Biyu City belongs to the dark night, and at this point, the killers in the stone castle on the mountain and the revelers in the southern city below the mountain have the same idea, and the northern city that is sandwiched in the middle of the normal routine is the freak.

He stood on top of the towering boundary wall between the north and the south, and looked at the north city, his heart was full of contempt, the rich and weak were cowering here, sitting on the empty mountain, and when they had nothing, they would be thrown into the south city and devoured by a group of wild beasts with sharp teeth and claws.

Competition is always cruel, and it is better to risk your life to participate early than to have illusions and hide from one thing at a time.

He glanced at Nancheng again, silently experiencing the pleasure of condescending and looking down on all beings, for him, the casinos, courtyards, and taverns dotted around were nothing more than rich bait, specializing in attracting fat prey from all corners of the world.

Nancheng is a hunting ground, and the most exciting thing is that he is not the only hunter.

Killing and being killed, there is no more wonderful pair of lovers, and he is excited at the thought that there may be some pair of eyes staring at him in the dark.

For the ignorant prey, the killing was orderless, as if the spirit of fatigue had inexplicably landed on someone's head.

In the eyes of hunters who are always vigilant, it is the opposite, the chaotic southern city is in order, and different areas and different routes are adapted to different hunters.

First-timers choose the streets where the taverns are concentrated, and the swordsmen who come out of them are paralyzed and confused, and either rush to the casino in search of good luck again, or pounce on the gentle cave with their mouths wide open, they are the easiest prey to get hold of, enough to satisfy those who pick up a sword for the first time.

He completed this stage early.

The Progressives stay in the vicinity of Liuren Alley and the big casinos, and in this city of the jungle, the best people are usually the easiest to get rich overnight, and they can't wait to spend a lot of money, sleep with the most expensive women, bet the biggest, and always be surrounded by a pack of twinkling jackals, waiting for the scraps to be left.

It is somewhat difficult to assassinate such a person, and if you are not careful, you will miss and become a stepping stone for a well-known swordsman, but if you succeed, you can get greater satisfaction.

He completed this stage a month ago.

In the process, the clever assassin develops a ghostly eyesight, loses interest in unsuspecting prey, and moves to the village of Knifeke, on the edge of the city.

The village of swordsmen is a mixed place, crowded with defeated, mediocre, ignorant, new swordsmen, and occasionally, there will be a real swordsman in the middle, this kind of swordsman still maintains self-control and vigilance, does not drink much, women only attract his attention when they need to be strong, no matter when and where, there is always a hand ready to draw the knife.

Such a swordsman is a bridge between the prey and the hunter, and with a single turn of thought, it is possible to change identities and assassinate them, not only a success, but also an honor.

Standing on the boundary wall, he had just completed this stage, and he had contempt for certain competitors in his heart, these cowards entered the village of swordsmen, but only dared to assassinate drunkards who vomited on the wall, greatly reducing the level of hunters.

Tonight, he changed places again, ready to hunt hunters like himself.

Ordinary prey can no longer arouse his excitement.

It was a new stage, and just by staying here, he could feel the tension and excitement of his first hunt.

It was too early, and he waited patiently, waiting for the other hunters to pass by with their blood stained, while allowing himself a little distraction to fantasize about the final stage of the assassination.

The hunting grounds are home to a group of brutal gods who make rules and manipulate fate, like lambs, eagles perched high on cliffs, and hunters who creep upwards with the ultimate goal of devouring them.

Swords, courtyard walls, bodyguards, stone forts, and armies are just a cliff that grows taller than a cliff, and they will eventually come to an end, and the poisonous snake that has climbed halfway through it will never stop there, and in its belly, mortal flesh and bone are digesting, and it can no longer satisfy its growing appetite.

It will swallow God, it will become God.

He slowly lowered himself on the ramparts, and the viper had to remain hidden in the shadows before becoming a god.

A carriage drove out of the chaotic streets of the southern city and headed straight for the northern city, the sound of horses' hooves drowned out in the noise of indulgence, but he could hear it clearly as he crouched above the boundary wall.

The only passage between the north and south cities has long been closed, and to enter the north city at this time must be close to the "god" level of the big man, and it is also an excellent bait to attract hunters.

He is not the only one with poisonous snakes climbing upwards, and other hunters are gradually raising their level, which is the real reason for the slow decline in assassinations, and has nothing to do with the troops stationed outside the city.

For this moment, he had been observing for several nights, and he was very sure that there was a colleague with superb skills who was going to make a move at the junction of the North and South Cities, he had never seen this colleague, not even the vague figure that swept by, but he was extremely sure of this person's existence.

