *today*. Report that we slipped past your defensive position—let other experts from your organization handle the chase! That way, you avoid unnecessary injury—and I avoid fighting a fairy like you. Isn’t that a perfect solution for *both*?

Moreover—if you think *that* method still won’t work—I have another, *even better* plan!”

“What plan?” Mels’s words were gradually steering the woman’s thoughts—and her vigilance toward him had dropped to its lowest ebb.

“The method is…” Mels closed the distance once more—now less than three meters separated them.

Suddenly—a flash of cold light! Without warning, Mels drew the Soft Sword hidden at his waist and slashed upward from below—aiming straight for the woman’s vital chest and abdomen! A scream tore through the air as blood erupted across her torso. In that life-or-death moment, Mels had long abandoned restraint—determined to kill her with that single strike. Unfortunately, a soft sword is difficult to wield with full force the instant it leaves its scabbard. Though the blow grievously wounded her, it failed to claim her life.

The young man—ever wary of Mels, eyes fixed on the long sword at his waist—never anticipated a blade suddenly appearing in Mels’s hand from nowhere! That split-second miscalculation cost him the critical chance to save his comrade.

Even after landing the strike, Mels didn’t relent. Judging by their physiques, Mels deduced the thinner of the two men in their thirties must be a mage. Having severely wounded the woman, he seized every second—lunging at the thin man and driving the soft sword deep into his chest before the other two could draw their weapons.

Ah! Another piercing scream. Just as Mels prepared to turn on the young man next—he failed to notice the strange glow flaring in the mage’s palms, though he should have collapsed.

Boom! A deafening explosion echoed as Mels felt a massive impact—and searing pain ripped through his chest and abdomen. It turned out the mage, in his dying breath, had unleashed a basic fire spell: a fireball—requiring no incantation—shot from his palm and struck Mels’s chest with pinpoint accuracy.

Though weak, the fireball hit at point-blank range—sending Mels staggering backward several meters. Waves of agony made it impossible to steady himself!

“Boss!” Seeing Mels struck hard, Rek—overcome with concern—forgot Mels’s earlier plan and stepped forward, ready to join the fray.

But Rek’s shout jolted Mels fully back to awareness. “Idiot—*run now*!” Mels roared, twisting to face him. Before the words left his mouth, the remaining burly middle-aged man and the young man charged from left and right—wielding a silver spear and long sword respectively.

“Boss, you—” Rek froze, stunned by Mels’s ferocity—torn between advancing or fleeing. Sol, without a word, clasped his hands—forming a magic seal—ready to enter battle.

“You two fools! Do you want to wait until *more* enemies arrive—and surround us for total annihilation? *Get out of here—now!* I won’t die. Meet at the agreed location—in *three months*!” Gritting his teeth against the pain, Mels wielded the soft sword in his left hand and the long sword in his right—fending off both Blue Tower experts alone.

In a fight without Summoned Beasts, Mels was absolutely confident he’d lose to no one. At this moment, he understood even more clearly: his victory or defeat determined the lives of his three brothers. His fighting spirit soared—indomitable! Rek stared, locked onto Mels’s desperate struggle—unable to decide whether to flee.

“Rek—do you want to watch the boss die? *Go help him!* If you run now—we’re no longer brothers!” Engaged in close combat with the two experts, Mels couldn’t spare a glance—Sol’s magic was gathered but couldn’t be unleashed. In his panic, Sol redirected his anger toward Rek, frozen in place.

Sol’s words acted like a catalyst. Rek made his decision in that instant. He flashed to Sol’s side—and struck Sol’s neck with his palm.

“Rek—you—” Struck without warning, Sol glanced back—then collapsed. Rek ignored him. He tucked Sol under his right arm, hoisted the unconscious Akafir onto his left shoulder—and said to Mels, tears welling in his eyes: “Boss—I’ll wait for you three months. If you don’t come by then—I’ll join you below!” With that, Rek spun—and dashed into the dense forest beside them—vanishing into the deep mountains.

“Brothers—be careful.” Trapped in the pincer attack of the two experts, Mels was already in grave peril. At that moment, he could only silently wish for his brothers’ safe escape.

