Following Zhou Hanwen's command, the assassins of the Blood Moon Tower charged fearlessly toward the Jinyiwei soldiers, braving the storm of arrows without hesitation.
Lu Chen, watching the scene unfold, wasn't surprised in the least. When he had faced off against the deputy master of the Blood Moon Tower not long ago, the assassins under his command had done the same—rushing straight into a hail of arrows like fanatics.
Indeed, in an era untouched by the invention of gunpowder, the dominance of martial strength remained firmly rooted. But unfortunately for the Blood Moon Tower…
Lu Chen was here.
Without delay, Lu Chen distributed grenades to the nearby Jinyiwei. Back when he had wiped out the previous group of Blood Moon assassins, he had only used a dozen or so grenades—he still had plenty left in reserve.
"Throw them just like I do," Lu Chen instructed the soldiers calmly.
He then pulled out the pin of a grenade, held it briefly in his hand, and hurled it with precision toward the center of the enemy formation—right in the direction of Zhou Hanwen.
Thanks to his system, Lu Chen could identify individuals on sight. The man clad in white was unmistakably Zhou Hanwen, the master of the Blood Moon Tower. And now that Lu Chen had advanced to the ninth-rank, his physical prowess allowed him to lob the grenade effortlessly over Zhou Hanwen's head.
Zhou Hanwen's instincts flared. His eyes locked onto the round object hurtling through the air. Though he had never seen anything like it, an overwhelming sense of danger seized his heart.
It resembled a stone, but Zhou Hanwen immediately dismissed that idea. The Northern Palace couldn't possibly have run out of arrows and resorted to flinging rocks—no, this was clearly some kind of special weapon.
With a quick step back, Zhou Hanwen narrowly avoided the device. Unfortunately, the warriors surrounding him weren't nearly as reactive.
BOOOOM!
The grenade detonated midair with a deafening blast. Shrapnel exploded outward in all directions, whistling like banshees. Several ninth-rank warriors were struck directly—their heads pierced by razor-sharp fragments.
While arrows could be seen, tracked, and sometimes even caught or deflected by skilled warriors, these fragments moved too fast and too unpredictably. Against such a weapon, dodging was the only hope—and even that was a luxury.
Zhou Hanwen's expression darkened at once.
He had suspected the palace was hiding some sort of secret weapon, but he hadn't imagined it would be this devastating. One grenade—and several of his ninth-rank subordinates were already corpses.
Originally, Zhou Hanwen had believed that the Northern King was being protected by some elusive expert, a mysterious master who had foiled several assassination attempts from the Blood Moon Tower. But now… it seemed he had gravely underestimated his enemy.
Even if there had never been such a hidden master, even if the Northern Palace had no martial experts at all, with just this weapon, assassins like his would still be helpless.
The so-called "waste" of the Northern Palace... it was all a lie.
The King of the North had fooled the entire world!
To possess such terrifying firepower and keep it a complete secret from every spy and informant in the martial world—this wasn't a man to be trifled with. This was someone plotting something in the dark, biding his time behind closed gates.
But Zhou Hanwen didn't care about all that anymore.
What mattered now was: how the hell was he going to kill the Northern King in this situation?
Perhaps because Zhou Hanwen had personally taken the field, the Blood Moon assassins didn't break formation after the first grenade. Even after several comrades were shredded into pieces, the remaining killers remained cold and composed.
That, in itself, surprised Lu Chen.
But he wasn't about to give them time to regroup. Without waiting a heartbeat, Lu Chen hurled another grenade, and the Jinyiwei—now familiar with the rhythm—followed suit, throwing theirs in synchronized arcs.
BOOOM! BOOOM! BOOOOM!
A dozen or more grenades exploded above the Blood Moon assassins, tearing through flesh and bone with terrifying precision.
Most never even glimpsed the King of the North before being turned to mist. Blood sprayed across the courtyard. Limbs flew. Screams echoed. Only a few assassins were left standing amidst the carnage.
Zhou Hanwen panicked.
He had brought with him the elite core of the Blood Moon Tower—assassins who could end the life of a prince in another nation without so much as a whisper. And yet here, without even seeing their target, they were being slaughtered.
The weapons of the Northern Palace... were far too terrifying.
No! He had to escape!
There had to be a reason why news of this deadly weapon had never reached the martial world. The only explanation was that everyone who'd seen it had been killed. Otherwise, a weapon like this would have shaken the entire world by now.
This wasn't just some palace trinket. This was a weapon that could rewrite the hierarchy of the martial arts world.
If word spread that the Northern Palace wielded such power, the entire balance of the martial world would shift. Martial supremacy, centuries of tradition, could collapse overnight.
Zhou Hanwen clenched his teeth. He might have failed to kill the Northern King, but if he could escape and spread the truth… martial experts from all over the world would come flooding in to eliminate this hidden threat.
The King of the North wouldn't survive the backlash.
He turned to flee.
But the moment he spun around, his pupils shrank in disbelief.
Leaning against the palace gate was a man in crimson robes, a long blade hanging lazily at his waist. His presence radiated killing intent, calm yet suffocating.
Qin Yushan.
Another Grandmaster.
And this one was no ordinary Grandmaster.
Zhou Hanwen had seen him once before—from afar. Years ago, when the martial world trembled at the name of the Blood Demon Mad Saber. Back then, there had been no Blood Moon Tower, no Zhou Hanwen to speak of—only legends about the man who carved a path through sects like a whirlwind of death.
Zhou Hanwen never imagined he would see him again.
Here, of all places.
Here… as a subordinate of the Northern King.
What kind of man was the Northern King, that he could recruit someone like this?
Qin Yushan smiled faintly and spoke, "The infamous Fatal Scholar Zhou Hanwen… I've long wanted to see your Iron Fan for myself. It seems I've gotten my wish today."
Zhou Hanwen snapped back to reality.
Now was not the time to be stunned. With a weapon like that in the palace—and now this man blocking his escape—it was clear that the Northern King would never allow him to leave alive.
If he wanted to survive, he'd have to go through Qin Yushan first.
With a flick of his wrist, Zhou Hanwen opened his fan with a sharp whoosh and said coldly, "Then I must ask for your guidance, Senior!"
With a sudden sweep, more than a dozen razor-sharp needles shot out from the folds of the fan, aimed directly at Qin Yushan's vitals.
But Qin Yushan was faster. Effortlessly weaving past the needles, he closed the distance in a blink—his figure exploding forward like a cannonball.
The best way to counter a hidden weapon user like Zhou Hanwen was to close in. Give them no space. No time.
But Zhou Hanwen wasn't defenseless at close range.
With a twist of his wrist, the fan snapped shut—and in the next moment, a narrow blade extended from its edge.
The iron fan had become a sword.
Steel met steel as their weapons clashed. Sparks exploded into the air with each impact. Their protective qi burst forth in all directions, shaking the tiles beneath them and cracking the floor.
Two Grandmasters. One deadly dance to death.
The air around them trembled as their battle truly began.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
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