CHAPTER 1 — "THE ASSASSIN WHO DEFIED DEATH"
Night was bloody into the devastated neighborhood, smoke was spilling through the streets like webs. The earth shook from the far-off explosions, though the battle-scarred lands lay in an unearthly silence.
Silent— except for the sound of the footsteps.
Long Hao ran barefoot over the rubble-scarred concrete, sending clouds of dust swirling in all directions as he darted into the openness of the ground. His breathing was even, despite the cut on his ribcage, and the moonlight glinted off the sharp outline of his figure—lean, muscular, and deadly.
His jet black hair streamed behind him, mussy yet perfect against his pale skin. He had an angular face with a sharp jawline, straight nose, and eyes dark enough to appear black until the glow of his inner crimson was reflected in the light.
Eyes like a dragon opening his eyelid.
Long Hao was running across the irregular terrain, his breathing was regular despite the agonizing pain through his chest. His black combat jacket, pristine at first, was now in strips. A line of blood was trailing down his jawline, but his gaze was clear with a cold and sharp focus.
Shadows flitted from roof to roof.
Metallic glints flashed in the moonlight.
Assassins—over twenty—were closing in on
"Target confirmed," hissed a voice out of the darkness. "Do not allow him to escape."
"Escape? From clowns like you? I'm not going to—" Long Hao sneered.
Three assassins charged at the same time, their blades glinting. Long Hao's body spun, turning with calculated precision as he delivered an elbow smash to the throat of the first.
Wet crunch.
The man collapsed.
"The second assassin's dagger sliced toward his back—Long Hao spun, catching the wrist mid-air. Snap. Scream."
Before the third attacker could even react, a foot smashed into his breastbone, flinging him out of the way.
But slaying these three was inconsequential. More silhouettes appeared. More killing intent swirled like a churning storm.
Long Hao removed the blood from his cheek with the back of his hand.
"Twenty-five assassins for one man." He laughed bitterly. "The Shadow Hall really wants me dead."
A cold voice called from above, "Shadow King Long Hao. You've killed too many of our elites. Tonight, you go back to the darkness."
Long Hao's expression remained unchanged.
I completely forgot. He just dropped into stance.
"Come try."
The night erupted.
Assassins fell like arrows, their swords forming circles of silver death. But Long Hao moved like a ghost, weaving through the attackers with the precision of a demon.
Throat slashed open.
Heart impaled.
Knee broken.
Dagger swiveled into own head.
Corpses were littered all around him, staining the earth red.
Long Hao's body contorted in surreal precision. His hand jerked up—grasping one attacker's wrist in mid-air. He pulled hard.
Click.
The assassin crumpled silently.
Another attacker came low; Long Hao sidestepped, his foot crashing into the other man's knee. Crunch. A scream ripped out of the other man's throat.
Then another, this one never reached him. A flick of Long Hao's finger sent a concealed dagger slashing through the air—embedding itself in the man's forehead.
He did not pause.
He didn't waste breath.
He just kept on moving, like killing assassins was easy as drinking milk for him.
However, more shadows appeared.
There was even more killing intent.
The black combat coat was torn open across his chest, and the faint diagonal scar that crossed his ribs was visible—a souvenir from battles that he had long finished fighting.
"Long Hao!" snarled the masked assassin. "You killed nine of our elites. Tonight, you die!"
Long Hao wiped the blood from his mouth. Red stained the corner of his lips.
"You idiots have been trying to kill me for years," he muttered. "Shouldn't you be used to disappointment by now?"
They charged.
The night descended into violence.
Steel met steel as Long Hao danced like a ghost. His motions blurred from one attack to the next—his lean muscles rippling in the lunar glow, explosive in their precision. He struck with the savagery of intent, the aim of each blow to kill.
A throat crushed.
A dagger thrown back into the owner's heart.
A shadow stepped behind him—he spun, his elbow striking the man in the face. Bone shattered.
Bodies start falling to earth in quick succession.
But Long Hao bled as well.
A slice across his belly.A dagger plunged into his shoulder.
His breathing quickened-instead now: deliberate, but strained.
Nevertheless…his eyes were sharp.
However…he fought like a beast that had been cornered but not broken.
This was Long Hao, the assassin whose very name was whispered with fear in the darkest corners of the guilds, a man feared for his unflappable silence, his skill, and his mortally chilling crimson glare that could stop his foes in their tracks before his first blow was landed.
Now, however,
He was alone among too many.
And even dragons bleed.
Another wave came. Long Hao slew them, but every time, the steps grew slower, the vision more cloudy. By the time he finally backed away, only six assassins were left upright.
There were nineteen bodies scattered around him.
Their blood, the blood of the captives,
The leader of the assassins moved forward, his mask glinting in the light of the moon. "Even in death, you are simply a monster."
Long Hao took a breath, his heart still strong but faltering. His jet-black hair was swinging around his face, drips of sweat and blood slipping down the sharp line of his jaw. His red-tinged eyes shone with an intense, unnatural brightness.
'Monster?' he echoed sarcastically. 'If this is how you think of it as a monster, then the heavens above really underestimated me.'
A blade pierced his abdomen from behind.
Long Hao remained unaffected.
He only lowered his eyes, and then his chin rose in defiance.
The masked assassin sneered. 'Any last words, Shadow King?'
Long Hao spat out blood at the man's feet.
"Tell the heavens…" he coughed, the world tilting around him. "…Long Hao never kneels
Five blades at once.
But he used his last bit of strength and bit the leader on his neck and killed him.
He laughed. "You should have expected at least that much."
His body gave way.
The darkness engulfed the earth.
A heartbeat.
Then another.
Long Hao's eyes opened abruptly.
He lay on a narrow bed in a small, darkened room. He felt different; he felt light, young. He wore clean clothes. He had no wounds.
He looked at his hands.
No scars. No blood. No dagger calluses.
In the reflection of the window appeared the 17-year-old version of himself: tangled black hair, almond eyes sharp as knives, the dragon-like aura buried deep behind the face of adolescence.
He had remember memories of that face. Memories which he had for 17 years but only remembered tonight due to lightning in the sky.
He had been reincarnated.
".Another life?" Long Hao muttered.
A slow smile spread over his face. "Heh. Heaven really messed up this time."
The dragon… has returned.
[CHAPTER ENDS]