The first attempt on my life didn't happen in a dark alley or during a grand duel. It happened while I was eating a bowl of Spirit-Noodle Soup in the palace gardens.
I was sitting with Han Tianyin, who was showing me how to make "Resonance" patterns in the soup broth. Qin Chenfeng was nearby, practicing his wind-kicks, and Zhou Wenhao was, as usual, standing three feet behind me like a sentient statue.
"Master," Wenhao said suddenly. His voice was lower than usual. "The air tastes like copper."
I stopped my spoon mid-air. My Space Root flared.
In the Divine Realm, most assassins try to hide their Qi. But the Bloodfang Empire (Rank 8) doesn't hide. They use a technique called "Blood-Mist Stealth," where they turn their own blood into a fine vapor that mimics the natural atmosphere.
"Chenfeng, left!" I shouted.
Qin Chenfeng didn't ask questions. He spun mid-air, his leg glowing with a green gale. CRACK.
A man manifested out of the red mist that had begun to swirl around the garden. He was dressed in the jagged, bone-plated armor of the Bloodfang "Slayer" unit. He didn't have eyes; he had two glowing pits of boiling blood.
"The Bloodfang sends its regards, Seventh Prince," the assassin hissed. "Our prince Huo Tuo is still unable to feel his meridians. We've decided that if he can't cultivate, you shouldn't be allowed to breathe."
"Stay back, Tianyin," I said, standing up.
But I didn't get to move.
Zhou Wenhao was already there. He didn't use a sword. He simply reached out and grabbed the assassin's throat. His hand was covered in a dark, "Ghostly" Qi that seemed to drain the red color right out of the assassin's arm.
"You are in the Master's garden," Wenhao said, his voice cold enough to freeze the soup. "You have brought the smell of slaughter to a place of rest. This is an unforgivable breach of etiquette."
"Kill him!" the assassin roared.
Suddenly, four more Slayers manifested from the mist, their bone-sabers aimed at my head. They were all at the Peak of the Golden Core Realm.
Qin Chenfeng laughed, a wild, battle-maniac glint in his eyes. "Finally! I was getting bored with the 'Quiet' talk! Storm-God's Fang!"
A tornado of green Qi erupted in the garden. Chenfeng moved like a blur, his kicks shattering bone-sabers before they could even get close to me. He was fighting with a ferocity that made the Bloodfang Slayers look like amateurs.
I stood there, protected by my "Right Hand" (Wenhao) and my "Vanguard" (Chenfeng). But I noticed one Slayer had managed to slip past them, his dagger coated in Primordial Bone-Marrow Poison. He was inches from my throat.
I didn't move. I didn't even drop my spoon.
I just blinked.
The space between the dagger and my neck didn't just shorten; it looped. The assassin's hand suddenly appeared behind his own back, and he stabbed himself in the shoulder with his own poisoned blade.
"Wha—?" the assassin gasped, falling to his knees.
"I'm eating," I said, looking down at him. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to get the temperature of this soup just right? The 'Liquidation' of your empire is currently at 5%. If you stay here, I'll move it to 100%."
The remaining Slayers saw the "Space Loop" and the terrifying efficiency of my subordinates. They realized that this wasn't an assassination; it was a delivery service for their own deaths.
"Retreat!" the leader yelled, dissolving back into mist.
"Not so fast," Wenhao whispered, disappearing into the shadows to hunt them down.
I sat back down and looked at Han Tianyin. She was still sitting perfectly still, looking at the soup.
"The water is messy again," she said softly.
"I know," I sighed, picking up my spoon. "But don't worry. I'll hire someone to clean it up. I'm too lazy to do it myself."