He put away the Ends Bow and called out, "Come in. What is it?"

The door opened. Only then did Zhang Luan notice she wore nothing but a thin crimson slip dress, clutching a thick tome to her chest.

"Holy Son~ The High Priestess sent me to deliver the Sacred Temple’s scriptures. Please accept them."

Her words were polite, but she didn’t loosen her grip on the book. She strode straight to Zhang Luan, striking an even more alluring pose than before, teasing his nerves.

He sized her up. Decent figure—but nowhere near Nan Fenghua’s league. At the very least, Nan Fenghua’s plump melons were far more tempting.

"Anything else?"

"Yes... Holy Son, I have a request~"

Zhang Luan studied her again. A mysterious smile suddenly curled his lips. His attitude did a complete 180. He hooked an arm around her slender waist, pulling her flush against him.

"What is it, cute little thing?"

"Holy Son, you’re so naughty~ Then I’ll just say it..."

Zhang Luan grinned, his hand roaming over her body.

"Go on. What do you want? My life?"

The maid’s expression froze. Without hesitation, she whipped out a rune-engraved dagger hidden somewhere and thrust it toward Zhang Luan’s heart.

But just as the blade grazed his skin, her body locked rigid. Disbelief flooded her eyes.

Zhang Luan sneered. He patted her pretty face. "Mighty Roar Cathedral’s assassins move fast. Pity—I saw through you."

She’d seemed off from the start. Zhang Luan had assumed she was just another eager maid—after all, as Holy Son in a temple teeming with women, suitors were inevitable.

But the purple-gold blossom tattoo on her lower abdomen gave her away.

Mighty Roar Cathedral’s Assassin Unit.

These female operatives lurked in Acamana City, ambushing Akamana Temple members. They specialized in seducing men for intel, then stabbing them with cursed daggers. Even targets far stronger than them would fall—the daggers’ curse activated upon contact: the assassin would die instantly, taking their victim with them.

Players coveted these weapons. When respawns were guaranteed, sacrificing one life to erase another was brutally efficient.

Watching her furious glare, Zhang Luan’s sadistic streak flared. He released the spatial energy he’d embedded in her during his "touch."

Her eyes sharpened. Mistaking his power for failure, she vanished into shadow. In a blink, she reappeared behind him, dagger aimed at his back.

Zhang Luan showed no mercy. He spun, unleashing a roundhouse kick that sent her—and the shattered door—flying.

His upgraded strength was terrifying. Compared to his frail past self, he could now crush his former body without effort.

Blood sprayed from the assassin’s mouth. Her HP bar plummeted to a quarter. She glared venomously, then melted into shadow again—this time fleeing.

Zhang Luan wouldn’t let her escape. He nocked the Shadowhorn Bow. Spatial energy tracked her coordinates.

*Whoosh.*

The spiraling heavy arrow pierced a massive white stone pillar. Blood bloomed across the stone as the woman’s body slowly materialized—lifeless.

The crash drew others. Yanat arrived first, frowning at the scene. "Holy Son, what happened?"

Zhang Luan lowered his bow, calm. "Mighty Roar assassin. Tried to kill me. Self-defense. Problem?"

Yanat said nothing. He signaled Guardians to remove the corpse before speaking again. "They targeted you this soon? You clearly know their methods. No need for explanations from me."

"Fix the door."

"Yes, Holy Son."

Later, in bed, Zhang Luan examined the cursed dagger. This assassin was a warning: such weapons could bypass his defenses.

He had counters—the Peerless Elegance Necklace granted total curse immunity—but its side effect was gender swap. Physically and mentally, he recoiled at the thought.

Another solution existed: Soul Devourers in the Ancient Forest. These creatures fed on residual soul fragments after death. Their essence brewed curse-removing potions. He’d hunt some soon.

That night, Zhang Luan slipped to the Akamana Temple’s Guardian training grounds to test the Ends Bow.

To his surprise, a lone figure hacked at wooden dummies with a practice sword.

Closer, he recognized Lin Jiu—the man he’d nearly killed. Lin Jiu’s thin shirt clung to him, soaked in sweat. He’d clearly been training for hours.

Spotting Zhang Luan, Lin Jiu flinched. Exhaustion overwhelmed him; he stumbled and collapsed.

"W-what do you want?"

Zhang Luan almost laughed. Fear had rooted deep in this man.

"Is this ground yours alone? Your authority exceeds even mine, Holy Son?"

"N-no! I didn’t mean— Holy... Holy Son... please."

Amused by his terrified defiance, Zhang Luan turned away. The seed of fear was planted. Lin Jiu would never dare oppose him again.

He drew the Ends Bow. Black and crimson currents danced across its frame. His fingers hooked the light-formed bowstring.

He loosed a minimal-power shot at a dummy. *Crack.* It shattered.

Zhang Luan nodded, satisfied. The bow felt like an extension of his arm—fluid, instinctive, flawless.