Chapter 357: Assassination

The sky darkened as two black dots descended from afar, slowly landing amid the woods near the city of Shorehold.

They were two griffins, nearly identical in size.

Ramsey leapt from the griffin’s back and addressed Angus, captain of the Third Knight Order: “Wait here with the griffins.”

“Don’t we need to get any closer, Viscount Ramsey?” Angus gazed at the distant city—still a considerable distance from Shorehold’s castle.

“No. The closer we go, the more people there are. We’d be exposed.”

He was here for assassination. Not only must his face be concealed, but his movements must remain hidden.

Griffins were not common creatures.

If griffins appeared over Shorehold, the first name that would spring to mind would be Jesuus Auduin of Moonlight Valley.

And then Moonlight Valley would be irrevocably implicated in the assassination of Ronin.

That was why Ramsey had ordered the griffins to remain here—out of caution.

He changed into a coarse black linen tunic, slung the bundle containing his mask across his back, and stepped out of the woods toward Shorehold Keep.

Night fell.

After dinner with Ridal and the others, Ronin returned to his courtyard.

As a Meteor Knight, he now had access to the secret technique: “Scorching Ray.”

On the journey back from Goldfeather City, he had consulted Melornica on its cultivation.

For a secret technique born of two fused elements, mastery hinged on two things.

First: affinity. As Melornica put it, the ease or difficulty of mastering elemental power. The lower the affinity, the greater the chance of success.

Ronin’s affinity was Double Superb—no issue there.

Second: perseverance and resolve.

Learning a secret technique meant endless trial and failure. Lose heart after a few setbacks, and you’d never master it.

Over these past days, Ronin had followed Melornica’s guidance, attempting to fuse and compress the two types of aura.

Perhaps because he was a Grand Arcanist with extraordinary mental strength, his control over the two distinct auras was exceptional.

Now, he had already fused and compressed them into a spherical mass within his palm.

Though the sphere appeared harmless, its internal pressure was immense—once unleashed, its power would be devastating.

“Next,” Ronin mused, staring at the wind-and-fire fusion in his hand, “I must control it to erupt as an ultra-thin, ultra-fast, superheated beam.”

His thoughts drifted:

“If Scorching Ray is meant for long-range strikes… what if I hold this compressed wind-and-fire sphere in my palm and make the aura within spin at high speed? Could I use it for close-quarters combat?”

Ronin decided to try.

Whoosh—

The night wind suddenly intensified.

Ronin’s brow twitched.

His mental strength was extraordinarily high; even the faintest rustle escaped his perception.

Just now, he had sensed something… off in the wind.

“Could it be?” he wondered.

He instantly cast the Wind of Perception spell, and his vision shifted.

Within the elemental realm of wind, he perceived a shadow slipping into his courtyard.

Though he had not brought Tom or David with him, Ridal had assigned two guards at the courtyard gate, and patrols moved nearby.

This intruder had entered without announcement—beyond ill intent, he must possess formidable strength.

In his perception, the figure moved with eerie familiarity, ascending the stairs as if he knew every corner of the building.

“A man intimately acquainted with Shorehold Keep… a remnant of the Polanthe Thieves’ Guild?”

Ronin dismissed the Wind of Perception. His gaze fixed on the door—the intruder had reached the threshold.

“Whoever you are outside, since you’ve come, no need to hide. Enter.”

Outside, Ramsey had been about to peer cautiously into the room—when the words froze him.

He had slipped past every guard under the moon’s cover, using his superior skill—how had the man inside sensed him?

“Could this Ronin… possess some kind of sensing ability?”

Though puzzled, Ramsey’s confidence in his own prowess was unshakable. He stepped forward, appearing before the door.

Ronin’s eyes narrowed.

The figure was tall, clad in coarse black linen, his face obscured by a pitch-black dog-mask—identity unknown.

“How did you detect me?” The voice was gravelly, utterly unlike Ramsey’s natural tone.

“My hearing is extraordinary. Even the crawl of a cockroach is clear to me.”

Ronin rose to his feet. “Who are you?”

Ramsey chuckled coldly. He was certain of his silence—no one could have heard him. This must be some other trick.

“You’re remarkably composed. I must admire that. But don’t think you can stall me with chatter.”

Zzzt!

Ramsey vanished in an instant. The floor where he had stood cracked open in jagged fissures.

“I’m here to kill you!”

The next moment, he materialized beside Ronin, his blade slicing horizontally toward his neck.

“So fast!”

Ronin’s spirit tensed. The maneuver—Wind’s Instant Step, a seventh-tier wind technique—had granted that blinding speed.

His Flameblade snapped into his grip, meeting the strike with desperate force.

Ramsey sneered inwardly. Though rumors claimed Ronin had slain the Skull Society’s leader—the Golden Knight Mondo he’d encountered on the Screaming Sea—none of that mattered before a Meteor Knight. Resistance was futile.

The blade neared Ronin’s throat. Ramsey already envisioned blood spraying, head severed—

Then a sharp, piercing clang shattered his vision.

Clang!

His sword had been blocked.

“Impossible!”

His face paled. He hadn’t used his full strength—but even a Golden Knight couldn’t have stopped that blow. How?

“Surprised?”

Ronin twisted his blade, deflecting the sword and lunging for the mask, aiming to rip it away and see the face beneath. “Let me see who you are.”

“Dream on!”

Ramsey unleashed everything.

His entire body boiled like water in a cauldron. The sheer aura radiating from him whipped through the room like a gale, sending chairs, sofas, and furnishings crashing and clattering in every direction.

At the courtyard gate, the two guards heard the sound and turned back in surprise, gazing toward the second floor.

One guard ventured, “What’s going on? Could there be a woman in the Earl’s chamber?”

“Don’t be absurd,” the other snapped. “Which eye did you see the Earl bring a woman in? And would bringing a woman make this much noise?”

The second immediately dismissed it: “In my opinion, the Earl must be practicing swordplay inside.”

They both nodded in reluctant agreement, silently marveling at the nobility—practicing swordplay indoors without fear of damaging the expensive furnishings.

But soon, they sensed something was wrong.

A rapid succession of clashing blades rang out; the residual force of colliding aura shattered the windows and made the entire building tremble.

“No—this isn’t right!”

The guards widened their eyes: “The Earl is fighting!”

They drew their swords and rushed toward the building—when suddenly—

BOOM!

A searing flame tore clean through the roof and wall of the second floor, lancing into the night sky, illuminating the darkness.

The shockwave hurled the two guards backward, slamming them against the courtyard wall.

Their eyes filled with terror. They knew—this was no longer a level any mid-rank knight could comprehend.

“Quick! Go alert Lord Riedal!” (End of chapter)