Heaven's Silence

Chapter 73 – Without blame

As the cold moon was engulfed by murderous intent, A Shui heard the countless sounds of swords being drawn.

Clearly, the seemingly ordinary strike just now had made these people realize that the woman holding the hatchet in front of them was not easy to deal with.

The assassins' goal was to kill. Whether it was a one-on-one fight or a group assault was not within their consideration.

As long as they could kill the target, that was enough.

Someone's sword was the fastest, piercing through the falling crystalline snowflakes, and in that shattered beauty, it clashed with A Shui's hatchet!

Clang!

This person was actually a master hidden among the crowd. In the Martial World, the difficulty of one-on-one and one-on-many duels was incomparable. He was extremely confident in his swordsmanship, intending to use the other assassins' attacks as cover to take A Shui's life with one strike!

But he clearly underestimated A Shui's well-honed instincts.

At the moment the blades met, he saw his reflection on A Shui's polished blade, saw the spray of blood as his throat was cut open.

But... how was this possible?

At the instant the blades met, his sword momentum was exhausted. This supposedly deadly sword should have extinguished the momentum of A Shui's blade in her hand. How could she launch a second strike while blocking his sword?

Find the original at bit.ly/3iBfjkV.

He never figured it out until his death.

In fact, that strike just now wasn't A Shui blocking his sword, but rather him failing to block A Shui's blade.

He thought he was the one attacking, not realizing that A Shui wasn't defending at all, just using a stronger, faster strike to reverse the roles of attack and defense.

Amidst the encirclement and slaughter of the surrounding assassins, A Shui's movements were not particularly agile, perhaps due to the limp on her right side, or perhaps due to her injuries... but that didn't matter.

What mattered was the hatchet in her hand, too sharp, too terrifying. Every strike was devoid of any flourish, precisely the one most suited for killing among a thousand blades.

This kind of swordsmanship had no set moves, only the cold of snow and moon, the chill of blood and life.

Even many seasoned assassins who had roamed the Martial World for years were shocked, their backs chilled.

They observed A Shui's strikes, rehearsing defenses or evasions in their minds several times, but when faced with the actual strike, everything in their minds turned to blankness and void.

As these assassins struggled to inflict some shallow wounds on A Shui, the courtyard was already littered with corpses.

Each of these corpses had only one wound.

To kill them, A Shui didn't need a second strike.

The fierce battle momentarily paused as the assassins were intimidated. A Shui, holding her blade, was slightly out of breath, white mist continuously exhaling from her mouth and nose.

Her old injuries began to flare up under the intense impact of her dantian's power. The pain from her internal organs assaulted her nerves. Although A Shui's expression showed no sign of discomfort, the throbbing veins at her temples indicated she was not as well as she appeared.

Ignoring the assassins standing on the courtyard walls or at the edges, A Shui limped to the stone table, picked up the jar of wine with one hand, and drank deeply.

The Baodaozi, imbued with killing intent, poured into her stomach, the burning and stinging sensations numbing her old wounds, granting her a rare moment of respite amidst the intense pain.

An elderly, gray-haired masked assassin stood on a tree extending from the corner of the courtyard wall, quietly watching A Shui drink.

Behind him were two swords, one with a slender blade wrapped in a tattered scabbard and some rags, unremarkable, and the other with a thick and wide blade, more like a club than a sword.

This man had been standing on the tree branch from the beginning, neither making a move nor speaking, coldly observing everything like an indifferent bystander.

A Shui's drinking spot was close to him, but he still chose silence.

As A Shui drank, some assassins adjusted their mindset and tactics, slowly closing in, eager to try.

Suddenly, the dual-sword assassin on the tree jumped down.

Seeing him enter the battlefield, the approaching assassins immediately scattered to the sides.

"Let me introduce myself, I'm 'Wu Jiu', ranked seventh in the Lin Banner of Wangchuan, with a bit of a reputation in the Martial World. You might have heard of me."

"I'm not like the others. I'm not here for the hundred thousand taels of gold, but for a chance to enter the Feng Banner."

A Shui ignored him, continuing to drink.

After Wu Jiu introduced himself, he didn't attack A Shui but turned to look at the room where Wen Chaoshen was.

"There's someone inside. I heard his heartbeat. Is he your friend?" Wu Jiu asked.

A Shui stopped drinking at his words, slowly putting down the wine jar.

"Not really."

"I'm ready. Are you going to fight or not? If not, get lost."

Wu Jiu slowly drew the slender sword from his back, twirling it into a beautiful sword flower, holding it in his hand.

"I want to see if you lied to me."

Faced with Wu Jiu's words, A Shui frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Wu Jiu laughed, his calm words overflowing with terrifying madness.

"In a moment, this sword will fly from my hand into the room. If your blade is fast enough, you can kill me before I release the sword."

"But if you can't, the person in the room will die."

"I may not be able to beat you, but before I die, I have to drag someone down with me."

As soon as she finished speaking, A Shui raised her hand to strike.

But this time, Wu Jiu seemed to match her speed.

The long sword in his hand turned into a stream of light, shooting towards the room where Wen Chaoshen was!

A Shui frowned, stepping across, and the hatchet in her hand flew out.

Her strike was indeed stronger and faster than Wu Jiu's sword, arriving later but hitting first, knocking down the long sword at the door, the remaining force carrying it into the room.

At this moment, Wu Jiu drew the second sword from his back.

A sword without a blade.

This sword was even faster than the previous one.

A Shui's well-honed instincts reacted to the scent of danger, but the old injuries she forcibly suppressed suddenly erupted, slowing her evasion by a fraction.

Thus, Wu Jiu's bladeless sword successfully struck A Shui's waist.

A seemingly light touch, yet it carried immense force, even creating transparent ripples in the air.

A Shui's body flew out like a kite with a broken string, crashing heavily onto the stone steps in front of Wen Chaoshen's room.

"Cough..."

From her mouth and nose, a mixture of strong liquor and fresh blood gushed out, staining her chest red.

After this strike, though she wasn't dead, her lower body had completely lost sensation, her internal organs severely damaged, her consciousness muddled, clearly a lamb awaiting slaughter.

"So, in the Martial World, you can't afford even a hint of arrogance."

"You thought you could protect everyone, but in the end, you can't protect anyone."

Wu Jiu, holding the bladeless sword, walked step by step towards the severely injured A Shui.

"But with your old injuries flaring up this severely, even with a blade, you can't beat me."

"Even if you retreat ten thousand steps today, you still have to die."

A Shui's vision was full of double images, her ears ringing, unable to hear what he was saying, fresh blood continuously oozing from her mouth and nose.

"Your life, I'll take it."

Without any hesitation, Wu Jiu walked up to A Shui, raising his hand to point the tip of the bladeless sword at A Shui's heart.