Chapter 8: This Is Your Reward

Aren’t villains in novels supposed to rant for ages before making a move? Why did this guy try to kill me after saying only one sentence?

“You damn dog, you have no sense of honor!” Qin Chuan cursed indignantly.

At the same time, his feet seemed to be fitted with springs as he bounced sideways, dodging six or seven meters away. The middle-aged man’s dagger stabbed nothing but air, shock written all over his face. His ghostly footwork had assassinated countless targets before, yet now a young man had evaded so effortlessly—he could hardly accept it.

“Let’s see how long you can keep dodging,” the man sneered coldly, launching another attack.

He pushed off the ground, shooting forward like an arrow, closing the distance in the blink of an eye. At some point, a dagger had appeared in his left palm. The left-hand dagger lunged at Qin Chuan’s heart, the right-hand dagger slid toward his throat—the movements were fluid, seamless, as if he’d rehearsed them countless times.

“You’re too slow!” Qin Chuan dodged lightly again.

“Damn it!” After several failed attempts, the man was visibly enraged. “If you’ve got guts, stop dodging like a coward. Dare to fight me head-on?”

“Such a low-level provocation.” Qin Chuan grinned mockingly, then changed his tone. “But I’ll play along. Go ahead, attack—this time, I won’t dodge.”

“You’d better keep your word!” The man pounced again, like a fierce mountain cat—though his thin build was anything but tiger-like.

Both daggers aimed straight for Qin Chuan’s shoulder blades, swift as lightning, closing in instantly.

“Good speed and strength this time,” Qin Chuan commented, unmoving, his tone almost like a critic, nearly causing the man to spit blood in rage.

Contempt—pure, naked contempt!

“You’re asking for death!” The man was furious now, increasing his strength, determined to stab Qin Chuan through.

But as the daggers drew within two or three inches of Qin Chuan’s skin, they stopped abruptly. The man raised his brows, only to find both blades firmly pinched between Qin Chuan’s fingers.

“How is this possible?” His face was filled with disbelief. He knew precisely how much force he’d used—enough to dent special steel plates. How could anyone stop that with bare flesh?

“Hey!” The man grunted, trying to exploit his downward momentum to force the daggers in.

No matter how hard he tried, the blades wouldn’t budge. Qin Chuan’s fingers were like iron pincers, locking them in place.

“You’ve attacked long enough. It’s my turn now,” Qin Chuan said with a sunny smile.

Seeing that radiant grin, the man suddenly had a very bad feeling.

Clang! Clang!

A moment later, two metallic snaps rang out as both daggers were broken in Qin Chuan’s hands.

Almost simultaneously, Qin Chuan kicked the man in the abdomen.

Bang!

The man felt as though he’d been hit by a speeding truck, a searing pain stabbing through his gut, sending him flying backward.

Swish!

Qin Chuan flashed forward, overtaking the man’s airborne body, and stabbed repeatedly with the broken blades.

“Mm!” The man grunted. He felt several shallow wounds from the broken blades, but for some reason, Qin Chuan hadn’t stabbed deep.

But the cold, sticky sensation of blood told him his skin had been pierced.

As the man tried to make sense of it, he felt his body, still parallel to the ground, suddenly struck downward with immense force.

Like a cannonball, he crashed heavily to the ground, his body feeling as if it had fallen apart, pain radiating everywhere.

Dust swirled, mocking his overconfidence.

“You’ve died five times already,” came a cold, mocking voice. The man saw flashes of cold light, then both broken blades plunged into the ground beside his head.

They were the same daggers Qin Chuan had snapped moments ago.

The man was thunderstruck. He quickly checked himself—sure enough, blood seeped from both temples, throat, heart, and abdomen, all wounds inflicted while he was still airborne.

Judging by the force that drove the broken blades into the ground, if Qin Chuan had used his full strength with those earlier strikes, he would indeed have died five times over.

Compared to the young man before him, he was simply not in the same league.

“What kind of terrifying existence did that bastard Guo provoke?” The man mentally cursed Guo Zikun’s ancestors eighteen generations back.

“What caliber are you, playing at assassination?” Qin Chuan sneered.

Old Xue squeezed his eyes shut, looking like a pig resigned to slaughter. “I admit defeat. If you want to kill me, make it quick!”

“Why don’t you play by the rules, as a proper villain should? First you didn’t rant, now you won’t kneel and beg for mercy with tearful eyes. How’s a hero supposed to deal with you?” Qin Chuan looked both disappointed and angry at his lack of cooperation.

Old Xue’s mouth twitched violently. The last shred of pride as a top killer made him retort, “I know better than anyone that villains die from talking too much.”

“No, no, no!” Qin Chuan wagged his finger, correcting him seriously. “In fact, whether a villain dies has nothing to do with how much they talk. What matters is the protagonist’s strength.”

That actually made sense—Old Xue was momentarily speechless.

“How about this: tell me who sent you, and I’ll let you live,” Qin Chuan suddenly offered.

Old Xue shook his head firmly, resolute as a martyr.

Qin Chuan stroked his chin, admiringly, “So even now you strictly follow the assassin’s code—never reveal the employer. Just for that, I won’t kill you today.”

“Really?” Old Xue’s eyes brimmed with surprise and delight. Who wants to die if they can live?

Qin Chuan nodded, then changed his tone, “How about I hire you to teach a lesson to the one who wants me dead? That won’t break any rules, right?”

“No, it won’t!” Old Xue paused, uncertain. “But… you’d really pay me?”

That Qin Chuan would spare him was incredible enough, but to offer a reward as well? It sounded like pure fantasy.

“Of course! You’d rather die than break the code, and as a model member of the martial world, I wouldn’t dream of breaking it either. Here, this is your reward.”

Before he finished speaking, Old Xue saw Qin Chuan laboriously fish out a crumpled fifty-cent note from his pocket and hand it over.