The two Blue Tower Saints seemed indifferent to Rek’s escape. Their focus narrowed entirely to Mels—every movement, every strike aimed at his vital points. Mels was besieged on all fronts: the searing pain in his chest and abdomen was unbearable; he’d exhausted every sword technique yet couldn’t land a single blow on his opponents; meanwhile, their attacks came in relentless waves—any moment threatening to cleave him in two.

*How do I shake them off?* The thought had barely formed when the spear-wielding burly man suddenly leapt back—as if attempting to disengage. Mels inwardly cursed—*this was bad!* Just as feared, the burly man leveled his spear—its tip locking onto Mels—then stood perfectly still. In the blink of an eye, strange points of light began glowing along the spear’s length.

“Furious Dragon Spear Technique—Million Divine Dragons Shatter!” the burly man roared—leaping skyward with his spear and bringing it down upon Mels from above. As the spear moved, silvery-white motes detached and shot forth like millions of venomous snakes—swarming Mels from every direction.

Resistance was impossible—even evasion hampered by the young man clinging tightly to him. With no retreat and no way to block, Mels gambled everything. He drove his body as close as possible to the young man entangled with him. Once again, his gamble paid off: the spear-wielding man—fearing he might strike his own comrade—had deliberately left a one-meter radius around the young man completely untouched by the technique.

Though Mels avoided instant death from the spear’s energy, his maneuvering space shrank drastically. The young man’s long sword cut him in several places—blood instantly staining Mels’s clothes deep crimson. Despite the peril—and repeated wounds from the two Blue Tower Saints—Mels never lost confidence. He parried the young man’s sharp long sword—while keeping one eye on the spear-wielding man still suspended mid-air.

Sarikat and the others had taught Mels since childhood: after unleashing a technique that consumed vast Qi energy, a person reached their weakest moment. Mels waited—for that precise instant—to escape. Sure enough, when the furious spear technique ended, the burly man—depleted of Qi—began descending from mid-air. His face paled—exhaustion etched deep.

*Now!* Seeing his chance had arrived, Mels knew missing it meant no second chance. With a wild cry, he mobilized every last ounce of Qi in his body: “Heavenly Wind Blade—Wind Rises and Clouds Gather!” As if shouting to bolster his courage, Mels flicked his wrist—swinging his long sword. Though his Qi couldn’t solidify and launch like Sarikat’s, it still blazed white as the blade carved through the air.

The young man watched Mels—like a madman—completely expose his chest and abdomen—swinging the sword down toward his head. Though confident he could strike Mels first, he refused to risk his life against this cornered rat. So he retreated—unintentionally opening a path for Mels.

Seeing the enemy sidestep, Mels—without hesitation—raised the soft sword in his left hand, leapt sideways, merged his body with the blade—and shot toward the burly man descending from mid-air. Only then did the retreating young man realize: Mels wasn’t fighting to kill him—he was fighting desperately to *escape*.

“Where do you think you’re going?!” The young man whirled—and thrust his sword fiercely at Mels’s flank. But Mels ignored the strike—still hurtling toward the spear-wielding man. Faced with this suicidal assault, the burly man—Qi spent—could only clumsily roll aside on the ground to evade. Though the young man’s blade pierced half an inch into Mels’s waist, Mels had shattered their pincer defense. Agonizing pain lanced through his lower back—but he dared not hesitate. The instant he landed, he sprang up—and shot into the dense forest.

Watching Mels vanish into the trees, the young man felt a chill crawl up his spine.

“Seventh Brother—are you alright?” the young man asked, helping the fallen spear-wielder rise.

“I’m fine. That kid is something else. First, he trapped Third Sister with words—then struck Fourth Brother in an instant. If Fourth Brother hadn’t counterattacked quickly, *we’d* be in trouble too! Sigh—now that he’s escaped, we’re in deep water! Neither of our Summoned Beasts is suited for pursuit—Third Sister’s Silver Thread Spider King lies paralyzed over there; Fourth Brother’s Fire-Winged Beast *would* be ideal—but Fourth Brother’s condition is unknown—*生死未卜*. What do we do, Ninth Brother?” The spear-wielder remained shaken by Mels’s earlier assault.

