Jun Wuyi

"That's enough!" Jun Zhantian exclaimed, "We're one family, but you chose to live in the southern mansion… Ah! You'll move back here tomorrow." He felt an aching pain as he stared at Jun Xie. Jun Moxie was his grandson regardless of the fact that he was a debauched wretch, and a disappointing figure. Moreover, he was the last successor of the Jun family.

The current state of foreign affairs was stable and peaceful in the kingdom. However, several princes had grown of age. This had led to an inevitable internal strife. Jun Zhantian was akin to a towering tree since he was the top military powerhouse. So, everyone wished to include him in their network of allies. The attempt to assassinate his grandson—the last heir to the Jun family—was possibly one of their strategies to stir an internal disaster. Jun Zhantian feared more attempts could be made on Jun Moxie's life if he didn't move back with him.

Jun Xie flatly declined, "I'm very comfortable there. So, there's no need for me to move."

Are you joking? This is a rare chance to experience the techniques of this world's fellow assassins. This will all go away from me if I move here… Jun Xie's heart palpitated with excitement as he heard Grandpa Jun discuss the matter.

Assassinations. A subject that seemed far away… but was still the most intimate part of his memories!

"You… wretch!" Grandpa Jun's anger erupted. He raised his hand to slap Jun Xie, but stopped. His face revealed a complicated look as he said, "You… just go then…"

Wasn't it the first time that he refused me? How did he dare to refuse me? It was a complete and utter rejection.

Jun Xie bent his body ceremoniously, and took Grandpa Jun's leave. He then turned around to walk away.

"Oh… one more thing. You aren't allowed to pester Princess Ling Meng from today onwards. There shall be no negotiations regarding this matter. Period!" Grandpa Jun spoke-up with an air of dejection and coldness.

*** ***

The Jun family seemingly possessed the strength to grasp even the Heavens… as though they were the only sovereigns in the Kingdom. However, the Jun family suffered from a fatal flaw—lack of a capable successor. The only living heir to the family—Jun Moxie—was a young debauchee. Jun Zhantian—a man seemingly in his forties… with a mind and body resistant towards the ravages of time—knew that the Jun family would likely be erased from the world if he didn't do anything about the matter. This was the most inevitable outcome when Jun Moxie's activities were kept in view.

Jun Zhantian had once tried to take the matter into his own hands. He had hardened himself to shamelessly ask the Emperor for His Majesty's most beloved daughter—Princess Ling Meng's hand in marriage for Jun Moxie. Jun Moxie would have a safe harbor to rely on if he was to succeed; even after Jun Zhantian's death. In fact, he would have an identity of royalty as the husband of the Princess. So, the Jun bloodline would be preserved… unless Jun Moxie made any outrageous mess.

Prince Consort—the position seemed grand and magnificent. However, it was the most embarrassing of all the government positions in reality. The biggest fear for any powerful minister was to receive an Imperial order bestowing their son with a marriage with the Princess. Who would want to bring a daughter-in-law the elders of their family would have to bow to? Moreover, there were rules that needed to be observed. A Prince Consort was prohibited from taking any concubines. The family would never see good days if the Princess happened to possess a perverse personality or a heart filled with jealousy. However, this seemed to be the best insurance plan for a debauchee like Jun Moxie. In this way, the Jun family would at least be kept alive over the generations.

Therefore, Jun Zhantian had willingly proposed the idea of the marriage of his grandson Jun Moxie with Princess Ling Meng without any feeling of agitation or intimidation.

Grandpa Jun was like an elder brother to the Emperor. His Majesty had understood the intention behind his old comrade's proposal. He was moved by Jun Zhantian's predicament. In fact, he had even considered the matter carefully for a long time. But, he had finally refused the offer owing to Jun Moxie's history, and everything that he had done. And, more specifically… due to Princess Ling Meng's refusal!

"It's not that your younger brother isn't willing to help you, Brother Jun. But, I'm a father. How can I marry my most beloved daughter—Ling Meng to a… Ah!" His Majesty had lowered his head out of respect. This had caused Jun Zhantian to lose his breath.

A father…? Consideration for your daughter…? Wouldn't you have been filled with joy if I had brought this proposal to you a decade back… when the Jun family was in its most prosperous period? Grandpa Jun's heart was filled with resentment.

*** ***

Jun Xie stood at the doorway. He replied lightly, "Oh, I understand". There was neither shock nor joy in his voice; his tone was like a bowl of plain water. Then, he walked out.

Jun Moxie had started to consider himself as the Prince Consort of Princess Ling Meng ever since he had learnt about Grandpa Jun's proposal. In fact, he had even started to stalk the Princess; he had vexed her to no end. Grandpa Jun was surprised to see that Jun Moxie had taken the news of rejection with indifference. He had expected Jun Moxie to become angry or hysterical. He wouldn't have been surprised if Jun Moxie had gone cursing out into the streets. However, Jun Moxie's indifferent attitude had left him in shock.

"Has the fall from the bed changed his character?" Grandpa Jun stroked his beard as he stared at the departing figure of his grandson.

Jun Zhantian clapped his hands and ordered, "Arrange a few more experts to guard the Young Master at night. I don't want any more mishaps. Kill any suspicious person on the spot."

Don't even think about trying this a second time. You think that you can just waltz in here… and take the life of Jun Zhantian's grandson? Grandpa Jun's eyes flashed with coldness.

Grandpa Jun seemed to have given these orders to thin air within the empty room. But then… the voice of a man resounded from somewhere, "Understood!"

Jun Xie walked out into the sunlight, and started to advance towards his courtyard. The warm rays of sun shone on his face. He met several servants along the way. They bowed to him in fear and trepidation. However, Jun Xie didn't notice any of them since he was lost in his thoughts.

Nobody knew the thoughts that were echoing within Jun Xie's mind.

What's an assassin? As the name suggests… an assassin is the one who assassinates. We're the hands of darkness. Always remember this word –'darkness'!

An assassin is always an illusionary existence—entering like the wind, and disappearing into nothingness.

What makes a successful assassin? If nobody gets to know that a person is an assassin—with his hands soaked in blood—till the day he dies… then he's a successful assassin.

Then, what are the qualifications of a super assassin?

The so-called qualification of a successful assassin is to blend into any atmosphere and situation. He'll transform into a poet when placed within scholars… an artist when placed within painters… a villain among the rogues… a nobleman and a gentleman in the company of the socialites… a sexual predator in the company of sexual offenders… and an exemplary champion when among heroes!

He's a lizard in the desert, and the wolf king in the prairie. He's the king of beasts—a tiger in the mountains… and the tide-bringer—a dragon when floating above the seas.

These are the qualities of a successful assassin…

The one who only knows how to kill is… at best… a butcher.

But, the one who has a clear goal in mind while killing… in addition to being successful each time… can be regarded as a good assassin.

Assassination—it's an art in itself. As an assassin… one must never profane the elegance of this art.

This was a conversation that he'd had with his master in his past life. His mouth broke into a smile as he thought about it. He murmured, "The current me is nothing more than a worthless freeloading… second generation figurehead waiting for death's call."

"Wrong! You aren't the second generation figurehead… I am. You're the third generation figurehead," a cold voice resounded.