Inside a cavern lit by crystal lights embedded in the walls, a dark green pool bubbles at its centre like boiling stew.
People move through narrow passages and toss corpses into the pool, where wet chewing sounds echo from within.
At the pool's edge, two men and a woman stand watching with fascination.
Mora, the woman, asks, "When will the corpse golem be formed?"
Dylan replies, "A couple of months, if the supply remains steady."
Mora's eyes gleam. "Then if we speed up the corpse supply, it will form sooner."
Cole responds, "We've gone unnoticed for years—advancing the plan by a month isn't worth the risk of exposure."
Dylan says, "The plan is on schedule; rushing or delaying could ruin it—the timing was agreed upon with the undead race."
Unwillingness flashes in Mora's eyes. "Can't we finish the plan without the undead race? The corpse golem will have Sky Knight strength—enough to crush all resistance in the fortress."
Greed flickers in Cole's eyes as he silently agrees, then looks toward Dylan.
Dylan replies, "They gave us the method to create the corpse golem—if we betray them, they won't let us live."
Mora says, "We have to flee after the plan anyway—once we break through to the Sky rank, we'll escape to Aquan. They won't find us."
Dylan's mind races, calculating. "Let me talk to Bolan—see if he can increase the corpse supply."
They begin to imagine their future—reaching the Sky rank, extending their lifespan, growing unstoppable.
Then, footsteps echo behind them.
Mora turns and sees her son approaching.
"Where did you go again?" she asks sharply.
For the past month, her son has been leaving the cavern and returning late at night with a downcast expression.
Cole says, "You still didn't assassinate the target."
Mora's eyes widen—this is the first time she hears her son is being sent to kill someone.
"What?" she turns to Cole. "What's going on?"
Cole replies, "After he advanced to the Knight rank, I let him join the Dark Assassination Alliance to earn some resources."
Mora snaps, "I can provide my son with all the resources he needs—he doesn't need to do any work."
Cole says calmly, "You can provide for him for now, but once his cultivation reaches higher levels, you won't be able to. You're an undead cultivator—he's a knight."
Morise, her son, says quietly, "Mother, I need to complete a task for the Dark Assassination Alliance. They have the full Poison Snake Knight technique, all the way up to Sky rank."
Mora's tone softens. "You're just a knight now. With the fragment we have, you can still cultivate up to the Master rank."
Morise shakes his head and sighs. "To learn the full technique, I must become an elder in the Dark Assassination Alliance. The best path is to rise from the lower three cultivation ranks."
Mora asks, "Who are you assassinating? Tell me if I can help."
Morise exhales. "An inferior-rank talisman painter—hasn't even awakened his spiritual power."
Dylan frowns. "Is he protected? Is that why you still haven't killed him after a month?"
Morise shakes his head. "The guy's a turtle. Never leaves his apartment, and if he does, he's back before sundown—it's hard to get a clean shot. I could kill him in the morning, but it's risky for me to be out."
Cole says, "Don't take risks. To become a proper assassin, you need patience. You still have a month."
Morise is stunned. "I thought I had five more months to complete the assassination."
Mora says, "A month from now, you're going to Aquan."
Morise blinks. "Why?"
Dylan cuts in, "Don't ask questions. Just do what you're told."
Mora explains, "You'll go first—find a place for us to stay. We'll follow up later."
Morise nods, then leaves to sleep—he'll begin watching the target's apartment at dawn again tomorrow.
The next day, Morise sits on the rooftop of an adjacent apartment, eyes fixed on the target's door.
The sun rises, climbs, and hangs overhead while Morise quietly eats bread.
Hours pass, the sun sets, lights flicker on across the fortress—yet the target's door remains shut.
He sighs as silence settles in and thinks of leaving, but then the door creaks open.
The target steps out, disappears down the stairwell, and exits the building fully cloaked.
Morise follows, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, then dropping to the street below.
The target heads toward the southern end of the fortress.
Morise frowns—the cloaked figure, moonless night, heading south?
He whispers, "Black market."
It fits—black market nights occur only under a moonless sky.
He confirms his suspicion as the target enters the black market's sole entrance.
Morise turns back—there's only one way in, but many exits.
