The White Rose: A Killer's Rebirth

Outside the central part of the city, soldiers gathered under the orders of the Young Master. Speculation ran wild—many believed they were being called to war, while others were eager for the chance to fight. However, the Young Master's announcement stunned them all.

"This isn't a gathering for war," he declared, silencing the crowd. "A Silver Level 1 master has entered our town."

Gasps and murmurs rippled through the soldiers. Silver Level cultivators were rare, especially in smaller towns like theirs. The Young Master continued, "He's not our enemy. I intend to recruit him into our army."

An elder from a neighboring city, present at the gathering, frowned. Recruiting a Silver master would be costly, if not impossible. Most Silver cultivators were in their thirties or forties, hailed as geniuses. The idea of a young Silver master was unheard of.

The Young Master added, "This Silver master is only 16 to 18 years old."

The crowd erupted in disbelief. A 16-year-old Silver master? The elder's suspicion deepened. Such a prodigy was unprecedented.

The Young Master held up a military badge. "This Silver master killed Lieutenant Green."

The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances. They'd been told Green died fighting beasts, but now the truth was clear. Green, a Bronze Level 2 cultivator, had been no match for the Silver master.

"Your task," the Young Master continued, "is to find this young teen. He's likely in the slums, accompanied by a younger boy. Bring him to me—alive and unharmed."

As the soldiers dispersed, a man in a black cloak approached the Young Master and whispered something. The Young Master's expression shifted. "The Silver master has been spotted leaving the slums and heading toward the main market! Find him, but do not provoke him. Inform him that I wish to speak with him."

Meanwhile, Zuhn and Scar walked through the slums, unaware of the chaos unfolding around them. Zuhn had sensed someone following them but dismissed it as paranoia. Scar, however, grew uneasy when Zuhn mentioned it.

"Who would follow us?" Scar asked. "People here only fight over territory. No one would bother two kids."

But as they left the slums, Zuhn's instincts proved right. He turned sharply, spotting a man in a black cloak perched on a rooftop. The man fled as soon as he was seen, moving with unnatural speed. Zuhn chose not to pursue, focusing instead on their destination.

Two miles from the capital gates, a group of armed men intercepted them. Scar recognized their elite insignias and began to sweat. These were the town's most experienced fighters, known for their brutality.

"Which one of you is the Silver master?" one of the men demanded, his tone mocking.

Zuhn and Scar exchanged confused glances, then looked behind them as if the question was meant for someone else.

"You, the tall one!" the man pointed at Zuhn, drawing his weapon. "The Young Master wants to see you, but I want to test your strength first."

The group smirked, their weapons gleaming in the sunlight. Zuhn's hand instinctively moved toward his knife, his expression calm but ready. Scar stepped back, his heart racing. The elites clearly didn't believe Zuhn was a Silver master—and they were about to find out the hard way.

Zuhn stood motionless, his expression unreadable as he faced the group of elite soldiers. The crowd around them watched in stunned silence, their jaws dropping at the sight of the town's most feared fighters confronting two teenagers. Scar, visibly nervous, gripped his weapon tightly, but Zuhn remained calm, almost indifferent.

The leader of the elites, a burly man with a massive axe, stepped forward. "We'll do this one-on-one," he declared, motioning for his men to back away. Zuhn mirrored the gesture, his confidence unnerving the soldiers.

Scar counted down. "3...2...1… GO!"

Zuhn moved first, his dagger flashing as he assumed a defensive stance. The axe-wielder smirked, thinking Zuhn's small blade was no match for his weapon. He swung his axe with all his might, but Zuhn vanished before the blow landed. The axe struck empty air.

The man turned, only to see Zuhn already among his men, cutting them down with terrifying precision. One by one, the elites fell, clutching their throats as blood pooled around them. The crowd screamed, horrified by the carnage.

Scar stared in disbelief. Zuhn's weapon, once a small knife, had transformed into a sleek dagger with a jet-black handle and a gleaming iron blade. It shimmered with a ruby-red hue as it dripped with blood.

The axe-wielder dropped his weapon and fell to his knees, begging for mercy. "I'm sorry, Silver Master! I underestimated you!"

Zuhn laughed, a chilling sound that echoed through the streets. He didn't stop there. With brutal efficiency, he severed the man's limbs, then stomped on his head until it was a bloody pulp. The crowd fled in terror, leaving Zuhn standing in a pool of blood, his eyes glowing red.

From the shadows, a woman with red eyes and a devilish smile watched intently. She stepped forward, placing a hand on Scar's shoulder. "Zuhn!" she called, her voice cutting through the chaos.

Zuhn looked up, his crimson eyes locking onto hers. He laughed again, the sound sending shivers down Scar's spine.

"Just what are you?" the woman muttered, her voice tinged with awe and fear. Known as the Devil's Mistress, she was a formidable figure, a practitioner of the forbidden "Ancient Magic Theory." At stage two, she could suppress Silver-level cultivators, but Zuhn's power was beyond her comprehension. His speed, his ruthlessness—it was unlike anything she'd ever seen.

