Sam Chang, non-professional killer, parentheses, stable

This world truly had immortals, they were not just legends.

Zhang San understood this at a very young age.

He remembered it was at the reed marsh by the river near his home when he was just a little kid. Zhang San was hiding in the reed marsh to slack off and avoid being sent by his parents to do hard labor.

That day in the reed marsh, Zhang San vaguely woke up from his nap. Just as he was about to get up, a gust of wind blew over and knocked little Zhang San over.

Zhang San looked up afterwards, only to see two people standing on the water surface of the river!

One wore white clothes, the other wore black. The two traversed the river while exchanging moves, battling. As the two unceasingly emitted their inner force, it seemed like the entire river would be destroyed by them at any moment.

At that time, Zhang San hiding in the reed marsh was already extremely lucky, after all, he witnessed with his own eyes a fisherman who was fishing nearby, beaten to death by the palm force released during the two's fight, right onto the river bank!

From the occasional words exchanged between the two during their fight, Zhang San knew that both were masters of the Martial World, one the Leader of the Black Sect, the other the Leader of the White Sect, who knew each other deeply. Meeting here today, they were naturally exceptionally furious upon seeing their enemy.

After a day and night of intense battle, the one dressed in black, the Leader of the Black Sect, prevailed. The Leader of the White Sect painfully died in the river.

At the same time, the river and the surrounding river banks were also completely destroyed.

Just as the Leader of the Black Sect was laughing loudly, believing that from now on the world would revere him.

Zhang San, who had been watching from the side in the reed marsh, was very troubled that there might be no fish to eat in the future, and was also somewhat afraid of the corpse in the river. But at the same time, the Leader of the Black Sect suddenly discovered Zhang San out of the corner of his eye.

Seeing Zhang San, the Leader of the Black Sect revealed a frightening smile.

That was possibly the first time Zhang San experienced what fear was in his life, far exceeding the fear of being dragged by his parents to do hard labor.

Then, that fisherman who was beaten to death earlier suddenly stood up from the pool of blood!

Then, the Leader of the Black Sect was shocked, and flew over next to the fisherman, furiously asking him who exactly he was.

Then, the Leader of the Black Sect was clubbed to death by that fisherman with a fishing rod.

That's right, clubbed to death with a fishing rod.

That fisherman afterwards collected his fishing rod, also somewhat surprised himself saying: "Ah? Dead just like that? Mortals are truly too fragile. What a waste of my tranquil fishing spot for practicing mind.

"Nowadays, even when I'm willing to pretend to be dead, you still don't leave and even want to kill a child. Ah, I wonder if I'm in the middle of transcending the mortal world?"

"Looks like I'll have to find another place again."

Having said that, the fisherman leapt upwards, stepping on the clouds and left.

...

...

That memory followed Zhang San for twenty years of his assassin career. Whenever he recalled it, he felt that the Leader of the Black Sect was truly stupid.

Why did he think he could casually approach the other party just because he thought the other was a fisherman?

Even if the other party wasn't an immortal, couldn't he still be another expert in disguise? Then deliberately pretend to be dead and suddenly ambush you when you're exhausted?

Zhang San believed that if after the Leader of the Black Sect killed the White Sect Leader that he was familiar with, he immediately escaped, perhaps that immortal would have been too lazy to chase and club him to death with a fishing rod.

Moreover, Zhang San believed the most crucial point was also what he had always wanted to say to the Leader of the Black Sect, that is...

Big bro, aren't you the Leader of our Black Sect!

Why are you fiercely fighting the White Sect head on? And from how you two fought for a whole day, your opponent isn't weaker than you at all!

Can't you just greet each other and bid farewell, then secretly tail and find a chance to strike?

Aren't we of the Black Sect! Yet when doing black sect things you insist on having a fair duel with others? Are my Black Sect's three secret weapons - poisoning, ambushing, and lime powder not useful?

Even if you can't bid each other greet and farewell, couldn't you just say "I'm not feeling well today, I'll take my leave first."? In short, if you wanted to leave, there were always ways. Why insist on fiercely fighting an expert on par with yourself?

Zhang San believed that if the Leader of the Black Sect chose underhanded methods or to not fight, he wouldn't have that fierce battle at that river. Without that fierce battle, he wouldn't have met that immortal. Without meeting the immortal, wouldn't he have lived?

To this day, Zhang San still doesn't understand how that retard managed to become the Leader of the Black Sect.

The subordinates that allowed this kind of retard to become Leader must have been extremely kind people!

Speaking of which, if those subordinates were so kind, why did they join the black sect?

There truly are many bizarre things in this world.

But back to the main point. Zhang San believed that the Leader of the Black Sect's true cause of death was...not being steady enough!

Steadiness, that was truly the most crucial trait for every profession.

Especially for the assassin profession:

Steadiness was professional ethics, steadily killing the target and being responsible to the middleman and client!

Steadiness was being responsible for one's own life, not allowing oneself to fall into danger!

Steadiness was being responsible for one's own stomach, because this was the craft of feeding oneself!

If doing black sect things, one had to be steady.

If being an assassin, one must be extremely steady!

...

...

On a night, in a dilapidated house, a Scholar said: "To survive or perish, that is the question."

Zhang San dressed in night raid clothes said: "That's a nonsense question. Of course it's surviving!"

The Scholar looked at Zhang San and said: "Is it to silently endure the violent arrows of fate, or to stand up and revolt against the endless misery of the mortal world?"

Zhang San glanced at the Scholar's tattered clothes, sympathizing: "You do live quite miserably."

"To sweep them away through struggle, these two..."

Before the Scholar could finish speaking, Zhang San simply killed him with a slash.

Looking at the target that finally shut up, dead in a pool of blood, Zhang San couldn't help but think: Although the jobs were all introduced through a middleman, I suspect the one who hired me to kill you must have talked with you quite a lot.

After all, if someone chattered incessantly by my ear like this Scholar everyday, Zhang San believed he would likely become the first assassin in the world to be hired by himself.

However, through this assassination, Zhang San suddenly realized an extremely, extremely serious issue!

In the Martial World, martial artists have their martial arts separated into the 'Heaven', 'Earth', and 'Man' tiers. And Zhang San who had just recently trained his Qinggong lightness skill to the 'Heaven' tier sensed in this assassination mission that he had likely...become aberrant!

That's right, he, Zhang San, had actually become aberrant!

Zhang San who claimed to be the most steady top assassin of Dawu Country's Martial World actually felt that he himself had become aberrant. Then, he believed anyone could understand just how serious an issue he now faced!

The reason was simple. Because he had actually talked with his target!

He had talked with his target!!!

Moreover, it was fi... no, four and a half sentences!

Good heavens, that was a whole four and a half sentences. If the other party was actually a disguised expert, wouldn't Zhang San be dead already?!

Even if this Scholar had a sallow complexion, seeming as if he hadn't eaten for two days, and long term malnutrition.

Even if his arms were slender like a young girl's.

Even if his clothes were tattered like a poor scholar!

Even if the well water that this destitute Scholar drank today was spiked countless times by him with croton bean powder.

How could he, Zhang San, have done something so aberrant as to talk with his target, and even say four and a half sentences?!