The White Rose: A Killer's Rebirth

When Zuhn pulled out his knife, the guards tensed. The stories of the slaughtered teens outside town and the attacked gate guards suddenly clicked. This wasn't just a random fight—this was the killer they'd been warned about.

"Kid, put that down," the older man said, his voice calm but firm. His sharp eyes studied Zuhn, recognizing the danger in front of him. But Zuhn didn't hesitate. He slashed at the nearest guard, his movements so fast the others barely registered it. The guard crumpled to the ground, dead before he could react.

Scar froze, remembering how quickly Zuhn had dispatched his old friends. The guards, including the older man, stepped back, their confidence shaken.

The older man glanced toward a window where the young master watched, then nodded as if receiving silent instructions. Gripping his sword, he stepped forward. "If you can beat me, I'll let you go," he declared.

Zuhn tightened his grip on the knife and advanced, stepping over the fallen guard. "You got lucky," the man said, his voice steady. "But luck won't save you now."

The guards formed a circle around them, chanting the man's name. "Green! Green! Green!"

The fight began. The older man lunged, his sword aimed at Zuhn's chest. Zuhn dodged, his movements precise. He remembered a past victim who had fought back with a kitchen knife, using similar stabbing motions. Zuhn analyzed the man's patterns, waiting for an opening.

When it came, Zuhn slashed at the man's armor, but the blade bounced off harmlessly. The man smirked. "Is that all you've got?"

The guards and the young master watching from the window seemed to relax, convinced the fight was over. Even Scar grew uneasy.

Then the man muttered something under his breath.

Poof.

Zuhn felt a searing pain in his stomach. He looked down to see a hole in his side. Blood seeped through his clothes. Scar gasped. "Zuhn! He's a cultivator!"

Zuhn's shock turned to cold determination. He didn't understand magic, but he knew one thing: he had to end this fast. Ignoring the pain, he charged at the man.

The man raised his sword, expecting Zuhn to falter. But Zuhn feinted, darting behind him. Before the man could react, Zuhn drove his knife into the back of his neck. The man collapsed, his eyes wide with disbelief.

The guards froze, their chants dying in their throats. The young master in the window clutched his mouth, tears streaming down his face. The man on the ground was his uncle—his mentor.

Zuhn, bleeding but resolute, turned to the guards. They backed away, creating a path for him and Scar to escape.

Zuhn and Scar reached a small shack in the slums. "Welcome to my place," Scar said, gesturing to the rickety wooden structure. Inside was a single chair, a table, and little else.

Zuhn stumbled, the pain in his side flaring up. Scar rushed out and returned with a box of medical supplies. "We used this when we got hurt robbing people," he explained, pulling out bandages and thread.

Zuhn laid on the floor, biting down on a towel as Scar stitched his wound. The pain was excruciating, but Zuhn endured it in silence. When Scar finished, Zuhn slowly sat in the chair, his body aching.

Scar left again, returning with a small bag of food. "The kingdom gives this to people here," he said, handing Zuhn an apple and a bottle of water.

As Scar ate, Zuhn noticed a small book on the table. He picked it up, feeling a strange vibration from its pages. The title read: Cultivation for Beginners. Zuhn opened it, scanning the table of contents.

Scar froze mid-bite, his apple slipping from his hand. "Zuhn… that book… only people with a certain talent can even open it."

Zuhn looked up, the book resting in his hands. Scar's eyes widened. "You… you can read it?"

Scar rushed to Zuhn's side, staring at the open book in his hands. "How can you open that? Only people with a special talent can even touch it!"

Zuhn ignored Scar's shock and began reading the first chapter: Body Strengthening. "The first level lays the foundation for cultivation. Each subsequent level strengthens it further. To begin, meditate and follow these steps…"

Scar leaned over Zuhn's shoulder, trying to make sense of the text. "Do you understand any of this?" Zuhn asked.

"No," Scar admitted. "I don't have the talent for cultivation. I can't even open the book."

Zuhn closed the book and set it aside. "Aren't you going to try it?" Scar asked, confused.

Zuhn shook his head. He wasn't interested in cultivation—his knife was his weapon of choice. But he knew he needed a better one. "Do you know where I can buy a weapon?"

Scar nodded. "There's a place, but it's expensive. I also know a job we can do to earn some money." He grinned and gestured for Zuhn to follow.

Meanwhile, in the central capital, the town's elders and nobility were in an uproar. Lieutenant Green, a Bronze Level 2 cultivator and one of their strongest soldiers, had been killed by a teenager.

"How did a kid defeat Green?" one elder demanded.

The young master, seated at the head of the table, slammed his fist down. "That 'kid' isn't ordinary. I'm Bronze Level 3, and I doubt I could even touch him. He's at least Silver Level 1."

The room fell silent. Silver Level cultivators were rare and powerful, far beyond the town's usual capabilities. "What do we do?" an elder asked.

The young master leaned back, a calculating look in his eyes. "We recruit him. Offer him wealth and resources. If he joins us, we'll become a dominant force in the region."

The elders agreed, pooling half their wealth—800,000 silver—to entice Zuhn. They hoped his lack of access to resources in the Fairbanks region would make the offer irresistible.

In the slums, Zuhn and Scar navigated the narrow, dirty streets. The slums were divided into factions, with the Rascal Bandit Group reigning supreme. Scar explained how his old gang had tried to mimic the group's reputation, only to cross paths with Zuhn.

As they walked, Scar pointed out the power dynamics in the town. The young master, though seen as a brat, controlled the city through manipulation. Many feared him, though few had ever seen him in person.

Eventually, they reached a small, dimly lit building. Scar knocked three times, and a woman named Charlotte opened the door. Her eyes lit up at the sight of Scar, and she ushered them inside.

"Where are the others?" she asked, glancing at Zuhn.

Scar explained what had happened, including Zuhn's role in killing Lieutenant Green. Charlotte's expression remained neutral until Scar mentioned the lieutenant's death. Her eyes flicked to Zuhn, assessing him.

"So, Charlotte, I couldn't get the money you wanted," Scar said. "But Zuhn's strong. If you give us the job to kill that old man in the capital, we can pay you back and earn some extra."

Charlotte nodded slowly and retrieved a contract. "The usual," she said, handing Scar a pen.

Scar signed his name and passed the pen to Zuhn. "You need to put your name and rank. Since you don't have a rank, just write your name."

Zuhn hesitated. "Who are we killing, and how much are we getting paid?"

Charlotte chuckled. "You don't get paid until the job's done."

Zuhn's patience wore thin. He wasn't used to killing for money—he did it for the thrill. But he needed funds for a better weapon. He drew his knife, his voice cold. "I don't work for free."

Scar tensed. "Zuhn, calm down. Charlotte isn't someone you want to mess with."

Charlotte set down her tea, her smile turning sinister. "Listen to him, boy. You don't want to get hurt."

Zuhn lunged, aiming for her neck, but his knife stopped mid-air as if hitting an invisible barrier. Charlotte turned, her eyes glowing red, a devilish grin spreading across her face.