Tap tap tap.
The richly dressed young man buried his head and sprinted through the lush forest after the rain.
His mud-covered black boots trampled on the soft, carpet-like fallen leaves,
The black mud on his face was whisked away by the howling gale,
The grime on his body clung tightly to his clothes, sticky and obnoxious,
Yet, there was no irritation in the young man's heart.
Only tranquility, and rage.
He silently leapt out from the darkness, his hand accurately grasping the neck of an assassin clad in Night Clothes, wielding a longsword and a torch.
Crack.
A dull sound rang out,
The assassin's neck bone fractured, and his head drooped down like a wilted chicken.
Li Ang's eyes focused; he hadn't intended to kill with a single strike, merely to restrain his opponent's movements.
However, a kill was a kill.
He rushed forward, grabbed the assassin's left hand that held the torch, and flung it to the ground to extinguish the light,
