Chapter 177: Night of Assassins

As dusk descended, the Snowy Demon Citadel had already succumbed to the embrace of night.

The streets lay deserted, abandoned to the howling winds that swept through them in relentless fury. Within the Jade Garden, an eerie silence prevailed. Not even the chirping of insects or the calls of night birds disturbed the stillness—only the weight of accumulated snow upon the branches, collapsing under its own burden with muffled thuds.

Beyond the garden walls, the night spread out like a slow-falling flurry of snow, veiling the world in darkness.

Near the Imperial Palace, the Summit Striding Dao stretched onward, flanked by mansions that stood with doors wide open, their interiors aglow with flickering lamplight. Yet, not a single soul could be seen. The wind and snow swirled in, claiming dominion over the empty halls.

Such a scene did not carry an air of festivity, but rather an ominous weight, pressing upon the heart like a silent omen.

It was in this cold solitude that Princess Feng Yang passed these ghostly estates, returning to her own residence. As she stepped through the gate, she found Ye Han seated in the courtyard, draped in heavy robes, tending to a tea brazier by the fire.

“That magnolia tree you brought back from the human lands—did it fail to survive?”

At the sound of his voice, Feng Yang nodded lightly. “It was too cold, after all. Even in the warmth of the greenhouse, it withered.”

Ye Han followed her gaze toward the palace. “If we could journey to the Nine Provinces freely, raising flowers would not be such an arduous task.”

“But I think it is better if we don’t wage war,” she replied.

His eyes drifted to the medicine chest in her hands. “Why have you returned so late? Where have you been?”

Feng Yang handed the chest to a waiting maidservant. “I went to the Jade Garden—to treat that human, Ji You.”

Ye Han arched a brow, his curiosity piqued. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d take such interest in him.”

Gone was the panic she had felt in the garden earlier. Now, as she recalled the day’s events, a frown crept onto her brow. “At first, I was curious about him. But now… I find that I do not like him much.”

“Why is that?”

“He is… frivolous.”

Ye Han blinked. “?”

Feng Yang sighed, her voice carrying a hint of disappointment. “I had heard the tales—how he once beheaded a Warlord of the Barbarian Tribes with a single sword strike in the wilds, a feat spoken of in awe. But in my encounters with him, I find him uncouth. He disregards etiquette, acts unpredictably, and speaks with reckless abandon.”

Ye Han chuckled. “When I traveled to the Nine Provinces under the guise of trade, most humans I met were just like that.”

“And something else,” she added, gaze darkening. “He does not value his own life. That wound on his hand—he knew it would heal on its own, yet he insisted on making it worse. Why?”

“??”

Ye Han failed to grasp the latter part, but he found himself oddly fixated on the former. Was this disdain… or concern?

Just as their conversation drifted into silence, something stirred beyond the gates. Without warning, the snow-covered ground at the threshold of the estate was swallowed by a dense, inky darkness.

Both turned their heads sharply. The once-bright lanterns of the neighboring mansions flickered and, as if strangled by unseen hands, were extinguished all at once.

A hush fell over the world.

On the Forest Homeward Dao within the Inner Citadel, silence gave way to a cascade of swift, measured footsteps—like a sudden downpour striking the frozen earth. Shadows flitted through the dense night, swift and disciplined.

One group.
Another.
And then a third.

The wind carried the sharp scent of metal, the tang of impending slaughter hidden beneath its howl. The killing intent, though veiled, surged in the darkness, hurtling toward the Jade Garden like an approaching storm.

Snowlight gleamed upon armor, reflecting a cold, murderous radiance. The iron scent of war permeated the air.

Among the advancing figures were two aged demons, their scales dulled, their fangs marked with yellowed stains. They descended soundlessly, their feet sinking into the snow.

“His Majesty wavers. It is our duty to act on his behalf.”

“The Demon Clan has waited long enough. We should not wait any longer.”

“The merit shall be ours, the legacy eternal. Our people will remember us.”

“Go forth. Kill.”

The night bore down upon the land, heavy as a blade’s edge. The wind and snow lashed against the world, biting deep like knives.

The Chieftains of the Scaled Clan and the Fanged Clan stood shrouded in the darkness, uttering but a single word—low yet piercing, sinking into the ears of every assassin present.

“Kill.”

A moment later, a tide of lethal intent surged forward.

Figures erupted from the shadows, streaking toward the Jade Garden like arrows loosed from a drawn bow. Their momentum was absolute, their aura oppressive, a flood of black intent threatening to drown all in its wake. The very night seemed to seethe and churn.

From courtyard to pavilion, from rockery to stone corridors, the silent footsteps quickened—urgent, yet perfectly coordinated.

