Money can make the devil turn the grindstone.
With one thousand taels of gold laid before them, no matter how dangerous it may be, there's never a shortage of desperados willing to risk their lives.
A punch was thrown, and the face of a Jianghu Guest shattered before Chen Yi's eyes.
"Trouble yourself to recite the Rebirth Mantra."
Chen Yi spoke as yet another blade came slashing from behind him.
As if he could foresee it, his hands raised effortlessly, slipping past the blade's edge and gripping the assassin's arm. A casual twist followed—the sound of a joint dislocating accompanied a scream, and the assassin's head was forcefully smashed into the ground amidst panic.
Blood spattered from the fractured skull. Within the inn, the gathered Jianghu Guests were struck with terror.
The high monk from the Western Regions saw the bloody scene and shook his head in disapproval.
