The Eagle's Nest, headquarters of the Hashashin order of assassins, was a fortress located deep in the mountains, known for being easy to defend and difficult to attack.
Here, the environment was excellent, and the food, clothing, and other necessities were all top-notch. This was for no other reason than that it was the premier assassin training base.
In the year 1084 AD, the high-ranking Egyptian minister Hassan was driven out of Egypt after the eldest prince he supported failed in his bid for the throne. But this old man, who had spent his life navigating the corridors of power, had long since paved a way for his own future.
The ambitious old man Marcel had just seen was him.
He was now known as the "Old Man of the Mountain," leading the entire Isma'ili sect, and was attempting to overthrow the Seljuk dynasty. It could be said that although the man was old, his heart was still full of ambition.
Marcel rode his horse along the mountain path, looking back. The Eagle's Nest shone brightly in the morning sun, as dazzling as a morning star.
He did not yet know the contents of the mission, but it was nothing more than assassinating a certain individual. Although he still hadn't figured out Rowena's intentions, nor was he sure if he could bring himself to kill someone, he had no choice but to continue.
"Since I was given a mission as soon as I arrived, following the mission should be the right path,"Marcel thought to himself.
The memories that had inexplicably flooded into his mind were not chaotic. This assassin named "Al-Ani" was one of the first assassins of the Hashashin. In addition to some basic assassination techniques, what surprised Marcel the most was the mixture of some light magical knowledge.
"'Swiftness,' 'Silence,' 'Focus'... these are all crude applications of rules," Marcel thought, dividing his attention between getting used to the horse and sorting through his thoughts.
"...Is Rowena telling me how to use the rules?"
Perhaps this was also one of Rowena's intentions. After all, these applications were all based on "will." If no one taught him, trying to learn them would be extremely difficult.
But right now, Marcel could clearly feel how to use them.
The horse was fast, but even so, it took time. Several days later, Marcel finally arrived at his destination.
He led the horse to the stable of an inn, fed it some fodder and water, and then walked towards the poorer district on the outer edge of the city. The meeting point was in a basement there.
Using a complex and rhythmic knock as a secret signal, Marcel was smoothly led into the basement by his contact.
"Under the command of the Old Man of the Mountain, guardian of the secret. This is proof of the mission."
In the dim basement, the air was turbid, and the corners of the walls were damp, covered with stains and mottled patches.
He handed the parchment scroll to the man sitting behind the table. After confirming the wax seal, the man gently opened it and read it.
"Respected Guardian, this is the mission we have requested. Please ensure it is completed cleanly," the man said respectfully. "Everything for the faith!"
"For the faith!"
Marcel echoed casually, took the stack of documents, and then decisively turned and left.
The objective of the mission was not complicated, but in any case, assassinating a person of status was undoubtedly a very difficult task.
The target was a high-ranking Sunni cleric, who also held some power in the dynasty. Marcel mulled it over and chose the target's home as the location.
The information on the target was already very complete, including when he would appear where, what he did every day, and even detailed maps of various locations.
But accidents were always inevitable. Being careful was the key.
A few days later...
Marcel had been squatting diagonally opposite the target's mansion for more than three hours. He hid himself high up, carefully observing from behind the dense canopy of a tree. Occasionally, a gust of wind would blow, shaking the branches and dispelling the stuffiness in the air.
Dark clouds were faintly spreading towards them from the horizon. It looked like there would be a heavy rain tonight.
"The situation today is not bad. I've pretty much figured out the guard deployment in the mansion. I can make my move."
Marcel touched the dagger in his robes, a hint of hesitation flashing in his eyes.
To be frank, he still had doubts about this whole assassination business. He didn't know what his own reaction would be. And the new memories in his mind were so bloody they made him feel a little nauseous.
"If this goes on for too long, I'm afraid I'll be affected..." Marcel couldn't help but sigh.
Another two hours passed, and the sky had gradually darkened. The target had also returned to the mansion. He was currently bathing and should be going to his bedroom to rest soon.
Marcel waited a little longer, then drew his dagger and held it tightly in his hand.
The time had come. No matter what, it was time to act.
The infiltration process was unexpectedly smooth. It could be said that the training had almost become second nature to this body.
He moved agilely along the wall. The effect of "Silence" made him move without a sound. He quickly scaled the wall to the inside.
"There's a few minutes' gap in the patrol. This is easy."
Long-term training had made this body's physical fitness and explosive power quite outstanding. With just a few steps, he pushed off the ground and directly climbed the wall to a second-floor windowsill.