The carriage drove up the boundary bridge without slowing down, and the guards of the city gate obviously knew that such a distinguished guest had entered the city in the middle of the night, so they opened the door and stood respectfully on both sides, never daring to look at the passenger's credentials.

Assassination is so insignificant compared to war, there is no vigorous golden drum and earth-shattering shouts, there is no smoke and dust that covers the sky and there is so much cheap blood, it does not last from morning to night, the assassination is only a moment, it does not prepare for the person concerned, it does not leave an impression on the audience, it leaves all the glory after the fact.

But a great assassination can still have a great effect, and he thought with the last bit of idle thought on the city wall, and then reined in all his emotions, leaving only a cold will to kill, and the truth is applicable to any profession.

As the carriage went on, the twelve low-eyed guards thought the night was coming to an end, that the rest of the day would be spent in sleep, and that by the time they realized that they were no longer wrong, it was already too late.

The carriage passed through the city gate, but something fell from behind it, and before it had gone far, another thing fell.

"Corpses!" one of the guards cried out, and in unison with his companions unsheathed his sword, chasing the unbelievable horseman.

An assassination attempt in the South City affected the North City in this way.

Its influence was still fermenting, and it could not spread quickly, and the shouts of the twelve guards could not destroy the silence of the northern city, let alone the noise of the southern city.

Only on the city walls did he see the Assassin, an admirable hunter.

The Assassin had been hiding under the bridge for a long time, and the moment the carriage drove by, he jumped out, crossed the carriage, and returned to the bridge, all in the process that took only eight hooves to land.

The Assassin deliberately landed the corpse at the gate to attract the attention of the guards, and then sprang out from under the bridge again, crawling towards the boundary wall, like a giant black gecko.

His position was not particularly ideal, a dozen steps away from where the Assassins had come up, which deprived him of the opportunity to sneak attack.

So what, he has never been a pure killer, of course he will start when he has the opportunity, and he will only take it as a challenge if he doesn't have the opportunity.

The weapon was long since unsheathed, propelled by his entire body, stabbing out like a serpent's letter.

The Assassin sensed the danger and returned to block with his weapon.

The guards at the gate had just stopped the carriage, and no one looked back, so that no one could see a scene on the boundary wall, which would not have been mentioned in the street talk afterwards: two poisonous snakes stabbed each other in the simplest, most primitive and swiftest way, once, twice, and ended the battle on the third.

Both figures were lying on the wall and were stationary.

The groom was yelling in terror, but the guards finally came to their senses, and a few men took control of the groom, a few got on their horses to report the news to their superiors, and a few ran to the city gate, where they had a premonition that the assassination had taken place on the bridge.

It was these guards who saw the strange scene with their own eyes: a third corpse fell like a brick from the top of the wall, as if it was a precursor to the imminent collapse of the entire boundary wall.

He succeeded, he vanished, he killed a hunter and took another big step forward on the cliffs of the Devouring God, in the upper reaches of the hunting chain.

Excitement burns like fire, he is not a pure killer, so he doesn't care, and even hopes that it burns a little more, and those who have abused, despised, and bullied him will be reduced to ashes in this raging fire.

Yes, he wants revenge, revenge, but he will not kill the enemy in one move, he will stand on the highest point, and let the enemy experience all the sorrow he has experienced in trembling.

Who will know if I am a man or a woman? Who cares if I use a sword or a sword? All beings need to know is that I am a killer, and I am a snake that devours gods.

Soon, he will shed his humble skin and reveal his noble true face.

He was so happy that he ignored the other vipers.

The blow came suddenly, as he walked through the winding alleys of the southern city, an area inhabited by small traders, a brave group of men who collected scattered gold and silver in the Killing Grounds, and a silent group of people who walked away when they earned enough and never talked about the city.

The hunters could not find a worthy prey here, but he was attacked here.

He drew his weapon, but his movements were still one step slower than the alertness in his heart.

He felt the sharpness of the fangs, and he knew that he was not the most powerful hunter, and what kind of blow the enemy had delivered, as if it had come from the void, as if there was no one with a sword, and it appeared so abruptly in his body.

He held his weapon tightly, gave up the fight back at the last moment, did not even look for the trace of the enemy, lowered his body, tried his best to escape, the feeling of being killed filled his heart, very different from his initial expectations, did not bring any excitement, just the most ordinary fear and self-pity, he desperately wanted to find a quiet place to lick his wounds.

The ambition of devouring gods and revenge vanished at once, and I don't know how long it would take to recondense and take shape.

With no tracker behind them, the sneak attacker seems accustomed to making only one move.

The night was dark, and the sleeping people and the revelers had no way of knowing the hunter's thoughts, let alone the death of a great man that would affect their lives early tomorrow morning.

(Ask for subscription, ask for recommendation) (To be continued.) )