I'm The Only Necromancer In This Cultivation World-Chapter 42: First Costumer (part 2)

With a low, grinding murmur, a section of the wall slid inward, opening like a hidden door.

Warm lantern light spilled out from within, cutting through the shadows of the alley.

The woman froze for a heartbeat.

Her pulse quickened.

"So it’s true..." she whispered.

She hesitated only a moment before stepping forward, her boots crossing the threshold as the secret entrance welcomed her inside.

Inside the hidden passage, soft lantern light illuminated a narrow corridor of stone. The air was cool and carried a faint scent of incense, masking whatever smells might have lingered from the building above.

A man was already waiting, it’s Harlan.

He stood near the entrance, dressed in a dark robe that concealed his body completely. A plain mask covered his face, leaving no hint of expression behind it. His posture was straight, calm, and disciplined, nothing like a common thug or guard.

The woman paused for a moment, studying him.

So secretive... she thought.

Yet she didn’t find it strange.

In this world, assassination halls weren’t frowned upon. Strength decided everything. As long as a hall had the power to back its work and the courage to face retaliation, it could operate openly, sometimes even more openly than righteous sects.

The masked man inclined his head slightly.

"This way," he said, his voice steady.

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked deeper into the passage. His footsteps were quiet, measured, as if he had memorized every inch of the path.

The woman followed.

They passed through twisting corridors and hidden doors, each one reinforcing the same thought in her mind, this place was built with care. Whoever owned this hall, they were cautious.

After a short walk, they reached a larger chamber.

Lanterns hung from the walls, their light revealing a clean, orderly room. At its center stood another figure, seated calmly as if he had been waiting all along.

The masked guide stepped aside.

"The Hall Master will see you now."

The woman lifted her gaze toward the man ahead.

At last, she was face to face with the one called, Ashen.

Aiden slowly rose from his seat. The dim lantern light cast long shadows across the chamber, making his masked face impossible to read.

"Welcome to the Bone Contract Hall," he said calmly.

The woman didn’t hesitate. Her fingers tightened around the edge of her cloak, but her voice remained steady.

She said. "I want my husband dead."

There was no shock in Aiden’s eyes, only quiet appraisal. He gestured for her to sit, then asked evenly, "Is your husband a practitioner?"

"Yes," the woman replied. "He is."

Aiden nodded once. Practitioners were never simple targets. Even the weakest of them were far deadlier than ordinary men. Still, his tone didn’t change.

"And the payment?"

The woman reached into her sleeve and placed a small pouch on the table. It wasn’t opened, but the faint clink inside was unmistakable.

"Here," she said, meeting his gaze, "It’s three hundred gold coins."

For the first time, a hint of interest crossed Aiden’s posture. Three hundred gold coins was no small amount.

"Very well," he said after a brief pause. "Then you only need to wait for good news."

The woman exhaled quietly, as if she had been holding her breath since entering the hall. She stood, gave a short bow, and turned to leave.

As she disappeared back into the hidden corridor, Aiden remained where he was, the lantern light flickering across his mask.

Another contract had been sealed.

The door slid open, and the three brothers stepped into the room one after another. Their excitement was obvious, wide grins, restless movements, eyes shining like they’d just witnessed something unbelievable.

Reth was the first to speak, unable to hold it in any longer.

"Boss, congratulations!" he said, his voice filled with excitement. "We just opened, and we already landed a client!"

Harlan chuckled as he crossed his arms, clearly proud, shaking his head in disbelief. "I still can’t believe it. Other assassination halls struggle for months before they even get noticed."

Kain let out a low whistle. "And she came because of reputation alone. Word really spreads fast in this city."

Aiden remained seated, his posture calm and composed, as if this were all expected. He didn’t smile, but the faint curve of his lips betrayed his satisfaction.

"This is only the beginning," he said evenly. "Once one contract is completed cleanly, more will follow. In this line of work, results speak louder than names."

The brothers straightened instinctively at his words. The excitement on their faces slowly settled into something more solid, confidence.

Reth nodded firmly. "Don’t worry, boss. We’ll make sure everything runs smoothly."

Harlan grinned. "Bone Contract Hall won’t stay small for long."

In the dim chamber, with the lantern casting sharp shadows on the walls, the foundation of something dangerous, and powerful, quietly took shape.

----

The street outside the brothel glowed with warm lantern light, silk curtains swaying gently in the night breeze. Laughter drifted into the air, mixed with the faint sound of music and clinking cups. This was not some shabby back-alley den, it was Moonveil Pavilion, the most famous brothel in the district, a place only the wealthy and powerful could afford to frequent.

The man arrived on horseback, his posture straight, his presence heavy with authority. His clothes were simple but finely made, and the subtle bulge of muscle beneath the fabric marked him as a Body Tempering practitioner. More than that, he was the head chief of the city guard, a man whose name alone could make common folk bow their heads.

The women at the entrance noticed him immediately.

Several of them approached with practiced smiles, their voices soft and inviting.

"Lord Vayne, welcome back."

"Would you care for some company tonight?"

He waved them away without even looking at their faces.

"I already have someone in mind," he said flatly.

Without slowing his steps, he passed through the main hall, where merchants, officials, and minor sect members lounged in pairs and groups, drinking and laughing. The music grew softer as he climbed the stairs, heading straight for the private rooms on the upper floor.