Chapter 117: Assaisnated

A few days passed.

Despite the boiling tension underneath the surface, no major changes occurred within Mirravele City.

The fragile standoff maintained by City Lord Cassian held the warring factions by the throat.

But as the time for the Stormveil Academy’s arrival drew closer, the atmosphere in the city grew heavier by the minute.

It felt like a tightly pulled bowstring.

Everyone in the commercial districts walked on eggshells, for absolutely no one knew when the string would finally snap and the great war would break out.

On this very day, sitting leisurely in the Moon Courtyard of the Silvercrest estate, Rhain felt a sudden vibration from his spatial ring.

Buzz!

He flipped his palm, retrieving the communication token Declan had given him.

’City Lord Cassian has dispatched three Core Formation Realm experts from the Pavilion. They have just left Mirravele City to escort the monthly tribute of Aetherium Crystals and resources to the Inner Province’s Royal Court. City Lord’s forces are temporarily weakened.’

Rhain’s dark grey eyes flashed with a chilling light.

He had been waiting for this exact day.

With a chunk of Cassian’s military strength temporarily out of the city, City Lord would be powerless to suppress the catastrophic chaos that was about to unfold.

Rhain immediately crushed a secondary transmission talisman, sending a brief, encrypted message to Aldric.

Without notifying Seris or Liana, Rhain stepped out of his courtyard and casually strolled out of the heavily guarded gates of the Silvercrest estate.

The moment he stepped onto the main street, many pairs of eyes instantly locked onto his back.

The assassins from the Ashvele Clan.

This time, it wasn’t just the two Spirit Manifestation experts from before. Alongside the Level 7 and Level 8, there was a heavy, oppressive presence leading them.

Level 9 Spirit Manifestation Realm expert, Tormund.

And three more Spirit Manifestation Realm experts.

Rhain’s awakened Spiritual Sense swept over them effortlessly, but his expression didn’t ripple in the slightest.

He casually made his way toward the outskirts of Mirravele City, heading directly toward a secluded, abandoned area miles away from the bustling commercial districts.

Trailing behind him, the three Ashvele assassins were ecstatic.

"Is he an idiot?" the Level 7 expert whispered, his face twisting into a cruel sneer. "He is actually leaving the protective boundaries of the city?"

"Hahaha! God is truly helping our Ashvele Clan!" the Level 8 man chuckled darkly. "If he had remained holed up inside the Silvercrest estate or the crowded streets, we would never have found a chance to strike without drawing the City Lord’s guards. But out there? In a secluded area?"

"No one will be able to save him," Tormun added coldly.

They eagerly followed his trail, entirely convinced that today was the day Rhain would die.

______________

A few miles outside the city, stood a dilapidated stone pavilion.

Rhain calmly stepped through the doors.

The moment he crossed the threshold, his youthful features shifted seamlessly under the Faceless Emperor Mask, returning to the dignified, middle-aged visage of the Grandmaster Alchemist.

Inside the dimly lit pavilion, eight figures sat silently in the shadows.

Aldric and the seven hired Core Formation experts.

Per Rhain’s strict instructions, all of them had completely restrained their immense auras and hidden their faces beneath heavy cloaks.

Seeing Rhain enter, they all stood up respectfully.

"Master," Aldric bowed. "We have gathered as you commanded. But why did you ask us to come to such a secluded place, and hide our identities?"

Rhain walked up to them and let out a troubled sigh.

"I asked you here because I had a sudden premonition," Rhain spoke, his disguised voice carrying a trace of solemnity. "I have a feeling that someone is trying to kill me."

The eight experts froze.

"Kill you?" Vulcan blurted out, his massive fists clenching instantly.

The others were equally shocked.

Who in the world could possibly be foolish enough to assassinate a Grandmaster Rank Alchemist?

It was an act of pure suicide!

Offending a Grandmaster was akin to courting the wrath of the Gods themselves!

Crash!

As if to answer their question, the heavy wooden doors of the pavilion were kicked open with loud force.

"You dared to harm our Ashvele Clan! No one can save you now!" a grating voice roared through the dust.

Another assassin stepped in, his weapon drawn and glinting with lethal essence. "Kynlee has ordered us not to kill him easily! Cut him into pieces!"

The six Ashvele assassins charged in with bloodthirsty grins.

But their smiles immediately froze.

They were stunned to see nine people standing quietly inside the room.

They couldn’t sense a single drop of aura from any of the hooded figures, entirely unable to grasp what these people were doing in an abandoned pavilion.

"What the hell is this?’ Tormund frowned, a brief flash of unease crossing his mind.

But fueled by arrogance, he quickly dismissed it.

"Kill all of them!" he shouted, pointing his blade. "Don’t let anyone escape!"

