Ominous dual-colored halos flowed along heavy cloud edges, crimson and ethereal blue intertwining to dye the night sky an eerie canopy. Beneath this oppressive firmament, two pitch-black figures crouched on soaring rooftops like shadows merged with roof tiles.
Night wind swept Arthur's skin with bone-piercing chill, yet he felt nearly exhilarating clarity. The day's organ-burning agony had finally temporarily subsided—since cultivating Solar Crucible, every day felt like torment on purgatory's coals.
The continent's common Combat Aura techniques emphasized gradual progression, guiding celestial energy to flow gently through specific meridians, with most eventually returning to heaven and earth, leaving only faint traces to temper physique. But Solar Crucible was utterly different. It brutally tore apart qi meridian barriers, forcibly locking violent Combat Aura within the body, compelling it to rampage through every channel until exhausted. The sensation resembled cramming invisible flames into one's dantian, then watching them explode toward limbs—inside-out incineration agony capable of driving most people insane.
Each technique circulation felt like suicide. Arthur needed to grit his teeth to endure the full process, always ending with sweat-soaked puddles beneath him.
Yet this masochistic cultivation brought astounding returns. After just half a month, he could clearly sense thin yet real Combat Aura flowing through his meridians—ordinary Mystic-rank techniques required at least three months' bitter cultivation to reach such levels.
"Heard you're practicing Solar Crucible?"
The black shadow beside him suddenly elbowed him, interrupting his recollections. Small Tony's lowered voice carried strange undertones. Compared to their first meeting's undisguised disdain, his gaze now held inexplicable complexity when viewing Arthur.
Arthur merely nodded.
"Take my advice—don't let those bastards Kaines and Randell fool you. Drop that thing early; it's simply not for human cultivation." Tony spat. "Your current pain is nothing? Gets deadlier later—you can't imagine burning organs to ash."
"You know this technique too?"
Tony pulled a sinister smile. "You're not their first guinea pig. Previous brothers they tricked into practicing either became crippled halfway through or during breakthrough... boom." His five fingers suddenly spread, making an explosion gesture. "Splattered everywhere. Don't let fast progress fool you—with that evil technique, you'll never touch Wargeneral threshold!"
Arthur smiled bitterly. "Too late for that now. Having chosen this path, I'll walk it to death."
Tony curled his lip dismissively. "Stubborn fool, no wonder they targeted you." He turned away, unwilling to engage further.
Arthur actively moved closer. "Brother Tony, what exactly are we doing tonight?"
"Hell knows why Kaines insisted I bring this burden," Tony glared at him irritably. "Stay put and keep watch. I'll sneak in and stab Cristy twice—revenge for Hague and the others."
"Then what?"
"What then?"
"After the assassination, what happens?"
Tony smacked Arthur's skull. "Did the orc camp make you stupid? Need to ask? Run!"
Arthur opened his mouth, staring at him like an idiot.
"What're you looking at! If you're too slow and Bloodthorn catches us, don't blame me for not warning you!"
Arthur suddenly understood something. "Now I know why the captain sent me with you."
"...What do you mean, kid?"
"I'm not the one who got stupid at the orc camp—you simply didn't bring your brain." Arthur's voice dropped extremely low yet every word rang clear. "You assassinate Cristy, and Bloodthorn will let it slide? Once they investigate, Blood Wolf and Bloodthorn will inevitably wage total war. If the captain truly wanted open conflict now, would he need to send us two sneaking around?"
Tony's small eyes blinked, stunned momentarily. "...Shit, makes sense." He scratched his hair irritably. "Can't really attack, yet need revenge for Hague... how the hell do we manage this?"
Arthur's mouth corners curved in the faintest arc. "I have an idea."
"You?" Tony's face showed complete skepticism.
"Forget it if you don't believe me. It's your mission anyway, not mine." Arthur made as if to retreat.
"Tsk, playing hard to get now?" Tony poked him again. "Fine, speak. Let's see what devilish schemes you've got."
"I'll tell you, but I have conditions: after the plan succeeds, you must teach me some real thief skills."
"If you can truly screw over those Bloodthorn bastards," Tony narrowed his eyes, "forget basic techniques—I'll even teach you my treasured Shadowstride footwork!"
"Your word?" Arthur's eyes suddenly blazed. He'd seen Tony's battlefield movements—weak in direct combat but slipperier than loaches, entirely relying on that elusive Earth-rank intermediate footwork.
"When has your brother Tony ever broken his word?" Tony snorted, immediately dampening hopes. "But don't celebrate early. Thievery requires talent—not everyone who wants to learn can succeed. Don't cry when you can't master it."
Arthur rolled his eyes—naturally, that was Tony's true sentiment.
"Since they started playing dirty, we'll play to the end." Arthur lowered his voice. "Valorhaven's three great mercenary companies—Blood Wolf and Bloodthorn fight to mutual destruction, why should The Wildfox Company keep watching from the sidelines?"
Tony glanced sideways at him. "You want to provoke Bloodthorn and Wildfox? I warn you, Wildfox leader Vareo is a genuine old fox! Don't be too clever and end up burning yourself!"
"Relax, we just need to..." Arthur leaned toward Tony's ear, voice completely melting into night wind.
Tony's eyes widened progressively as he listened, finally staring at Arthur incredulously. "How old are you, kid? Where do all these sinister ideas come from?"
A barely detectable flash of pain crossed Arthur's eyes, swift as illusion.
"In the orc camp, human slaves waited to die every day. To survive, you had to rack your brains... deceive companions, please orcs, do anything." His voice remained terrifyingly calm. "Before you attacked that lioness camp, fifty-seven human slaves lived there. My survival... never relied on luck alone."
Suffering matures people prematurely.
Gazing at the youth's smile—calm to the point of numbness—Tony truly saw for the first time this child whom fate had prematurely honed into a blade.