CHAPTER 1 — "THE ASSASSIN WHO DEFIED DEATH"
Night bled across the ruined district, smoke drifting like ghostly threads between broken buildings. The ground trembled with distant explosions, though the battlefield itself had fallen eerily silent.
Silent—except for the sound of pursuit.
Long Hao sprinted across rubble-strewn concrete, his boots kicking up dust as he darted into the open. His breath was steady despite the slash across his ribs, and the moonlight exposed the sharp silhouette of his body—lean, honed, and deadly in motion.
His jet-black hair whipped behind him, messy but sharp against his pale face. His features were angular: a defined jaw, straight nose, and eyes so dark they seemed black until the light caught a faint crimson gleam inside them.
Eyes like a dragon opening its lid.
Long Hao ran across the uneven terrain, his breathing steady despite the searing pain tearing through his ribs. His black combat coat, once pristine, now clung to him in tattered strips. Blood dripped down his jawline, yet his eyes burned with a cold, razor-sharp focus.
Shadows darted from rooftop to rooftop.
Metal glinted in the moonlight.
Assassins—more than twenty—were closing in.
"Target confirmed," a voice hissed through the darkness. "Do not let him escape."
Long Hao smirked. "Escape? With clowns like you? Don't make me laugh."
Three assassins lunged simultaneously, blades flashing. Long Hao's body twisted, pivoting with deadly precision as he slammed his elbow into one attacker's throat. A wet crunch. The man fell limp.
The second assassin's dagger sliced toward his back—Long Hao spun, catching the wrist mid-air.Snap.A scream.
The third attacker barely had time to react before a boot crashed into his chest, sending him flying.
But killing these three meant nothing.More silhouettes emerged.More killing intent swirled like a suffocating storm.
Long Hao wiped the blood off his cheek with the back of his hand.
"Twenty-five assassins for one man." He chuckled bitterly. "The Shadow Hall really wants me dead."
A cold voice answered from above, "Shadow King Long Hao… you've killed too many of our elites. Tonight, you return to the darkness."
Long Hao's expression didn't change.
He simply dropped into stance.
"Come try."
The night exploded.
Assassins rained down like arrows, their blades forming arcs of silver death. Long Hao moved like a phantom, weaving between them, striking with precision that bordered on supernatural.
A throat slit.A heart pierced.A knee shattered.A dagger redirected into the attacker's own skull.
Bodies fell around him, painting the ground crimson.
Long Hao's body twisted with uncanny precision. His hand snapped upward—gripping one attacker's wrist mid-air. He pulled sharply.
Crack.
The assassin collapsed wordlessly.
The second came low; Long Hao sidestepped, his boot slamming into the attacker's knee. Crunch. A scream tore from the man's throat.
The third never reached him. A flick of Long Hao's fingers sent a hidden dagger slicing across the air—burying itself in the man's forehead.
He didn't pause.
He didn't waste breath.
He simply continued forward, as if killing three assassins was no more than brushing dust off his shoulder.
But more shadows emerged.
More killing intent surged.
His black combat coat was torn open across his chest, revealing the faint diagonal scar running across his ribs—an old wound from battles he had no time to remember.
"Long Hao!" a masked assassin growled. "You killed nine of our elites. Tonight, you die."
Long Hao wiped blood from his mouth, crimson staining the corner of his lips.
"You idiots have been trying to kill me for years," he muttered. "Shouldn't you be used to disappointment by now?"
They charged.
The night erupted into violence.
Steel clashed against steel as Long Hao moved like a phantom. His body flowed between attacks—lean muscles shifting under the moonlight, every step explosive yet controlled. He struck with ruthless accuracy, each blow aimed to cripple or kill.
A throat crushed.
A dagger deflected into its owner's heart.
A shadow stepped behind him—Long Hao spun, his elbow smashing into the man's face. Bone cracked.
Corpses hit the ground one after another.
But Long Hao bled too.
A cut opened across his abdomen.A dagger embedded itself in his shoulder.His breathing deepened—controlled, but strained.
Still…his eyes were sharp.
Still…he fought like a beast cornered but unbroken.
This was Long Hao—the assassin whose name shook underground guilds, the man feared for his silence, his precision, and his terrifying crimson gaze that made enemies falter even before he struck.
But now—
He was one man against many.
And even dragons bleed.
Another wave surged in. Long Hao killed them, but with each movement, his steps slowed, his vision blurred. When he finally staggered backward, only six assassins remained standing.
Nineteen bodies lay scattered around him.
Blood—his and theirs—soaked the ground.
The lead assassin stepped forward, mask reflecting moonlight. "Even dying, you're still a monster."
Long Hao exhaled, steady but weakening. His black hair framed his face, sweat and blood trickling down his jaw. His crimson-tinted eyes glowed unnaturally bright as he looked at the circle tightening around him.
"Monster?" he repeated with a faint smirk. "If you think this is monstrous… then the heavens above really underestimated me."
A blade pierced his abdomen from behind.
Long Hao didn't flinch.
He simply lowered his gaze, then lifted his chin defiantly.
The masked assassin sneered. "Any last words, Shadow King?"
Long Hao spat blood at the man's feet.
"Tell the heavens…"he coughed, the world tilting around him,"…Long Hao never kneels."
Five blades struck simultaneously.
His body collapsed.
Darkness swallowed the world.
A heartbeat.
Then another.
Long Hao's eyes snapped open.
He was lying on a narrow bed in a small, dimly lit room. His body felt different—lighter, younger. His clothes were clean. His wounds were gone.
He looked at his hands.
No scars.No blood.No dagger calluses.
A reflection in the window showed a 17-year-old version of himself—black hair messy, eyes deep and sharp, the same dragon-like aura hidden beneath youthful features.
He had reincarnated.
"...Another life?" Long Hao murmured.
A slow smile spread across his face.
"Heh. Heaven really messed up this time."
The dragon… had returned.