The demon deathsworn burned with fervor, their vertical pupils gleaming with feverish anticipation. Though the frost bit at their bodies, the blades in their hands, and the hearts within their chests, burned hot.

The leader, standing at the vanguard, raised a hand. The assassins, who had crouched in waiting, drew their blades as one, their forms surging toward the veranda before them.

The hunt had begun.

Barely had the demon warriors rushed forth when they halted in their tracks. A figure had stepped onto the corridor—an elder with a beard and hair as white as frost, gripping an iron sword as he descended the stairs. With but a slight tilt of his head, his gaze swept across the battlefield.

In an instant, a sword aura of unparalleled sharpness howled through the night like a streak of silver lightning tearing apart the darkness. The force slashed across the corridor with a fury like crashing waves, cutting down everything in its path.

The shriek of the blade echoed, followed by a rain of crimson. Blood spurted into the air, dyeing the pristine snowscape of Jade Garden in an ominous shade of red.

Just as the slaughter unfolded, a thunderous explosion erupted from the right side of the courtyard, shattering the silence like a divine punishment. A column of fire roared into the sky, its heat searing through the night, scattering the dense winter mist. The blast sent a squad of demon riders hurtling through the bamboo grove, their bodies consumed by flame. Even the drifting snowflakes, caught in the tempest, melted into sizzling droplets upon contact with the inferno.

But just as the battle raged, a formidable presence surged from the shadows. With it came a colossal war hammer, descending from the heavens with the weight of a falling star.

Yan Chuan raised his sword in defense, yet the force of the blow sent him crashing through a lofty pavilion within Jade Garden. The structure crumbled instantly, stone and timber scattering like shattered porcelain. The sound of destruction rolled through the streets like distant thunder, rousing even those who had long since retired for the night.

The demon warriors who followed in the wake of devastation stormed the garden, their battle cries piercing the air, stirring the night into chaos.

Above, the surging force of clashing energies twisted into a violent storm, its tremors reverberating through the land. The demon denizens of the surrounding quarters, startled from their slumber, leapt onto rooftops to witness the unfolding carnage.

“What is happening?”
“A battle… it’s Jade Garden!”
“It must be the human envoy! That killing intent—it’s meant for them!”

The night air buzzed with murmurs as figures clad in hastily donned robes gathered upon the walls, their eyes widening in horror. The pure snow beneath was now a battlefield of crimson and steel, where killing intent ran rampant like a flood unchained.

Demonkind often settled grievances through duels, a custom enshrined within their laws. Yet even so, such conflicts had always been mere contests of fists and blades, never had the brutality of war tainted the heart of the Inner Citadel.

Then, once more, the war hammer rose and crashed down upon the ruins, seeking to crush all resistance beneath its might.

“It’s Ye Tuo, the famed Demon General of the Scale Clan!”
“Indeed, it is him!”

Upon the rooftops, murmurs of recognition spread, eyes darting toward a lone figure standing in solemn silence. The patriarch of the Scale Clan observed the scene with narrowed eyes.

This was the strike he had hidden from the Demon Emperor, his strongest hand in this game of death.

With the death warriors charging in, the intended assassination had devolved into open slaughter. Like cinders caught in a winter storm, battle-hardened cultivators of the Immortal Sects emerged from the wreckage, their arrival twisting the tide into a clash of titans. Dust and snow entwined in the air, veiling the chaos in shifting shadows.

And from beneath the shattered pavilion, as the war hammer fell once more, a sword light erupted like a shooting star from the depths of the ruin.

The Demon General’s pupils shrank.

Clang!

A shower of sparks scattered as the two forces clashed. The mighty war hammer trembled, forcing its wielder back several steps before he steadied himself, muscles flexing with renewed force as he struck again.

Observing from the rooftops, the expressions of the Scale Clan Patriarch and the Demon Clan Leader darkened like storm-laden clouds.

They had never set foot in the human lands of the Nine Provinces, but trade and intelligence had long since illuminated the nature of their rivals. To their knowledge, humanity had always been a fragmented race, each faction concerned only with their own self-interest. Cultivators, consumed by their own ambitions, cared little for the struggles of common folk, their lives spent in endless power struggles.

Even blood ties could not temper their scheming. Fathers and sons, brothers and sisters—kinship was but a fleeting illusion, shattered by greed and thirst for dominance.

Thus, they had assumed that those Immortal Sect cultivators who accompanied the envoy cared nothing for the diplomatic fate of their race. With promises of demonstone and spirit ores, they had lured them with an elaborate feast, intending to scatter them, leaving the defenseless delegation to be slaughtered in the night.

Yet their plan had failed.

Not a single one had attended the banquet.

