Chapter 136: 136 Worth One Thousand Gold Coins

Chapter 136: Worth a Thousand Gold Coins

The heart-stopping assassination had, against all odds, passed without fatal consequence.

Rong Ning tucked the Flowing Flame Sword into his space ring. This battle had shown him clearly the extent of his own combat power.

Without ambush or lost initiative, with magic as an aid, he could defeat an ordinary Bronze-rank warrior.

“Master, are you unharmed?”

Chahar and the others rushed forward. “We’re deeply sorry—we couldn’t assist you in fighting.”

Rong Ning waved a hand. “Each to his duty. Know your place.”

He looked down at himself—dust and mud caked his skin, his sleeves torn by the blast’s residual force, his appearance thoroughly disheveled.

“Prepare hot water. I’ll wash and change clothes.”

Rong Ning said, “Chahar, gather your men and tidy my study. Don’t disturb the blueprints.”

“Yes, Master!”

Chahar clapped his hands. “Enough standing around! Those who cook, cook. Those who boil water, boil it. Move, everyone—get busy!”

The lord’s safety assured, the tension in the castle eased. One by one, servants and guards returned to their tasks.

Yet this assassination would be spoken of for a long, long time to come.

“Brother Rong Ning, are you alright?”

By the time Ai Lin arrived, most had dispersed.

Hearing her cautious voice, Rong Ning smiled. “Of course I’m fine. That assassin couldn’t kill me.”

He turned to look—and froze. Ai Lin was caked in dirt, a large smudge darkening her fair face. “What happened to you?”

She sniffled, tears welling, yet still smiling. “I went to find Knight Macken and fell on the way.”

A quiet warmth stirred in Rong Ning’s chest. He beckoned her over, gently ruffling her golden hair. “You’re too careless.”

“I was so scared,” Ai Lin admitted, still trembling.

Rong Ning wiped the tears from her eyes. “Believe me, Brother Rong Ning is invincible. Come—let Bella heat water. You need a bath. You look dreadful like this.”

In truth, the reactions of the servants, guards, and knights had moved him deeply.

Though their strength was weak, they had dared to rush forward to defend him. And that made them worthy.

The castle’s tension faded—but outside, unease was rising. The assassination had stirred many.

Official Wilson turned pale upon hearing the news. He nearly stumbled in his haste to arrive.

Everything he had came from the lord. If the lord fell, so would he.

Beyond Wilson, village heads, group leaders, and countless townsfolk gathered at the castle gates, seeking word.

Shanlin Town had finally found a good lord. They would not suffer him to be slain by some assassin.

Reluctantly, Rong Ning climbed the tower, raised a torch high, and declared his safety to the crowd—only then did they disperse.

After dinner, the hearth in the parlor blazed warmly.

Rong Ning, dressed in clean nightclothes, sat on the sofa and swiftly scanned the scrap of paper Macken had taken from the assassin.

It held little value—only a few terse lines:

> Assassinate Baron Rong Ning of Shanlin Town. Reward: one thousand gold coins. Beware—he is accompanied by a senior Bronze-rank knight of peak strength. Strike only when he is alone.

Rong Ning chuckled. “I’m only worth a thousand gold coins?”

“They don’t know your true level, Master,” Macken said.

Rong Ning tucked the note into his space ring. “Did you extract any other information?”

Macken shook his head helplessly. “This assassin was trained. His mouth is sealed. No matter how much David and I whipped him, he revealed nothing beyond his identity.”

Rong Ning frowned. “This one is more professional than Pedro. Then tell me—what of his identity?”

“He called himself ‘Shadow,’ a full member of the Skull Society.”

Macken continued: “According to him, the Skull Society was founded by the Black Gold Brotherhood—a killing guild targeting all nobles of Wushan Domain. Their goal: murder, chaos, and distraction—so the Brotherhood may expand its territory along the border, unnoticed.”

When nobles are busy with their own crises, who cares how much land the Black Gold Brotherhood seizes?

“Did he reveal the number of members—or the location of their base?”

Macken shook his head again. “He gave nothing.”

“Stubborn mouth.”

Rong Ning rose. “Take me to see him.”

In the northern outer bailey lay a damp underground chamber, once used to imprison servants. Since Rong Ning took the castle, it had lain unused.

Macken had repurposed it as a temporary cell.

Now, the assassin known as “Shadow” was bound to a post, his body crisscrossed with bloody gashes. The wound from Rong Ning’s blade had been bandaged, but blood had soaked through the linen.

He was truly pitiful—but not dead. Bronze-rank knights possessed far greater vitality than ordinary men.

Rong Ning rubbed his nose, sighing.

In any ordinary drama, he and Macken would be cast as villains.

But sometimes, against assassins, a little pressure is necessary.

“This chamber is too damp. Woton, fetch firewood from the kitchen. Warm the place up—for our ‘Lord Shadow.’”

Rong Ning added, “But keep it ventilated. Don’t suffocate him.”

The wounded assassin lifted his eyes, sneering coldly. “Save your petty tricks. I’ve told you all I will. What I won’t say—you’ll never pry from my lips.”

He assumed Rong Ning’s sudden concern for his comfort was a ploy to soften him.

“Still stubborn.”

Rong Ning kept his distance, smiling. “Could it be… I simply don’t want you to freeze to death?”

David raised his whip, ready to strike again—but Rong Ning stopped him.

“With men like this, brute force only hardens their resolve.”

“Please, Master, instruct us!” David pleaded.

Rong Ning crossed his arms, deep in thought.

He knew many tortures—tiger benches, branding irons—he’d seen them in countless historical dramas. But were they too cruel?

His gaze swept over the assassin’s wounds—and an idea struck.

“End the interrogation for tonight. Leave him hanging. If he grows too cold, wrap him in extra blankets. Let him rest.”

Rong Ning said, “Tomorrow, have the kitchen brew a pot of sweet syrup. Let it cool, then pour it over him. Then send the guards to find ant nests—bring me several.”

Though winter kept ants dormant, the castle had warm corners. There would be nests to find.

“Ants adore sweets. Imagine—the syrup seeping into his wounds, mingling with blood and flesh… the ants will swarm. Devour. Feast.”

Luo Ning grinned with bared teeth, the candlelight casting his smile into something profoundly sinister—David shuddered involuntarily at the sight.

The assassin, who had originally intended to ignore him, could not help but open his eyes in terror at the image Luo Ning had painted.

Luo Ning drawled, almost lazily: “Imagine it—thousands upon thousands of ants crawling over your wounds, inching forward as they gnaw, gnawing as they crawl. What would that feel like?”

“Pain? Or itch?”

His voice seemed to rise from the depths of hell, naturally frigid.

“I’ve heard ants’ jaws are tiny, yet their bite force is astonishing—I wonder how many bites a Bronze Knight’s body can withstand before it gives way?”

Those in the dark chamber felt their scalps prickle, unable to bear the thought of such a vision.

McKen and the others realized that, compared to the Lord’s interrogation methods, their whippings seemed ludicrously crude.

“Luo Ning, you—!”

The assassin panicked. His mind was now filled with ants devouring his flesh, sucking his blood—his scalp crawled with dread.

But Luo Ning cut him off first.

“You have the entire night to ponder it. Then tomorrow, you’ll experience it properly.”

He turned and walked out, calling back over his shoulder:

“Remember to light a fire in the room after you bring the ants in. Only when it’s warm will the little ones become lively and eager.”

“Y-yes… yes…” David replied, dazed and hollow-eyed.

(End of Chapter)