Chapter 2: Instantaneous Kill

"An opportunity to explain?"

Thorn bared his teeth and burst into wild laughter, tears streaming from his eyes. He stood up, laughing uproariously, and picked up a black axe weighing fifty kilograms that was beside him. With incredulity in his tone, he asked the other bandits, "Brothers, he actually wants to give me a chance to explain?"

The other bandit mercenaries laughed uproariously, not taking Rayan's words to heart at all.

"If you don't explain, then you're admitting guilt."

Rayan said seriously, "If you have any last words, I can wait for you to finish."

"My last words are: Go to hell, you little bastard!"

Thorn roared, flipping over the table with one hand and swinging the axe with the other, preparing to strike first. The axe hadn't even reached him yet, but the evil wind it brought up had already split the table in two. Hidden in the swirling sawdust, the axe aimed directly at Rayan's forehead.

Rayan calmly took a step back, his right hand already gripping the hilt of the long sword behind him. In the next instant, the long sword clanged as it was drawn from its sheath, meeting the opponent's axe with a simple downward slash. The downward slash was just the most basic move in the Fighter's swordsmanship, but his speed was incredibly fast, the blade appearing as a flash of light, leaving only a residual image on the viewer's retina.

"Your last words have been received, now you can die." Rayan sheathed his sword, speaking indifferently.

Thorn's eyes bulged, frozen in place. In just half a second, his expression turned from vicious to shocked, then to dazed. A thin line of blood appeared on his neck, brighter than the red Battle Qi that swirled around his body, with blood spraying mist-like everywhere along the line. Then, Thorn's head rolled off his shoulders, blood gushing out completely.

A few seconds later, the headless body finally crashed to the ground.

The effeminate man among the mercenaries screamed first. He hadn't even had time to grab a weapon, and his face was already splattered with blood. "I'm disfigured! I'm disfigured!" He exclaimed, touching his face a few times before realizing the blood came from Thorn.

It seemed the fight was over before it had even begun. The quicker bandit mercenaries had only just reached for their weapons when Thorn's head had already rolled several times on the floor. Seeing the blood everywhere, everyone was terrified. They had never imagined that a teenager, delicate and thin, could instantly kill a level five Fighter.

Someone whispered softly, "That sword seems..."

"Shut up!" Someone hissed at him in a low voice, and the former immediately fell silent.

The effeminate man covered his mouth, suppressing his shock, and stared intently at the long sword behind Rayan. "Young man, we shall meet again—" He gritted his teeth and said to the stunned crowd, "Let's go!"

The bandits quickly picked up Thorn's body and ran out of the Ravenstorm Inn. They didn't bother to pick up Thorn's head; according to the rules, the head was the bounty hunter's proof for completing a task.

Rayan paid no attention to the fleeing bandits but turned and walked to the bar, finally showing a youthful smile, "Boss, can I turn in the task here?"

"Turn in, turn in the task?" The innkeeper was still in shock, peering at the mess in the corner before pretending to clear his throat, "If your task wasn't received at Ravenstorm Inn, then I'll have to charge a fifty percent handling fee."

Rayan was surprised, "Isn't it thirty percent?"

The innkeeper crossed his arms indifferently, "It's thirty percent in other taverns, but Ravenstorm Inn is the only tavern within three hundred miles, so I charge fifty percent. I'm a reasonable businessman. If you don't want to pay fifty percent, then take his head to another tavern to complete your task."

Rayan frowned, "Can't it be less?"

"Less? You caused trouble in the tavern, and I haven't even charged you for the damaged tables and chairs yet!" the innkeeper sneered.

"The tables and chairs were damaged by Thorn, but it's fine to charge them to me."

Rayan nodded, "Additionally, I'd like to buy some other items from your tavern, so let's settle the account together."

Bounty hunters splurging in the tavern after completing tasks was common, and the innkeeper had seen many become overnight riches, getting drunk and gambling everything away in the tavern, eventually becoming despondent and turning into bandits. However, he doubted a fourteen or fifteen-year-old boy would drink. "What do you want to buy? Summer Red? Royal Grin? Or perhaps start with a glass of milk?"

Rayan glanced over the liquor cabinet for a while and shook his head, "I want a bottle of coagulant, a bottle of recovery potion, and I'm also out of antidote."

The innkeeper was taken aback for a moment, then rolled his eyes, "Are you kidding me? This is a tavern! How could I possibly have apothecary items? Have you ever seen any bandit mercenary come to a tavern to buy coagulant?"