Using a tool to pry open the bolt on the inside of the window, he peeked inside, then immediately rolled in, landing steadily in the corridor.
After a good while, the second patrol team passed by downstairs. He had not alerted anyone.
The bedroom was at the far right of the corridor. The target was still in the bathroom. Marcel ran silently through the corridor, as swift as a cheetah hunting in the dark.
The bedroom was large, but there were not many places to hide. Marcel looked around and happened to find a hidden door under the bed.
"No wonder the structure of the first floor seemed a bit strange. So there's a hidden space here."
Opening this hidden door required moving the bed. Marcel decided not to act rashly for now. He would see if he had a chance after completing the mission.
He hid himself in the narrow space behind the bed, waiting for the target's arrival.
As it turned out, his timing was perfect. Before long, the target pushed the door open, his fat body shaking as he immediately lay down on the bed and fell asleep.
"And that's why drinking can lead to trouble."
After the target was fast asleep, Marcel quietly approached the bed, holding the sharp dagger.
But when it was time to strike, he froze, just as he had expected.
The blade of the dagger was held虚 over the target's neck. As it moved forward inch by inch, a cold glint flashed on the blade. The luster faintly showed a dark blue hue, clearly coated with a potent poison.
"Do I really have to do this? Is it necessary?" Facing an unarmed person, with just a slight push of the blade, even the mixed snake venom on it could quickly take his life.
Such a simple action, yet it made Marcel's whole body stiffen.
"Is it necessary?" Marcel asked himself again, but he could never find the answer.
Time passed bit by bit. The target was still fast asleep, but Marcel, the assassin, had beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
The weather was still very hot. Outside the window, the sky was covered with dark clouds, and the air was so stuffy it almost made one faint.
BOOM!
A flash of lightning streaked across the clouds outside, illuminating Marcel's face at that moment—his expression was full of struggle.
CRACK!
Another flash of lightning. The target seemed to have been disturbed and moved, frowning. But this chubby middle-aged man could never have imagined that this slight movement would be what cost him his life.
Almost instinctively, he swung. Fresh blood spurted from the throat like a fountain. The man struggled for a few moments, but Marcel's gloved left hand was pressed firmly over his mouth. The immense strength made it impossible for him to move.
Soon, all that was left on the bed was a cold corpse and an assassin whose whole body was stiff.
BOOM!
A third bolt of lightning tore across the night sky, illuminating the entire mansion, and also the crimson blood that covered the bed in the bedroom.
The feeling was truly indescribable. Although he had seen death before, the sensation of doing it himself was something one would never forget. It was a long time before Marcel gradually came back to his senses.
"What a terrible assassination," he said with a wry smile, looking at the stains on his body. "If this were judged by the training standards, it would be an obvious failure."
Although it was a failure, he hadn't made any noise just now. Marcel pushed the bed a few inches, and then heard a slight click—the hidden door opened.
It was a small secret room, only large enough for one person to enter hunched over. Inside were a large number of gold and silver valuables, as well as many secret documents.
Marcel casually picked up a few documents and looked at them, but found they were not of much use.
The people of the Eagle's Nest were never short of money. What's more, the one now hiding in this body was Marcel. Even if he took it, it would probably be useless.
"What's this?"
Suddenly, Marcel caught sight of a tightly bound box.
He used his dagger to cut the overlapping ropes and opened the box to find an Arabian-style dagger.
But this dagger was clearly unusual. There were wisps of transparent fluctuations on it, and it faintly exuded a secretive and obscure aura, looking very mysterious.
Marcel did not touch it rashly, but he couldn't see anything just by looking.
But just because he didn't touch it, didn't mean he really could.
An inexplicable force welled up in Marcel's heart, invisibly compelling him to reach for the hilt of the dagger. Even though he reacted quickly, his will to resist was useless. At this moment, his hand was not under his control.
The moment he touched the dagger, a cold sensation spread from his fingertips throughout his body. The feeling was indescribable. Although it was not painful, it was very uncomfortable.
At this moment, he had not yet noticed anything strange. He just felt that the chilling sensation of the blade slicing across a person's neck had vanished in an instant.
Suddenly, Marcel's vision blurred. When his sight cleared again, he found that the scene had once again returned to the "Old Man of the Mountain's" room in the Eagle's Nest.
"...Alani, this mission will be extremely difficult. You must prepare meticulously."
The old man still had his back to him, his voice still low and slow, but the stoop of his back was noticeably more pronounced. Several years had probably passed since the last time.
"Yes," Marcel felt his own tone had become much colder.
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