“That kid is seriously injured—and fled toward the official road—wide open. If I pursue *now*, I might still intercept him! You tend to Third Sister and Fourth Brother. Wait for Big Brother and the others—then follow the markers I leave!” After a moment’s reflection, the young man declared.

"Alright, I'll follow your lead! That kid is cunning as hell, Old Nine, you must be extremely careful!" the spear-wielding man nodded in agreement.

"Mhm, we can't let this chance slip. I'll go after him now!" Without further delay, the young man leaped out, following the direction of Mels' escape.

Running, a desperate sprint! At this moment, Mels' mind was free from the burning pain in his chest and the agony in his waist. He only knew that pursuers were surely behind him, and he had to escape this dense forest. Time ticked by, and finally, the forest's exit appeared before Mels. Just as he was about to leap out in joy, he suddenly halted his steps.

"No! The main road has no cover. If I rush out recklessly, I'll just be painting a target on my back for the pursuers! What should I do?" Mels suddenly realized how perilous his escape route was.

That's it—first, circle back to the initial attack site, then seize the opportunity to hide in the mountains and escape through the mountain trails! Having made up his mind, to confuse the enemy, Mels used his fastest speed to hastily cover up the trail of blood and footprints he had left along the way, then turned and dashed toward the other side.

About five minutes later, Old Nine of the Nine Saints followed Mels' blood trail and footprints to the forest exit.

"Heh heh, let's see where you run now!" Seeing the blood trail extending to the forest exit, the young man sneered and sprang forward. As soon as he emerged from the forest, he scanned left and right but found no sign of Mels.

"Impossible! I only started a few minutes after him. With his current physical condition, he couldn't possibly move that fast! Could someone have come to his aid?" The young man examined the cart tracks on the main road.

"No carriage has passed by either. What's going on?" The young man paced back and forth, deep in thought.

"If I were trying to escape, what would I do?" At this thought, the young man had a sudden realization. He immediately turned around and vanished back into the dense forest!

Meanwhile, Mels was carefully observing his surroundings while choosing his escape route. Thanks to his correct choice, he indeed encountered no enemies along the way. However, he failed to notice that the wound on his waist, due to continuous movement, had already soaked through the hastily wrapped cloth. Although it wasn't dripping as profusely as before, a few drops would still fall when he leaned against tree trunks or crouched in the grass.

The young man from the Nine Saints advanced slowly through the dense forest. The darkness of night made it impossible for him to see his surroundings clearly. At this moment, he could only rely on his sense of smell to carefully search for the faint scent of blood among the various odors in the forest. Though his progress was slow, perseverance paid off. When the young man followed the weak scent of blood and found a few blades of grass, he gently touched a drop of still-uncoagulated blood on a grass tip and couldn't help but reveal a smug smile. In a flash, he sprang toward the direction he believed Mels had taken.

At this point, Mels was still unaware that his trail had been discovered by the enemy. He was still congratulating himself on not being found yet.

"Ah, I can't go on. I need to rest for a while, or I'll die on this road before even reaching the mountains!" The massive blood loss and his highly alert nerves had pushed the young man's body and willpower to their limits.

"If I manage to escape this time, I'm going to give Sol a good beating! That guy loses his head at the sight of a beauty, getting us tangled up with those Blue-Clad Tower Wolves for no reason! Hah, it's actually kind of funny. A perfectly fine name, and they had to call themselves the 'Blue Tower'! If that damn Young Master had explained earlier that he was from the Blue-Clad Tower Wolves, I might not have gotten involved in this mess!" Mels climbed up a large tree, muttering to himself while re-bandaging his wound.

"Wow, this injury is serious! I wonder what my foster father would think if he saw me like this? Heh heh, if he finds out we've provoked the Blue-Clad Tower Wolves, he might just beat my butt black and blue." Mels said self-deprecatingly. Just as he stopped speaking, a figure suddenly emerged from the grass in the distance. Though still far away, Mels immediately recognized who it was from the blue attire and the gleaming cold steel of the longsword.

What? Caught up so quickly? Ah, how could I forget this guy is the craftiest one! I really should have taken him out first! Mels thought to himself. However, at this moment, he didn't even dare to breathe heavily, fearing the young man would discover him hiding in the tree.