Still, to return home, the target must cross the Greenwood Bridge.
Morise finds a dark spot near the bridge and squats low—waiting for Virgil to deliver himself.
Virgil enters the black market, glancing around before heading deeper.
He's here to sell his talismans—doing it openly would expose his perfect success rate.
He wants to remain low-key until reaching Saint rank, then shock the world.
He's also here to buy soul sand.
The simulation for the Lotus Visualisation and Meditation technique's entry level is complete, but he still can't project his spiritual power.
The simulation tower only provides the method, not the outcome—he must practice to realise it.
A week ago, during the day, he drew two more runes and formed a spell slot.
He filled it with the lesser healing spell, a logical choice since he already mastered its talisman form.
Talisman runes derive from spell runes, making the transition smoother.
He was right—he learned it in two days, and in five days, reached proficiency.
He notices a shop labelled Talisman Shop and walks in.
Inside, a man waits behind the counter.
Virgil sells 15% of his talismans and leaves quietly.
He continues selling in other shops, each far apart to avoid suspicion.
While searching for a place to buy soul sand, a shout catches his attention.
"Come here if you want a cultivation technique!" someone yells.
"I've got undead, barbarian, and other races' techniques—revised for human use!"
"And if you want the originals, I've got those too."
A crowd gathers around the stall.
Cultivation techniques of other races can be practised by humans, but they carry severe risks.
Side effects may warp the body or mind, sometimes turning a human cultivator into a threat to their own race.
For this reason, the Saint Council strictly bans them.
Undead techniques require dead energy—practitioners lose emotion, grow cold, and eventually slaughter others to absorb that energy.
Undead cultivators have shorter lifespans, but at the Sky rank, they outlive others.
Barbarian techniques rely on blood energy, but humans can't generate enough on their own.
To sustain cultivation, a cultivator of barbarian technique, human has to drink blood—ideally from their own race.
Virgil joins the crowd and scans the techniques, both revised and original.
One scroll catches his eye—the Brain Fish Race technique.
Its description draws him in further.
Brain fish are intelligent aquatic creatures with massive brains and innate external spiritual power.
They can trap prey by creating illusion realms with their minds.
The technique is original, not revised for humans, making it rare and dangerous.
Because of that, Virgil manages to bargain it down to 50 gold shiq.
With the remaining money, he buys soul sand.
He checks his surroundings, ensuring no one is tailing him.
Then he slips into one of the exit tunnels and leaves the black market.
Virgil cautiously exits the tunnel and walks a few meters further.
He hides himself in the shadows, watching for anyone who might be following.
Though still within the fortress, the southern part is lawless—murder takes seconds here.
He waits for several minutes and, seeing no movement, starts heading home.
If he waits too long, the next person exiting might think he's lying in ambush.
According to black market rules, once someone exits, the path remains locked for ten minutes.
No one should follow him, but he checks anyway.
After all, it's the black market—who would trust its rules?
While walking, he thinks about why he bought the Brain Fish technique.
He cultivates spiritual power, too, and from their method, he might deepen his understanding.
This could be crucial—after all, the final rank of a talisman painter is called Saint Spiritualist, not Saint Talisman Painter.
That alone shows that spiritual power is the foundation, and talismans are just an application.
Without strong spiritual power, he couldn't draw intermediate talismans—or even a master-quality inferior healing talisman.
Which explains why, despite the simulation tower showing his mastery of healing talismans, he's never drawn one of master quality.
He doesn't need to train the new technique himself; he just needs to start it and feed it into the simulation tower.
He sighs in relief as he leaves the southern zone and heads toward the Greenwood Bridge.
But then, his heart starts to beat faster—an instinct he knows well.
It's the same unexplainable warning he's felt before in moments of danger.
He's inside the fortress now; if anything happens, patrolling guards would react immediately.
So logically, there shouldn't be any threat—but his instincts have never betrayed him.
His hand silently moves to the hilt of his sword, though his expression stays calm and unaware.
As he approaches the Greenwood Bridge, a faint sound reaches his ears.
Without hesitation, he spins, drawing his sword to guard his back.
Steel clashes.
The blow hits hard and pushes him several steps backwards—the attacker is strong.