35: Chapter 35 Sending You On Your Way

The night was as dark as ink, and the cold wind wove through the streets and alleys of the capital, emitting a whimpering sound.

Chen Ran changed out of his jailer uniform, which was stained with a sour stench and the smell of blood, and put on an inconspicuous gray cotton-padded jacket. He did not leave through the main entrance, but instead slipped out through a hidden hole behind the prison.

Ninety years of internal energy circulated within his body, making his movements as light as a night cat.

With the "Breath Concealment Art" pushed to its limit, Chen Ran's aura completely merged into the cold night of deep winter.

Even a Martial Artist of the same Realm would find it extremely difficult to discover his presence, provided they did not deliberately investigate.

The Mass Grave was in the western suburbs of the capital, about ten-plus miles away from the prison.

Chen Ran did not use light-foot skills to dash; instead, he walked at a steady, unhurried pace like an ordinary person returning home at night. He needed time to observe and confirm whether or not this was a trap set for him.

Half an hour later, the distinct, putrid stench of the Mass Grave drifted into Chen Ran's nostrils with the wind.

This was the filthiest place in the capital. Nameless corpses, beggars who died of illness, and executed death row prisoners were mostly buried here in a hasty manner.

Wild dogs and crows were frequent visitors here, and occasionally, a few points of ghostly green phosphorus fire could be seen dancing on the graves.

Chen Ran stopped his footsteps and hid behind a dead, withered locust tree.

Three miles ahead was the dilapidated temple that Wang Hailong had mentioned.

The outline of the dilapidated temple flickered in the night; half of the roof had collapsed, and even the face of the enshrined statue could not be clearly seen.

Chen Ran did not rashly approach but closed his eyes, pushing his hearing and perception to their limits.

The sound of the wind, the rustling of leaves, the barking of wild dogs in the distance...

Suddenly, Chen Ran's ears twitched slightly.

Behind several ruins and withered trees around the dilapidated temple, extremely faint breathing sounds could be heard.

Not beasts, but people.

And, there was more than one.

Chen Ran slowly opened his eyes, his gaze sweeping across those shadows like a blade.

A total of five people.

They were scattered around the dilapidated temple, forming a loose encirclement. Judging by their steady and long breathing, these five people were all skilled hands, at least Martial Artists of the seventh rank or higher.

"There really is an ambush," Chen Ran sneered inwardly.

Wang Hailong's wife and daughter were nothing more than two weak women with no strength to truss a chicken.

If the powerful nobles wanted to kill them, sending any random street thug would suffice; why bother dispatching five seventh-rank Martial Artists?

These five people were not here to kill; they were here to "fish."

They were waiting. Waiting for the person who might come to save them.

Wang Hailong had been in the prison for so long that the powerful nobles were unsure of whom he had told the secret.

Therefore, they used Wang Hailong's wife and daughter as bait, hoping to lure out the potential person who knew the secret and catch them all in one net.

Chen Ran's gaze crossed over the five hidden sentries and landed on an open space behind the dilapidated temple.

There was a bluestone half a person's height there, with a " 卍" symbol vaguely carved on it.

The entrance to the cellar was right there.

Chen Ran could feel two weak breathing sounds coming from the cellar. One coarse and one fine, filled with fear and despair.

Those were Wang Hailong's wife and daughter.

They were like two rabbits trapped in a snare, only able to shiver in the darkness, waiting for the hunter's butcher knife.

Chen Ran withdrew his gaze and leaned against the rough trunk of the old locust tree.

To save, or not to save?

If he turned and left now, he would still be that mediocre jailer Chen Ran. Delivering meals every day, signing in, and safely hiding in the prison.

But the Glazed Golden Body Art would be completely beyond his reach.

Moreover, once Wang Hailong died, if the powerful nobles discovered that no one came to save his wife and daughter, these five people would not hesitate to kill them.

"Five seventh-rankers..." Chen Ran calculated silently in his heart.

If he confronted them head-on, he was confident he could end the battle within ten Moves. But that would cause too much of a commotion and easily attract the night-patrolling city defense army.

He had to finish it quickly and kill with one strike.

Chen Ran took a deep breath, drawing the cold air into his lungs.

He took the opera mask with the green face and fangs from his bosom and slowly put it on his face.

The mask clung to his cheeks, covering his originally delicate features, revealing only a pair of eyes as deep as pools.