Rayan, without lifting his eyelids, said, "I'll pay double the price."

"Oh dear, I suddenly remembered, to expand our sales, we've just got a new batch of coagulants, recovery potions, and antidotes and such." The innkeeper quickly bent down and started rummaging, creating a tinkling sound of dozens of bottles clashing under the counter.

"No rush."

Rayan touched his stomach and said, "I'll eat something first, been hungry for two days."

The innkeeper poked his head out, looking curiously at the young man in front of him, seemingly to confirm if the speaker was still the same boy who instantly killed a level five Fighter.

Rayan calmly righted a chair that had fallen beside him, sat down, and said, "Boss, bring some food, please."

"Aren't you afraid those people will call for reinforcements to come kill you?" the innkeeper couldn't help asking.

Rayan said, "If it's just a temporary gathering of twenty or thirty of their caliber, it's nothing. If they go back to their base to find better fighters, that will take more time, enough for me to have a meal."

The innkeeper gave a noncommittal lift of his eyebrows and fell silent.

A few minutes later, the aroma of meat soup wafted from the direction of the fireplace. The innkeeper was quietly calculating the price of broken glasses and plates while cleaning up. His movements were skilled and practiced, with a peculiar precision and elegance, as if he could start dancing at any moment, probably used to cleaning up after others.

Soon, he had tidied up the chaotic scene.

Rayan, drinking milk, his face dusty but still unable to conceal its delicacy, showed no expression. The firelight also illuminated the working innkeeper, casting his shadow dancing lightly on the opposite mottled and peeling wall.

Rayan found it odd, this innkeeper with grey hair, temples mixed with a few silver strands, always squinting his eyes as if he had seen the vicissitudes of life, yet his face always bore a cunning look of a mercenary businessman. When he rolled up his sleeves, the dark skin of his arms contrasted with several pale scars, extending from the back of his hand to his arm, indicating he had also engaged in bloodshed in his youth—his body only had a thin layer of second-order Fighter Battle Qi, probably because age had made him weaker, leading him to wash his hands of his past and open a tavern in the chaotic Shadowcrest Ridge Forsaken Hollow.

"What's your name, boss?"

Rayan suddenly asked, then quickly added, "If that's also considered paid information, then never mind."

"Duke."

The innkeeper was earnestly cleaning the bloodstains on the floor, not turning his head as he retorted, "I'm not that shameless!"

Duke... a name without fame, at least to Rayan, who had been a bounty hunter for less than half a year, it meant nothing, sounding just like a typical tavern keeper. Rayan smiled, then asked, "How long have you been here? Though there's an absolute command to protect taverns in the industry, don't you ever worry that some desperadoes will lose their minds and commit robbery or murder?"

"Nonsense! Naive kid..."

Duke's disdainful voice grew closer, indicating he had finished his work, "If something happens in the tavern, the culprit will not only be pursued by the entire Mercenary Association, but even the local bandits won't let him off."

"Why?" Rayan wondered.

"Because once something happens to the tavern, the Mercenary Association will send someone to investigate, gather evidence, analyze... until it reopens, which will take at least a few months. Where do you expect them to enjoy themselves during that time? Isn't that asking for their lives?"

Duke walked to the pot, took a spoonful to taste, and made several satisfied tsk noises, "Just a little longer, and it'll be ready. Of course, if you're worried I poisoned it, I can drink half the pot first for you." His tone carried a hint of cunning.

"No need."

Rayan confidently explained, "From the moment I drew my sword until now, you were the only one who didn't keep an eye on my sword. Besides, as you said earlier, the tavern is absolutely protected by the Mercenary Association. Similarly, the tavern keeper must also abide by all the principles set by the Mercenary Association. Since you are not greedy nor dare to covet my sword, there can't be any other reason for poisoning."

"You analyze things quite well..."

Duke chuckled lightly as he returned behind the bar to start wiping the collected glasses, "I am a honest businessman... For a small tavern like mine, it's good enough to keep my life, let alone covet the Legendary weapon Twilight Blade." After saying this, he put down the glass and turned towards the fireplace.

As soon as Duke mentioned the Twilight Blade, Rayan's body shook involuntarily, reflexively gripping the hilt of the sword behind him. The Twilight Blade was his biggest secret, and he originally thought no one would recognize the sword, at least that's what the sword's previous owner had told him.

But he immediately let go and calmed down. After a moment of silence, Rayan finally asked, "It's one thing to recognize it as a legendary weapon, but how did you know its name?"