The young man slowly approached the tree where Mels was hiding, crouched down, and carefully observed for a moment before muttering to himself, "The scent of blood is particularly strong here! That kid must have bandaged his wound here." With that, he began meticulously searching the surrounding area.

Still not leaving? Hurry up and get lost! Mels kept shouting in his mind. At that moment, he suddenly felt something trickling down his lower back. Oh no! Mels inwardly exclaimed, reaching back to block his hip. Sure enough, a drop of blood was sliding down his lower back. If Mels hadn't reacted quickly, as soon as that drop hit the ground, his location would have been exposed without a doubt.

After a while, the young man under the tree finally looked up, scanned left and right, chose a direction, and vanished from Mels' sight.

"Phew, he's finally gone!" As Mels raised his hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead, he realized he was drenched in cold sweat from the fright. "This won't do. I need to get into the mountains quickly." Knowing the enemy was following his trail, and that once they realized they were on the wrong track, they would surely return here, Mels had to abandon the idea of resting temporarily. He hastily re-wrapped his wound, leaped down from the tree, and dashed off in a direction different from the young man's.

Sure enough, not long after Mels left, the young man returned to the base of the large tree. After looking around, he glanced up at the tree where Mels had been hiding and muttered to himself, "What kind of magic did that kid use? Why did I lose his trail again?" Just as he was puzzled and unsure which way to pursue, he noticed a line of tree ants crawling up the tree trunk.

Hmm? A flash of inspiration struck him. The young man sprang up into the tree and, seeing a fresh patch of blood on the trunk, couldn't help but curse angrily, "Bastard! He actually dared to rest here earlier!" He now understood why he had lost Mels' trail and was certain which path Mels would take.

"The way back is the route I came from, so he can only head toward the main road; ahead, I've already gone that way, and since he can't be sure when I'll turn back, he definitely won't go there... Left leads toward where Big Brother is—even if he went there, it would be certain death; the only option left is this path leading deep into the mountains!" The young man surveyed his surroundings, sneered, and without hesitation, swiftly pursued in the direction Mels had fled.

What the young man could deduce, Mels could too. He had no other choice. Though the dense forest was large, there was no place left for him to hide. Now, he could only run, keep running, and run endlessly. A head-to-head chase—one fleeing, one pursuing—had fully unfolded in the darkness of the dense forest!

By the time Mels broke free from the dense forest, it was early morning, with the first light of dawn appearing. Bursting out of the forest and sprinting desperately toward the mountains, Mels suddenly realized that the mountainous area he had observed from afar wasn't as densely forested as he had imagined. On the contrary, between leaving the dense forest and entering the mountains, there was a considerable stretch of road with not a single tree for cover.

"Death ahead, death behind—might as well gamble on luck!" Although Mels knew the pursuing enemy wasn't far behind, he had no other options at this point. With the mindset of making one final gamble, he recklessly shot toward the open foothills. However, this time, he lost.

Less than three to five minutes after Mels left the forest, the young man from the Nine Saints burst out of the forest like lightning. Mels' figure, sprinting ahead, immediately entered his line of sight!

"Let's see where you run now!" the young man muttered to himself before flying after Mels, charging up the mountainside.

At this moment, though Mels' spirit and body were exhausted to the extreme, he dared not pause for even a second. The sound of clothing fluttering behind him clearly told him that the pursuer was within visible distance. Even if he had a thousand clever ideas, he couldn't muster a single one now. Wherever there was a path, he ran; wherever there was a rock, he circled around it. Running as far as he could was Mels' current mindset and his greatest wish. The pursuing young man, though as tired as Mels, didn't bear the burden of physical injuries, so the distance between them didn't widen but instead grew closer and closer.

No matter how high a mountain is, there comes a time to reach its peak. After nearly an hour of pursuit, Mels finally stepped onto the mountaintop. Go down the mountain! This sole concept in Mels' mind shattered when he looked around. What appeared to be a gentle slope from the front turned out to be sheer cliffs on the sides and back!

"Th... three sides are cliffs?" Mels exclaimed in shock after quickly circling the mountaintop. Raising his hand toward the sky, he said, "Heavens, why did you create a mountain like this? If you're going to mess with me, this isn't the way to do it! This could get someone killed!"

