The Boss's Despicable Combat Tactics

In the forest.

A fierce wind howled, rustling the surrounding trees.

Crack!

A tree trunk as thick as a bowl snapped, revealing two figures locked in combat.

Sardokil gripped his cavalry saber, his attacks lightning-fast. The curved blade specialized in slashing strikes—light, agile, and deadly!

The whistling arcs of his blade carried a biting chill through the air.

In contrast, An Yi’s imposing zhanmadao (horse-chopping saber) looked mighty but was clearly at a disadvantage against such finesse.

Sssshink!

The curved blade evaded An Yi’s frontal strike and sliced straight toward his shoulder.

A spray of blood scattered!

Sardokil darted past effortlessly, his saber spinning midair before he caught it again, its edge gleaming coldly under the moonlight.

"The heavy blades of Yunchu Country are too crude—their techniques are laughably simplistic!"

Sardokil remarked casually.

His strength was comparable to the late Xujing stage.

From his perspective, the power An Yi had displayed so far posed no challenge at all.

What a waste of his long journey to Daxia!

An Yi tugged at his clothes, covering the wound.

Thanks to his Undying Martial Body, the injury had already healed—but he couldn’t let it be seen.

"Ito-sama!"

Mikawa Nako called softly from a safe distance, making no move to assist.

Back at the base, a crowd of assassins from the Raksha organization huddled together.

They were watching the live broadcast of An Yi and Sardokil’s duel through surveillance feeds.

"Place your bets! Boss or Sardokil—who’s taking this?"

"I’m putting mine on the Samoyed!"

"Same, all in on the Labrador!"

"Alaska’s one of the Twelve Chieftains—with the serum boost, he’s way too strong!"

"Come on, not a single bet on the Boss? What kind of odds are these?"

The assassins bickered and jeered.

They were a lawless bunch to begin with. Though An Yi was their leader, few truly respected him.

After all, compared to legends like the Poison Master Bob, the Mechanical Hand Gene, the Crippled Wolf Kim Jung-ho, or the Gunslinger Kevin…

There were plenty of more notorious killers around. Many still resented An Yi for ending up as their chief.

They wanted to see just what this ordinary-looking, bald, bearded man was capable of.

If An Yi died here at Sardokil’s hands, the Raksha organization might as well disband.

"Heh, don’t get too cocky!"

An Yi grinned at Sardokil, hefting his zhanmadao as his aura surged.

Truthfully, such a heavy weapon didn’t suit him.

If he kept relying on the bearded man’s amateurish skills, he’d be finished.

"Big talk!"

Sardokil’s curved blade flashed coldly as he slashed forward.

An Yi swung the zhanmadao in a sweeping horizontal strike!

Clang!

The massive saber clashed with the nimble blade—only to be cleanly severed!

The cut was razor-smooth.

Sardokil smirked.

But just as he pressed his advantage, a barrage of steel needles shot toward his face!

"Cheap shot!"

His sharp eyes flared with anger as he hastily raised his saber to deflect the needles.

Then—

A cloud of crimson smoke billowed down, enveloping him.

"Poison!"

Sardokil’s expression darkened. He clamped a hand over his mouth and nose, blocking the toxic fumes.

An Yi smirked and snapped his fingers. A spark ignited.

Suddenly—

Flames erupted, engulfing everything.

Scarlet fire roared to life!

The inferno swallowed Sardokil whole.

The battle had turned in an instant.

Before Sardokil could react, he was already trapped in the blaze.

"The toxin’s stronger now!"

His face twisted in pain.

The ignited red smoke acted like acid—wherever it touched skin, it burned and itched as if countless ants were gnawing at his flesh.

Clang!

At the last second—

Sardokil’s instincts kicked in. He caught a hidden projectile between his teeth mid-flame.

A kunai!

"Pah!"

He spat it out immediately.

But just that brief contact—

His lips had swollen like sausages, all traces of his earlier composure gone.

"What kind of poison is this?!"

So potent!

Before he could process it, a spine-chilling sense of danger prickled his skin.

A longsword thrust toward his back!

"Fck!"

Sardokil dodged—but not fast enough. A dagger pierced through his lung.

"Cough—!"

Staggering out of the fire, he gasped for air, feeling as if he’d narrowly escaped death.

His exposed skin was corroded, raw and bloody. His chest dripped crimson.

From afar, the kunoichi Mikawa Nako watched in shock, covering her mouth.

"This…

is too underhanded!"

If she’d only suspected before, she was now absolutely certain—

This man was definitely not Ito Jiro!

Back at the base, the assassins were stunned by An Yi’s dirty tactics.

None had ever seen such shameless combat.

"Damn, that’s ruthless! I love it!"

"Hahaha, that’s our Boss for you!"

"New bets! I’m putting 2K on the Boss and the rest on the Samoyed!"

Despite An Yi’s cunning, they still didn’t believe he’d win.

Back on the battlefield—

"Tsk tsk. Really? This is all Alaska, one of the Twelve Chieftains of Heaven, has got?"

An Yi twirled his dagger with a carefree smirk, eyeing Sadochil with amusement.

Sadochil’s sharp gaze locked onto An Yi.

To him, this kid’s skills were mediocre at best.

Yet, his underhanded tricks never ended!

Just now, he’d let his guard down.

"Kid, you’ve got nerve—forcing me to use this!"

Sadochil pulled out a syringe and injected it into his arm.

Indescribable ecstasy!

Raw power surged through his veins, his muscles burning with intensity.

His heart pounded like a war drum, blood roaring through every artery!

But then—a searing, unbearable pain erupted from his waist, growing sharper by the second.

Sadochil glanced down.

A combat knife was buried deep in his side, blood gushing out like a broken faucet.

Fury ignited in his chest.

"This bastard! Absolute scum!"

Even during an injection, the kid had to stab him in the back?!

An Yi tilted his head, feigning innocence. "Why didn’t you dodge?"

Clang!

Sadochil yanked the knife from his kidney and hurled it onto the pavement, his face darkening.

"The Black Panther’s strength… impressive."

He grinned, crouching low like a predator coiled to strike, murder in his eyes.

"Against true power, all your tricks are worthless."

An Yi remained unfazed as Sadochil charged.

Meanwhile, the assassins in the base caught on.

"Something’s off. As one of the Twelve Leaders, shouldn’t Sadochil have access to pure-grade serum?"

One assassin voiced the doubt, turning to Kevin the Gunslinger—the only among them who’d completed a high-difficulty mission for the Paradise Organization and earned a flawed dose.