Furen saw the great sword fall and cried out with all his might for his life, then he closed his eyes. After a moment, he opened them again and saw the great sword stopped just inches from him. He composed himself.
The man in black, shorter in stature, stepped forward in front of the half-armored warrior, who stopped and gestured to him. The warrior drew his greatsword and said with a mocking smile, "Hey, kid, you got anything else to say? Want to cough up some cash to buy your life?"
Furen sighed, sat up straight, and asked, "If I take out the money, will you let me go?"
This time, the assassin replied bluntly: "Unfortunately, no. We must complete our mission and take your money. Even if you don't escape the death order, you'll die more easily... or let's say you won't need to have your arms and legs cut off."
Furen pointed at him with his left finger and roared, "Well... I refuse!"
The assassin's lips twitched twice, and although he didn't reveal his true face, his voice seemed to express a genuine laugh: "Haha, good, you've got guts. Nika, don't move, let me take care of it."
With that, the warrior named Nika stepped aside, silently observing the assassin's actions, thus blocking all of Furen's escape routes.
The assassin let out a sinister laugh: "Good, kid. This is the path you've chosen, so own it. I'm going to cut off your fingers one by one. To be honest, this is the first time I've ever played around with this kind of torture. You're lucky. First... it'll be your heart."
He had barely finished speaking when he lunged at Furen like a dark shadow. But Furen, already on his guard, suddenly raised a piece of paper with both hands and placed it precisely in the path of the dagger.
This seemingly ordinary sheet of paper blocked the assassin's attack with the full force of the weapon. Furen didn't even feel the slightest transmission of power from the blade.
As the assassin stood stunned and the warrior prepared to lunge forward with all his might, Furen vanished instantly, leaving behind only a single phrase that echoed at the entrance to the alley: "Thirty years..."
"Thirty years? What does that mean?" The assassin paused, seeing Furen disappear, then stopped again upon hearing the sentence, turning to Nika.
Nika's voice also betrayed a clear doubt: "Perhaps it refers to his last name? Or does it mean he'll return for revenge thirty years later? Such a belated revenge?"
In the alley, only the two bewildered mercenaries remained, looking at each other in disbelief.
Meanwhile, Furen teleported to his office. There was no portal, no trace of the spirit world; in a very short, almost imperceptible time, Furen was back home.
He touched his body, still aching with sharp pain, and forced himself to stand to check for other injuries. But looking at the time—it was about nine o'clock—he realized that the maid might have just left, or might not have left yet. So he dragged his injured body to the office door and locked it.
After undressing, Furen looked at himself from left to right before letting out a sigh of relief. He only had a few superficial scratches. A little rubbing alcohol would suffice. Besides, all the injuries were under his clothes and wouldn't have a major impact on his daily life.
He sighed deeply, gazed at the red moon outside the window, and felt a brief pang of regret at having received such a brutal beating for trying to show off. But thinking about it now, given the cruelty of those two men, even if he hadn't acted tough, he still would have been beaten, and they probably would have tracked him down to his home.
Although he was defeated, at least he hadn't revealed his address. He only had to give it to Quevedo and the others, and those greedy mercenaries wouldn't come looking for him.
What annoyed Furen most was that his final threat was only "thirty years." Sigh. Chinese threats always seem a bit long, Furen thought, rubbing his hair in annoyance.
In the silence, he vaguely heard the front door of the villa close. He then understood that his precautions had been necessary: if the maid had seen that he was wounded, these greedy mercenaries would undoubtedly have discovered his address.
Furen no longer dared to underestimate these mercenaries; after all, they possessed extraordinary strength, even if they were only from Sequence 9 or Sequence 8.
Furen blew into his palms, rubbed his face vigorously, then stood up abruptly. He first had to write to Quevedo to tell him not to come to his house under any circumstances, at least for six months. Otherwise, the risk of being discovered remained too high.
As for what would happen in six months, Furen chuckled inwardly. By then, he would already be in Sequence 7. If he didn't get his revenge, he would become a laughingstock. When the time came, even the outer gods would fall victim to it.
Until then, Furen had taken this world somewhat lightly. After all, the path ahead of him was far more favorable than that of others. And a fallen family like the Abraham family, stumbling upon a transmigrant like himself, was clearly destined for rebirth.
On reflection, in that era, there was simply no one whose past was a better fit for the role of protagonist than his.
"What a shame," Furen murmured, touching his wounds. That beating had certainly woken him up. The so-called "arrogant dragons" were nothing compared to the art of stealthy survival. Hiding and staying cautious—that was the true theme of this world.
In the glow of the red moon, Furen lit the candles in the study and took out a sheet of paper. Even without buying any, it could easily be found in any office: in those days, the transmission of information relied primarily on letters.
He took a steel pen, opened the ink bottle, dipped the nib in twice, and wiped it on the rim of the bottle. He was about to hold the cap between his teeth to think about the contents of the letter, but fearing he would get ink on himself, he simply placed the pen in the bottle.
Instinctively, he reached for his glasses… before realizing he wasn't wearing any. After a brief moment of hesitation, he rubbed his hair and wrote directly: "…I am currently going through a difficult time and I apologize for not being able to reciprocate your kindness. I must be away for a few months to temporarily distract the wolves prowling in the shadows. Therefore, please understand my situation and it is best not to write to me…"
Once the letter was finished and left to dry for a while, Furen slipped it into a lightly scented envelope. After melting the wax in the candle flame, he remained silent for a moment, took out a seal engraved with the Abraham family emblem, and affixed it.
Shortly afterwards, Furen examined his work and nodded his head in satisfaction, murmuring to himself, "Top-notch."
(End of chapter)