Zuhn stood amidst the carnage, the bodies of the elite soldiers scattered around him. The townsfolk had fled, terrified by the cold-blooded killer in their midst. Zuhn licked his dagger, savoring the metallic taste of blood, then wiped it clean. The thrill of killing was back, stronger than ever.

When he looked up, he saw Scar and the woman staring at him, their faces a mix of fear and disbelief. "You must think I'm a monster, right?" Zuhn asked, his smile chilling.

Scar was too shaken to speak, but the woman stepped forward, her red eyes glowing. "Zuhn, what was that? And how do you know the Ancient Magic Theory?"

Zuhn tilted his head. "Ancient Magic Theory? Never heard of it. But it sounds interesting."

The woman's eyes flared, and she lunged at Zuhn with blinding speed. But Zuhn was faster, leaving only an afterimage in his wake. He dodged her attacks effortlessly, never striking back. Exhausted, she collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

Scar, thinking she was dead, charged at Zuhn with his dagger. But before he could strike, Zuhn vanished. "You killed the only person who cared about me!" Scar shouted, his voice breaking.

Suddenly, the woman stirred, a sphere of wind forming around Scar and lifting him into the air. "I'm alive," she whispered, tears in her eyes. Scar dropped his weapon and rushed to her side, relief washing over him.

Zuhn watched from a distance, his expression unreadable. He glanced at his dagger, puzzled by its transformation from a knife. He also wondered about the woman's mention of Ancient Magic Theory. Deep down, he knew his strength was growing with each fight, but he didn't understand why.

The woman and Scar turned to him. "Zuhn, are you sure you don't know about Ancient Magic Theory?" she asked again.

Zuhn shook his head, then noticed a group of thirty to forty soldiers approaching. The woman grabbed Scar and vanished, leaving Zuhn alone.

The soldiers stopped at the sight of the dead elites. Their leader, a tall, muscular man, stepped forward. "Silver Master! We mean no harm. Our Young Master requests your presence."

Zuhn raised an eyebrow. "I don't care about your Young Master."

The leader hesitated. "He's offering you wealth and a place in our ranks."

Zuhn considered it briefly but decided against it. "I'm not interested."

The leader drew his sword. "Then we'll bring you by force!"

Before the man could react, Zuhn decapitated him in one swift motion. The other soldiers froze in terror as Zuhn sprinted toward the slums, leaving chaos in his wake.

As Zuhn sprinted toward the slums, hundreds of soldiers pursued him. Despite believing he was a Silver Master, they were determined to kill him, especially after he'd decimated their best fighters. The town's power had taken a severe blow, and they couldn't let him escape.

"Get that teen!" a commander shouted, pointing at Zuhn. Though Zuhn was fast, a few soldiers managed to close the gap, their breathing audible as they neared. Zuhn slowed as he approached the slums, knowing the soldiers wouldn't dare follow him into the territory of the slums' powerful factions.

The slums' guards, seeing the soldiers invade, launched an immediate counterattack. What began as a skirmish quickly escalated into a full-scale battle. The slums' factions, usually at odds with each other, united against the common enemy. The soldiers, initially dismissive of the slums' fighters, soon realized their mistake as elites from both sides clashed.

Zuhn, now free from pursuit, climbed onto a rooftop to observe the chaos. Below, the slums' fighters, though poorly equipped, fought fiercely. Among them, a man in golden armor stood out, surrounded by black-armored guards. Zuhn guessed he was one of the slums' faction leaders.

The soldiers, overwhelmed, began to retreat. "Fall back!" their commander ordered, and the soldiers fled, leaving behind equipment and bodies. The slums' fighters swarmed the battlefield, looting the fallen soldiers. The golden-armored man raised his hand, and his guards executed the looters, restoring order.

As the golden man surveyed the scene, he felt a cold gaze. Looking up, he spotted Zuhn on a rooftop, watching him with red eyes and a devilish smile. The golden man waved his dagger in a mocking gesture, and Zuhn waved back before disappearing.

Moments later, Zuhn reappeared behind the golden man, his presence sending shivers down the man's spine. The black-armored guards moved to encircle Zuhn, but the golden man waved them off.

"Who are you?" the golden man asked, his voice trembling.

Zuhn circled him, his smile widening. "The name's White Rose."

The golden man frowned. He'd never heard of a "White Rose" in the slums. As his guards edged closer, Zuhn moved faster than anyone could see, killing three of them in an instant. The remaining guards backed away, terrified.

The golden man stared in shock, sweat dripping down his face. Zuhn licked the blood from his knife, then turned to leave. "We'll meet again," he said, vanishing into the shadows.

The golden man stood frozen, his guards equally stunned. "Sir, who was that?" one asked.

"I don't know," the golden man admitted. "But he's not someone we can afford to cross. He's probably an ace from the Rascal Bandit Group."

At the mention of the Rascal Bandit Group, the guards fell silent, their fear palpable. Zuhn, meanwhile, disappeared into the slums, leaving behind a trail of chaos and blood.