Chen Ran drew the standard long saber at his waist.

This blade was very ordinary, with even a few nicks on the edge. But at this moment, infused with Chen Ran's ninety years of internal energy, the blade faintly shimmered with a chilling white light.

The "Breath Concealment Art" was activated.

Chen Ran's figure seemed to melt into the shadows of the old locust tree.

Like a weightless fallen leaf, he drifted silently toward the nearest hidden sentry.

That hidden sentry was lying behind a half-collapsed grave, staring listlessly in the direction of the dilapidated temple. He could never have imagined that the God of Death had already come up behind him.

Chen Ran did not use his blade.

He extended his left hand, clamping it over the sentry's mouth like an iron pincer, while his right hand, with fingers joined like a blade, precisely struck the opponent's carotid artery.

"Snap."

An extremely faint, crisp sound.

The sentry's body suddenly stiffened, his pupils dilated instantly, and then he slumped to the ground limply without making a sound.

Having disposed of the first one, Chen Ran did not pause in the slightest; his figure flashed, and he merged back into the darkness.

The second, the third...

Chen Ran was like a patient hunter, systematically harvesting the lives of his prey within his own domain.

His movements were simple, direct, and lethal. There were no flashy Moves, only absolute control over power and timing.

When the fourth hidden sentry fell, the last person finally sensed that something was wrong.

It was a burly man, who was also the leader of these five.

He turned around abruptly, drew the long saber at his waist, and looked around vigilantly.

"Old Three? Old Four?" He lowered his voice, calling out his companions' names.

There was no response.

Only the shrill wind of the Mass Grave responded to his call.

Cold sweat seeped from the man's forehead. He knew he had encountered a tough opponent.

Just then, he saw a pair of eyes.

A pair of eyes hidden behind the green-faced, fanged mask.

There was no murderous intent in those eyes, only a calmness as if looking at a dead person.

The man roared, raised his long saber, and hacked fiercely toward that mask.

Chen Ran did not dodge.

He simply raised the standard long saber in his hand slowly.

"Clang!"

The two blades clashed.

The man felt a wave of overwhelming power surging along the blade; the web between his thumb and index finger split instantly, and his long saber flew out of his hand.

Before he could react, Chen Ran's blade had already sliced across his throat.

A jet of blood sprayed out, carving a shrill arc in the night sky.

The man clutched his neck, staring fixedly at the monster in front of him wearing the mask, his throat emitting "gurgling" sounds, and finally, he collapsed powerlessly.

Chen Ran shook the blood off the blade and sheathed it.

Five corpses lay scattered around the dilapidated temple.

Chen Ran did not look at them but walked straight toward the bluestone with the " 卍" symbol carved on it.

He extended his hand and pressed it onto the bluestone.

Ninety years of internal energy erupted; the bluestone, weighing a thousand catties, was pushed aside by his single hand, revealing a pitch-black hole.

From the cellar, two terrified screams rang out.

Chen Ran stood at the entrance, looking down at the two shivering women in the cellar.

"Come out." Chen Ran's voice came through the mask, sounding somewhat muffled and hoarse.

Wang Hailong's wife protected her daughter in her arms tightly, looking in terror at this green-faced, fanged monster.

"Who... who are you?" she asked, trembling.

"Entrusted by someone to send you on your way," Chen Ran said indifferently.

This sentence sounded ambiguous; Wang Hailong's wife immediately turned ashen, thinking it was a killer sent by their enemies.

Chen Ran couldn't be bothered to explain; he took something out of his bosom and threw it into the cellar.

It was a blood-stained piece of cloth with a crookedly written "Dragon" character on it.

This was the token Wang Hailong had written by biting his finger in the prison cell.

Seeing this piece of cloth, tears welled up in Wang Hailong's wife's eyes.

"Go," Chen Ran turned around, with his back to the cellar entrance, "Head south, and don't look back."

Wang Hailong's wife gritted her teeth, pulled her daughter, and climbed out of the cellar with difficulty.

They did not thank him, nor did they ask for Chen Ran's name. They knew that the less they knew, the longer they would live.

Watching the backs of the mother and daughter disappearing into the night, Chen Ran pushed the bluestone back into its original position.

He glanced at the five corpses on the ground, cleaned up the scene simply, and turned to walk in the direction of the prison.

He had already completed half of his part of tonight's deal.

Next, it depended on Wang Hailong.