What excites the assassins is that even on the third day since Henwell and his group arrived at Griffith town, they show no sign of leaving.

  This gives the assassins plenty of time to prepare.

  Tonight, they pn to carry out a brutal scheme.

  After night falls, groups of bck-cd figures creep toward the warehouse in the southwest corner.

  Though these assassins don’t know each other and some are bitter rivals from past jobs, if this were any other mission, they’d be fighting to the death.

  But this task feels like a mountain in their careers.

  They must remove Henwell and his group before their professional lives can continue.

  So, the assassins tacitly set aside their differences and reach a shared understanding.

  When a team of several dozen pushes over a dozen small carts, many killers’ eyes light up—not because of the carts themselves, but because of the barrels loaded on them.

  The scent of mp oil fills the air, making clear what these assassins intend.

  Then, the leader of one assassin squad steps forward, handing his weapons to his comrades to show he wants to negotiate peacefully.

  Soon after, more assassin leaders emerge.

  More than a dozen leaders gather together, exchanging words with the leader of the group carrying the mp oil barrels.

  Both sides disguise their voices, using voice-altering techniques.

  “Impressive, brother. To gather this much mp oil in such a short time, so you’re pnning to set that pce on fire.”

  “I have some small catapults that can hurl the oil containers right into the warehouse.”

  “I suggest we don’t use such rge barrels. That means we have to get dangerously close.”

  “We can divide the oil into smaller jars and toss them in batches to keep constant pressure on them.”

  “Even better, if we split it into bottles and each carry some, human throws will be more precise.”

  “When they start panicking, we can control the fire’s starting points more accurately, squeezing their survival space tighter.”

  “You seem to forget the Lord of Blood Hill—that’s a Grand Knight. Fmes won’t trap him.”

  “Besides, my intel says there are at least two Battle Knights in that group.”

  “If they break out, it’ll be a disaster for us.”

  “We don’t have enough men to stop those two from escaping.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I happen to have some good stuff—five military crossbow ballistas.”

  “They’re not the big siege ones, but enough to suppress and slow down targets.”

  “We’ve held back so far, just waiting for these heavy hitters to arrive.”

  “What? Military ballistas? Where on earth did you get those?”

  “Hey! That’s crossing the line, buddy. Bad form!”

  “Quiet! We don’t have much time. Besides that, we also have poison to mix into the mp oil. When it burns, it’ll produce a lot of toxic smoke.”

  “I can get a few bulls, pump them full of drugs to make them furious, and send those burning carts charging into the warehouse!”

  ……

  A group of professional assassins who make their living killing quickly finalize a deadly chain pn.

  They pull the oil carts back a bit, find the spot downwind, and start dividing the oil into smaller containers.

  Five Military ballistas are assembled and pced on rooftops around the warehouse district.

  A dozen or so bulls are brought here, with various burning materials tied behind them, and fed special drugs.

  After more than an hour of preparation, everything is set.

  The assassin leaders return to their assigned positions.

  Everyone tacitly agreed that no one should discuss how to divide the credit afterward.

  On one hand, that’s a matter for after the target is eliminated, and skill will speak for itself.

  On the other, the employer only wants Henwell and his group dead—how or by whom doesn’t matter.

  As long as they participate, they’ll receive a generous bounty.

  Once the small catapults are ready, they ignite the cloth wicks on the oil barrels and hurl them toward the warehouse.

  But before the barrels hit the ground, several arrows shoot out from the warehouse, precisely hitting the rolling oil barrels midair.

  The barrels explode in midair, creating a bright wall of fmes.

  The burning oil falls to the ground, forming a fiery zone about twenty meters in front of the warehouse.

  The assassins sneaking closer, pnning to throw their own oil bottles into the chaos, are now clearly illuminated by the bright fmes surrounding the warehouse.

  Before they can react, a group of armored knights rise up from the rooftops around the warehouse.

  They raise their longbows and unleash a volley of arrows at the nearby assassins.

  These are knights—masters of all weapons, skilled horsemen and archers alike!

  Within forty or fifty meters, with clear sight and precise targets, missing is simply not an option.

  Three rapid volleys knock down nearly a hundred assassin killers.

  Worse still, many assassins still clutch oil bottles with burning cloth wicks, unable to throw them in time.

  As they fall, their own oil bottles become fuel, igniting their bodies.

  Seeing the knights already aiming at more distant assassins, some assassin leaders shout, “Ballistae! Use the ballistae to take them down!”

  Looking around, the assassins witness several bck-cd figures suddenly spring up, swiftly sying the killers manning the ballistae.

  These groups of three immediately turn the ballistae toward the nearby small catapults.

  Firing the ballistae, nearly two-meter-long bolts tear through the makeshift catapults in an instant.

  By now, the assassin leaders realize that Henwell’s men are mixed in among the assassins.

  Even worse, the destruction of the catapults causes many unfired oil barrels to explode, turning the area into a bzing inferno.

  The bulls, already drugged into a frenzy, start rampaging wildly.

  But their instinctive fear of fire keeps them from charging into the fiery ring around the warehouse; instead, they thrash about nearby.

  The worst moment comes when a figure leaps out from the warehouse.

  Tall, cd in bck armor, wielding twin swords, Henwell charges straight into the killer ranks.

  He instantly switches into a relentless mowing-grasses mode—no assassin can withstand his assault.

  At the same time, knights leap down from the rooftops.

  Drawing long swords and removing their round shields, they form a shield wall and push rapidly into the assassin horde.

  Watching the fierce advance of the knights and Henwell’s devastating rampage, the remaining assassins suddenly feel their professional pride slipping away.

  Maybe it’s time to consider a different career after all.