No sooner had he spoken than the young man who had been chasing him all night swiftly ascended the peak. Seeing the young man had arrived, Mels knew there was no way he could escape again. Gasping for breath, he said to the young man, "Big Brother, you've been running all night too. Aren't you tired?"

"Phew... phew... Of course I'm tired! I never expected you to be a better runner than me!" The young man, also with hands on his hips and body bent over, gasped in reply.

At this moment, neither of them had the strength to fight. After all, though the night-long chase had its ups and downs, the last few hours had been an all-out, desperate sprint. Who wouldn't be exhausted after such an intense pursuit?

"As... as a killer, chasing someone down so relentlessly really shows dedication! Hey, if you kill me, will your Tower Master give you something like a 'Best Killer Award' or something when you get back?" Mels simply sat on the ground and spoke to the young man.

Seeing Mels sit down, the young man relaxed and also sat down, saying, "What award? Being a killer is tough! Fail, and it's death; succeed, and it's just expected. Forget about awards—if I'm not punished by the Discipline Hall for incompetence, I should thank my lucky stars!"

"That bad? Then why the hell do you keep doing it? Why not change careers? With your skills, you could do anything!" Mels' tone now sounded like he was chatting with an old friend.

After hearing Mels' words, the young man gave a bitter smile and said, "You make it sound easy. Once you enter this line of work, you're a killer for life! Last night, you asked for my name, and I said there was no need to tell you. Actually, I don't even have a name. I was raised by the Tower Master. My name is simply 'Old Nine' among the Nine Saints of the Blue Tower!"

After listening to the young man, Mels fell silent for a moment before saying, "You really have it rough. Anyway, since you're here to kill me and I don't want to be killed, we're bound to fight eventually. No need to talk about all this messy stuff anymore." With that, Mels swayed as he stood up.

Seeing Mels rise, the young man also stood up and said, "Then I'll make my move! If you have the skill to kill me, I'll die without regret. But don't expect me to show any mercy!"

"Hah, enough talk. Come on!" Mels drew his longsword and raised his left hand. Without chanting any summoning incantation, a green, cat-sized humanoid slime appeared on his shoulder amid a glow from the Summoning Gem.

Seeing Mels summon his Summoned Beast without an incantation, the young man was stunned for a moment before saying, "So you're a descendant of the 'Secret Demons'—no wonder you dared to provoke our Blue Tower!" Hearing the words "Secret Demons," Mels was completely baffled. Just as he was about to inquire further, the young man had already charged forward, brandishing his longsword.

"Little One, attack!" Seeing the enemy launch an attack, Mels naturally didn't hesitate. At his command to the little green creature on his shoulder, the adorable little guy grabbed Mels' short hair with one hand to steady itself, clenched its other hand into a fist, and suddenly spat a stream of green mucus from its mouth toward the front.

Seeing the mucus approaching, the young man, unsure of its effects, first dodged to the side. As soon as the mucus hit the ground, it corroded a large hole in the earth, revealing its highly acidic nature.

"What potent venom!" The young man was inwardly alarmed and instinctively began to increase the distance between himself and Mels. At this moment, he very much wanted to summon his own Summoned Beast but was frustrated knowing Mels wouldn't give him time to chant the incantation. Thus, without a Summoned Beast to counter the enemy's, he could only choose to engage Mels in a skirmish.

Though Mels seemed to have the upper hand for now, he knew his own condition all too well. A night of desperate flight, combined with the injuries sustained from the intense battles the previous night, had left his body completely drained. A Summoned Beast is a concrete manifestation of its master's abilities. When the master is in good condition, it is the strongest ally; if the master is exhausted, the Summoned Beast cannot perform effectively. At this moment, Little One's ability to spit a stream of mucus was already its maximum display of power.

After a while of skirmishing, the young man realized that the Summoned Beast on Mels' shoulder was merely a threat with no real offensive capability. Emboldened, he made an effort to close in on Mels. Sure enough, though Little One tried hard to spit mucus, it could only put on a show.

Seeing this, the young man immediately felt relieved and began engaging Mels in close combat, brandishing his sword.

