The Hunt Begins

"No, I can't drink anymore, I'm not good with alcohol!"

An Yi's face was flushed red as he waved his hand dismissively, then proceeded to down an entire bottle of white liquor in front of the crowd.

By now, the other assassins were completely drunk, swaying unsteadily.

If the Law Enforcement Bureau showed up now, they could easily round up this whole bunch.

"Ugh, what a bunch of losers!"

An Yi rubbed his throbbing head and staggered outside.

At that moment, Kim Jung-ho, who had been pretending to be drunk, stood up.

Gene the Mechanical Hand wasn't drunk either, sitting cross-legged as he casually sipped on his dark beer.

One by one, several other assassins began to stir.

Their drunkenness had been an act.

When you lived constantly on the edge of life and death, losing consciousness was far too dangerous.

"Hey, everyone, are we really going to let this guy be our leader?" asked a red-bandana-wearing assassin.

There were no official martial arts rankings overseas, but by rough estimates, among the fifty or so assassins present, eight were at a level comparable to the Void Force realm.

The rest were mostly at the Transformation Force or Hidden Force level.

They all had some skills—otherwise, they wouldn’t have the audacity to challenge the Asura Sect.

Bob the Poisoner grinned. "Why not? This guy’s ruthless, crazy, and sharp as a tack!"

No one else objected.

After all, most of them had no ambitions of claiming one of the Twelve Leaders' spots in Paradise.

They’d be satisfied just taking down an Asura Sect member, getting a share of the spoils, and walking away with a flawed serum.

A middle-aged man in a baseball cap spoke thoughtfully, "What I’m concerned about is his plan. Hunting other assassins—won’t that piss off the Paradise organization?"

Kim Jung-ho smirked arrogantly. "How many of us here actually give a damn about Paradise?"

Some were Paradise assassins, while others were freelancers who survived by taking odd jobs.

The only thing they really cared about was Paradise’s serums.

Gene, who had been silently drinking, stroked his brown beard and said calmly, "I think the boss’s plan is solid. If we take all the Asura Sect members ourselves, that means we control the distribution of their heads. A dozen members means a dozen serums up for grabs!"

"At least a dozen of us could get our hands on the serum. Low risk, high reward."

Kim Jung-ho scoffed. "Enough with the hesitation. Paradise is a chaotic mess—none of those leaders give a damn about us anyway!"

Bob scratched his white hair. "Alright, enough chatter. Let’s sleep. Whether Ito’s got what it takes, we’ll see soon enough. If not, we’ll just disband."

Kim Jung-ho shrugged.

They were just a temporary alliance of freelancers. If things didn’t work out, they’d go their separate ways.

The night was dark and the wind howled.

By the time An Yi stumbled out of the underground base, it was already past midnight.

The biting cold wind brushed against his face, rustling his beard and sobering him up a little.

Rubbing his smooth, bald head, An Yi couldn’t help but marvel at the Demon Mask’s incredible power.

It could even mimic a bald head, beard, and fingerprints perfectly!

"Jiro."

A soft, feminine voice called out to him in Japanese from behind.

An Yi turned around—it was none other than Mikawa Nako.

"Nako..."

An Yi forced a smile.

His memories of Nako were hazy, and he was afraid of saying too much and giving himself away.

Tears welled up in Mikawa Nako’s eyes, trickling down her cheeks.

An Yi felt awkward, unsure how to respond.

Honestly, he didn’t know the exact nature of Nako’s relationship with the bearded man, so he had to tread carefully.

Mikawa Nako wasn’t quite a 9/10, but she was undeniably attractive, with a charm in her every expression that was hard to describe.

She reminded him of the married heroines from those "educational" videos on his phone.

Seeing An Yi’s dumbfounded expression, Nako suddenly giggled, reaching out to gently wipe the sweat from his forehead. "You’re sweating so much."

An Yi: "..."

Noticing his silence, Nako lowered her gaze. "I know you’ve liked me for a long time, but I never expected you’d go this far for me. Ikeda Yu was my fiancé..."

An Yi: "..."

He had no idea what to say.

He’d actually killed her fiancé?!

Nako looked at him with sorrow. "I get it—you wanted to have me for yourself. But now that you’ve killed my fiancé, I can’t be with you."

Hearing that, An Yi secretly sighed in relief—only to freeze again.

Because Nako had just started unbuttoning her blue combat uniform.

"Yamete!"

Sweat beaded on An Yi’s forehead.

"But... I admire your courage. Today, you seem like a completely different person. Even if we can’t be together, we can still be... lovers."

Nako’s eyes were hazy as she leaned closer.

For some reason, the usually plain-looking Ito Jiro now seemed irresistibly attractive.

Even his bald head and beard radiated an intoxicating masculinity.

An Yi wiped his sweat.

This woman was unbelievable!

Her fiancé had just been killed, and now she wanted to get frisky?!

Did the bearded guy have some kind of unique taste?

"Stop this!"

An Yi firmly gripped Nako’s shoulders and spoke solemnly.

Mikawa Nako: "..."

Without hesitation, An Yi turned and walked away, leaving her with only his resolute back. "It’s late. Go rest."

Watching his retreating figure, Nako’s cheeks flushed with an unnatural shade of red.

"He’s not Ito Jiro."

She was certain now.

The real Ito Jiro—the bald, bearded simp who used to peek at her while she bathed—would never resist such temptation.

There were other inconsistencies too.

Only someone from the Shinobi Alliance would notice these subtle discrepancies in Ito Jiro’s behavior.

"What an interesting man... I like him."

Nako licked her lips, a twisted smile spreading across her face.

So what if he wasn’t the real Ito Jiro? She’d never been interested in that bald, bearded loser anyway.

---

Jiangbei City.

"Kim Jung-ho, are you sure those three are from the Asura Sect?"

A young man with a red bandana tied around his head and a hunting knife in hand frowned.

They were hiding in a small grove in front of the Huachuang Building in Jiangbei City.

With the expansion of An Corporation’s business, they’d taken over the entire building.

At the entrance, a one-eyed old monk yawned while fiddling with his prayer beads.

Inside, a luxurious carpet was sprawled with a lazy black dog, a plate of braised pork ribs beside it, and a tablet playing something.

The scene was bizarre.

In front of the gate, two identical bald young men paced back and forth, clearly on high alert.

"They don’t look like much, but that old monk is someone to watch out for," Kim Jung-ho said, twirling his short staff.

Tom tightened his red bandana, his smoky eyes filled with disdain. "Leave it to me. I’ll finish them in ten minutes."

Though young, Kim Jung-ho knew the kid had the skills to back up his arrogance.

Kim Jung-ho grinned, spinning his staff. "Remember, our real targets are the other assassins!"

"Relax!"

Tom smirked, then suddenly frowned. "For some reason, I feel like that dog’s staring at me."