That was the last sentence he would ever speak with confidence.

Before the assassins could even take another step...

Swoosh!

Vulcan moved.

In the blink of an eye, the massive giant vanished from his spot.

SQUELCH! CRACK!

The Level 7 and Level 8 experts didn’t even have time to scream.

They were literally torn apart in a spray of blood, their bodies reduced to mangled meat instantly.

The other three Spirit Manifestation Realm were also dead before they could even let out a scream.

Guh!"

Tormund didn’t even see Vulcan move.

He suddenly found his feet dangling in the air, his throat caught in an iron grip that threatened to crush his windpipe.

Vulcan lifted the terrified man off the ground, his eyes burning with uncontrolled rage.

"Why do you want to kill my Master?" Vulcan asked furiously.

Aldric pulled down the heavy hood concealing his face, his features twisting with volcanic fury.

"These people are from the Ashvele Clan!" Aldric shouted. "How dare they attack my Master?"

Rhain turned his head slowly, looking at the suffocating Tormund with an expression of profound wonder and disappointment.

"So... they are from the Ashvele Clan."

Rhain sighed dejectedly, turning to Vulcan and the other experts.

"A few days ago, their alchemist insulted me in the guild. For that disrespect, I asked Aldric to expel their clan from the Alchemy Guild."

Aldric immediately nodded. "But Master had already forgiven them for that matter! You even accepted their apology and magnanimously promised to help them alleviate their clan! Why do they still attack you?"

"It must be a facade," Rhain said, his voice laced with the sorrow of a betrayed saint. "Kynlee feigned to conciliate the conflict and offered tribute, all so that when he kills me in secret, no one will suspect the Ashvele Clan. In reality... they always wanted to kill me."

The eight experts were filled with boiling anger.

Aldric cursed the Ashvele Clan loudly, not caring about his Master Rank Alchemist’s image.

Meanwhile, Tormund dangling from Vulcan’s grip stared at Rhain.

His eyes stretched so wide they looked as if they might pop entirely out of his sockets.

He recognized those dark robes!

The clothes hadn’t changed, but the person wearing them had changed entirely!

How could that be?

And why is master Aldric here? Who are these people?

It’s a trap!

He frantically opened his mouth, desperate to scream, to say anything

"G-Ghk—!"

But Vulcan’s massive hand grabbed his throat so tightly that his vocal cords were completely crushed.

Not a single syllable could escape.

Rhain looked at him, his dark grey eyes carrying a chilling mockery beneath his benevolent facade.

He approached the struggling Tormund.

"I decided to give your clan a chance," Rhain said, his voice growing angrier as he spoke, perfectly playing the role of a wronged savior. "But I hadn’t known the Ashvele Clan would be a pack of white-eyed wolves. I offered you salvation, and you decided to kill me."

Rhain raised his hand.

Smack!

With a swift, seemingly frustrated slap, Rhain palm slapped Tormund’s head.

A surge of dark essence bypassed the skull and instantly obliterated Tormund’s brain.

Tormund’s eyes closed, taking the secret of Rhain’s disguise to the grave.

Vulcan tossed the lifeless corpse aside like a sack of garbage.

Not a single person in the room felt an ounce of pity.

They didn’t know the intricate politics of the Ashvele Clan, but they all hated the Ashvele Clan to the bone.

First, they dared to humiliate a Grandmaster Alchemist.

Nine lives might not have been enough to wash away such a blasphemous sin!

And yet, their benevolent, saintly Master had magnanimously forgiven them!

He had even promised to help them!

And how did they repay this divine grace?

They sent assassins to cut him into pieces!

How could a clan be so inherently evil?

"White-eyed wolves indeed!" Vulcan roared, his killing intent surging wildly. "Master, say the word! I will march into their estate right now and rip their Patriarch’s head from his shoulders!"

Aldric stepped forward, his eyes burning with vengeance.

"Master," Aldric bowed deeply. "When I watched the Ashvele Clan’s initial fall, I felt a trace of pity for them. But now? I think they absolutely deserve it! Such an evil, treacherous clan shall be destroyed!"

Aldric looked up, his expression resolute.

"Please, Master, give us your permission! Let us avenge this unforgivable slight!"

Rhain stood quietly for a moment, looking down at the bloody corpses on the floor.

He let out a long, weary sigh, perfectly embodying the image of a merciful sage pushed past his limits.

"I do not like blood," Rhain murmured softly, shaking his head. "I truly wanted to help them. And in return... they tried to backstab me. Ashvele Clan is simply abominable!"

Rhain slowly lifted his dark grey eyes.

"Such an evil clan must not exist to cause harm in the world!"

Rhain looked at the eight Core Formation experts, his voice carrying the finality of a death toll.

"Exterminate them."