And now, under the cover of night, their ambush had met a counterattack that had clearly been long prepared.

This was no coincidence.

“They have laid a formation…”

“Then tell them not to entangle themselves in battle. Kill the human envoys swiftly—even if it is only one!”

Amidst the surging tides of violent qi, a figure wielding a colossal battle-axe leapt skyward. In the shroud of night, his form suddenly expanded by three feet, his body shifting into a monstrous transformation. Without hesitation, he plunged toward the Western Wing.

As the battle-axe descended with a deafening force, a searing iron blade shot forth from the darkness, intercepting it with unrelenting might.

Sparks scattered like a celestial dance, and the force of their clash sent billows of snowstorming through the courtyard, rolling outward like an unrelenting tempest.

In the next instant, the iron blade, controlled by a masterful surge of spiritual energy, was drawn into the hand of a figure who strode through the air.

“Jian Rong, the Demon General, has come as well…”

“That’s—that’s Nuo Gao, the Scaled Clan General!”

“And there’s Xue Bai of the Fang Clan! I once saw him from afar at their ancestral rites!”

With the emergence of one formidable demon after another, the entire Jade Garden roared with ferocious combat.

The human warriors, who had initially held their ground, found themselves entangled. Yan Chuan and the Mountain and Sea Pavilion elder were each forced to face two opponents at once.

The chosen prodigies of the Immortal Sects clashed against the relentless deathsworn of the two great demon clans. Swords and sabers gleamed in the night, streaking crimson through the air. Every breath of the battle was stretched to its limit, every heartbeat a razor-thin margin from death.

A thunderous explosion shattered the night.

In the turbulent chaos of snow and steel, a weighty iron blade carved downward. Huo Hong, a demon warrior, could do nothing but raise his weapon in defense, his entire body infused with surging qi. Yet even so, the strike sent him hurtling backward, crashing violently into the snow-covered ground.

A female demon general, her complexion pale and her waist as slender as a willow, landed with effortless grace, her blade shimmering under the moonlight. With a single motion, she cleaved through the bamboo grove before her, but as the splintered stalks fell, her brows furrowed—Huo Hong had vanished.

At that moment, a sword light burst into the sky.

Yan Chuan, forcing back two demon generals with a brutal sweep of his sword, turned mid-strike and sent another slash toward the female general, forcing her to retreat ten paces.

“Why can’t they even kill one!?”

The chieftain of the Scaled Clan narrowed his eyes. “They have formed triangular battle formations, the elders protecting the young. Each movement is in perfect coordination.”

The Fang Clan chieftain clenched his fists, rage flickering in his gaze.

Tonight had been meant to be a swift and decisive execution, an ambush so sudden that there would be no turning back. Yet from the very first moment, the plan had faltered, the battle dragged into a deadlock.

“His Majesty detests others making decisions on his behalf,” the chieftain murmured. “Mu Le, I do not fear punishment, but I do fear failing at the final step.”

A single instant of a perfect ambush would force an answer upon the Demon Emperor.

But failure—failure might push him toward a different choice altogether.

Snow and wind raged on, yet the battle burned ever fiercer.

The Scaled Clan chieftain remained silent, while the Fang Clan chieftain suddenly stiffened, sensing a subtle breeze slithering through the night.

Among humans, demons, and barbarians, it was the human race that was weakest. Compared to the other two, they lacked both physical fortitude and innate abilities.

But among demons, there were some whose very nature was to assassinate.

Like Shu He.

In raw strength, he was far from the strongest among demon warriors. But in a battle where life and death were decided in the shadows, he was among the deadliest.

Because he was swift. And silent.

When taken to the extreme, certain talents became terrifying beyond measure.

Shu He was that terror, moving unseen through the chaos. He slithered past clashing blades and surging qi, bypassing courtyard after courtyard, like a specter drifting through the darkness.

He entered the Western Wing without a sound, his dagger gleaming with chilling light.

The scent of blood was near. The moment of death was at hand.

Through the faint flickering of candlelight behind a paper window, Shu He saw figures moving within. He tightened his grip, poised to deliver a killing blow.

Then—his entire body went rigid. A chill raced down his spine, instinct screaming before thought could form.

Without hesitation, he flung himself backward, leaping away just as a streak of sword light slashed through the space he had occupied mere heartbeats ago. The frozen ground split beneath the strike, a deep gash marking its wake.

“?!”

Shu He’s eyes widened in shock. He turned his gaze skyward.

A lone figure stood atop the rooftop, their golden eyes ablaze in the night, locking onto him with an intensity akin to lanterns of the underworld.

A hunter had been waiting for him.

(This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation)

[Table of Content]

[Story Wiki]

[Previous Chapter]

[Next Chapter]