"Spit!" Mels suddenly shouted. The seemingly exhausted Little One actually obeyed his command and spat mucus once more.

"Ah!" Seeing the corrosive fluid about to hit him, the young man had no choice but to desperately dodge to the side. Although he avoided the threatening attack, he had now fallen within the range of Mels' longsword.

The longsword, trailing a silver gleam, cut through the air and descended toward the young man's head. Just then, a burst of flame shot through the air toward Mels' body.

"Ah!" Seeing the sudden flames approaching, Mels had no choice but to evade first. In that instant, five figures leaped onto the mountaintop one after another.

"Big Brother!" the young man who had just narrowly escaped the fatal blow called out.

"Heh heh, Little Nine! How did you end up in such a sorry state too?" The Second Brother of the Nine Saints leaped over to the young man and helped him up.

"Second Brother, I..." the young man said awkwardly.

"Hah... no need to explain. Big Brother won't blame you. This kid is indeed formidable—not only did he break through successfully, but he also injured Third Sister and Fourth Brother." The middle-aged man turned to Mels and said, "Kid, do you know what you did wrong today?"

Seeing that the Blue Tower assassins had arrived, a sense of despair made Mels unwilling to waste words. When Mels didn't respond, the middle-aged man's previously smiling face suddenly turned grim. He shouted sharply, "You shouldn't have injured my Third Sister and Fourth Brother!"

No sooner had he spoken than the middle-aged man suddenly moved like a ghost, gliding forward rapidly without any visible leg movement. While Mels' gaze was still fixed on the long trail of afterimages, the middle-aged man had already closed in to less than a meter in front of Mels.

With a cold snort, the middle-aged man swiftly swung his palms. In the blink of an eye, before Mels could even react, he landed fifty or sixty palm strikes, each accurately hitting Mels' chest.

Before his tidal wave of attacks, Mels was involuntarily lifted off his feet, his body floating in the air as if weightless.

“Ha!” As the middle-aged man withdrew his palms and then thrust them forward again, a burst of white energy shot from between his hands, striking Mels squarely in the chest. This time, Mels’ body didn’t just float—it was hurled backward like a stone flung with full force.

Thud! He crashed into the first tree, and the massive tree toppled, yet Mels’ body continued flying backward. Thud! He struck a second tree, the tremendous momentum still undiminished. Only after smashing through a fourth tree did Mels finally crumple to the ground like a heap of mud.

“Number Two, you struck too hard!” The gloomy leader finally spoke up. “Heh, since he’s going to die anyway, why not let me do it!” Before he could finish his words, Mels—who had seemed dead—struggled to his feet once more. Spitting out a mouthful of blood, Mels knew at least four of his ribs were broken, and his entire body burned with pain.

“Impressive! Truly impressive! It’s been years since I’ve seen anyone survive the ‘Dragon-Slaying Palm’!” The middle-aged man resumed his playful, grinning posture.

A different thought struck Mels: *To think that even among fellow assassins of the Tower, their combat power could vary so greatly. I couldn’t even block a single move from him!*

Looking at Mels, his face a mask of blood, his hair wild and ghostly, the leader stepped forward and said, “Surrender now, and I guarantee you’ll stay alive until you meet the Tower Master!”

“Surrender? Hahaha…” Mels suddenly threw his head back and laughed wildly. “Let me ask you—in a hundred years, has anyone targeted by the Tower ever kept their head?”

Hearing Mels’ question, the leader replied arrogantly, “Since the Tower’s founding, no one has ever escaped!”

“Good! Then today I’ll be the first. Remember—my name is Mels, a nameless nobody who will shatter the Tower’s century-old prestige in a single day!” From somewhere, Mels mustered a final burst of strength. He turned and staggered toward the cliff’s edge.

“Don’t be a fool, kid! Meeting the Tower Master doesn’t necessarily mean death!” The youngest member of the Nine Saints, now realizing what Mels intended, hurried forward and shouted.

“Hmph,” Mels snorted coldly. “Blue Whirlwind only dies in battle—he never surrenders!” With those words, with a light leap, he threw himself over the edge of the towering cliff, leaving behind the stunned Tower assassins.