Tomas Trell was in an unusually good mood.
He strolled through the village at a leisurely pace, a folding fan in hand, fanning himself as a crooked smile tugged at his lips. He looked relaxed—almost smug.
Then he saw Jasper Cole entering through the village gate.
Tomas froze.
The fan slipped from his fingers and fell to the ground.
Jasper was covered in blood, yet his clothes were intact. No tears. No signs of a desperate escape.
That single detail told Tomas everything.
They're all dead.
Rage exploded in his chest.
With a roar, Tomas lunged forward, striking with an open palm aimed straight at Jasper's face.
Jasper reacted on instinct, raising both arms to block.
It was useless.
Though Jasper's strength exceeded that of a normal Bronze Tier, Rank 2 cultivator—approaching Rank 3—it was nothing compared to Tomas Trell's Bronze Tier, Rank 7 power.
Crack.
Both of Jasper's forearm bones shattered instantly.
His body was sent flying like a ragdoll, smashing into a wooden house behind him. The impact punched straight through the wall.
Four ribs snapped.
His left leg twisted grotesquely.
Blinding pain surged through his back. His arms wouldn't respond. His vision swam, ears ringing violently. Even activating willpower detection felt nearly impossible.
The Assassin Combat Suit absorbed over sixty percent of the force.
Without it, he would have died on the spot.
Tomas approached slowly, his expression twisted and manic.
"Weren't you impressive?" Tomas sneered. "Bronze Tier, Rank 2, killing Rank 4 cultivators like they were trash. What's wrong now?"
He leaned closer. "That old fool thought he could use you against me? Pathetic. Killing you is easier than crushing an ant."
His eyes gleamed greedily. "And don't think I don't know about the gold. Hand it over. Maybe I'll be generous and let you live."
He grabbed Jasper by the collar and shook him violently. "Where is it?!"
Jasper weakly reached into his clothes, pulled out four gold coins, and tossed them aside.
Tomas released him immediately and rushed over, scooping up the coins. He bit one with his teeth, then burst into laughter.
"Hahaha! Real gold! I'm rich!"
Jasper, lying on the ground, smiled faintly.
Using his remaining willpower, he silently pulled every Mystic Iron needle from inside the Assassin Combat Suit and launched them at Tomas.
No sound.
No warning.
The explosions erupted all at once.
BOOM—!
Tomas was thrown backward. His clothes were shredded. The gold coins disintegrated into fragments. Flesh was torn open along his right arm, blood pouring freely.
Tomas staggered upright, eyes bloodshot, madness flooding his face.
His killing intent slammed down on Jasper like a tidal wave.
"I'll kill you," Tomas hissed. "No—death is too easy. I'll make you suffer. I'll keep you alive while Skeleton arrows turn you into a pincushion. I'll let Zombies tear you apart. I'll have Spiders drink your blood. And whatever's left, Creepers will erase!"
He grabbed Jasper's left leg and twisted.
Jasper screamed.
The pain was like being fed into a grinder.
Gritting his teeth, Jasper stared at Tomas with cold, feral eyes. "Then try it. I hope you enjoy being hunted—every hour of every day."
Tomas released his leg and reached for the other. "Let's see who's the hunter… and who's the prey."
"STOP!"
Elder Rowan rushed forward, shouting. "Tomas! Have you forgotten the agreement?!"
Tomas turned slowly, eyes unfocused, then laughed. "Oh? Right. The agreement."
He grinned viciously. "Fine. I'll spare his life. But he leaves now—and kills five Bronze Tier, Rank 3 Zombies outside the village."
Jasper said nothing, his gaze fixed on Tomas.
He didn't understand Tomas's true intention—but with time and medicine, killing a few Zombies was still possible.
Tomas dragged Jasper toward the gate.
"Until he comes back," Tomas barked, "no one helps him. No food. Not a single grain. If you disobey—villagers die."
Panic spread instantly.
"Yes, yes! Village Head, don't help him!""He's strong enough—he'll manage!"
Elder Rowan clenched his fists and looked at Jasper, voice heavy with guilt. "Jasper… I'm sorry."
Jasper answered hoarsely, "I understand, Elder. But whether these people deserve your protection… think about it."
A villager spat angrily. "You freeloader! Eating our food and still slandering us? Get out!"
Jasper forced himself upright, using his short sword as a crutch, and limped toward the forest.
Garrick Forge came running, breathless. "You idiot! You'd better survive!"
Jasper stopped and glanced back. "The people who deserve to die aren't dead yet. I won't be the one to fall."
He turned and disappeared into the trees.
Garrick watched, eyes glistening.
Jasper collapsed beneath a roadside tree, tending to his wounds with crude bandages and leftover food. Afterward, he hugged his sword and entered meditation.
People passed by, staring—but none approached.
Then a shadow blocked the sunlight.
Jasper looked up.
A girl stood before him—thirteen or fourteen at most.
She wore a white coat over a sleeveless white leather vest. White guards adorned her wrists. Her combat shorts revealed smooth, pale legs, with sky-blue daggers sheathed at her sides. Snow-white boots covered her calves.
Her silver hair fell to her waist, tied into twin tails with white ribbons. Pink eyes sparkled with curiosity.
She wasn't looking at Jasper.
She was looking at his clothes.
A boy about Jasper's age stood nearby—sixteen, maybe.
…A suitor? Jasper's heart skipped.
Stories flashed through his mind—protagonists hunted for offending love interests.
Cold sweat broke out.
He yanked his hood lower, struggled to his feet, and limped into the forest.
After a short distance, the pain in his leg worsened. He collapsed beneath another tree and sighed in relief when no one followed.
Then—
A white figure dropped from above and tapped his shoulder.
"Why are you running?" a cheerful voice said. "I'm not here to rob you."