Free Web NovelChapter 27: Deceit
If an ordinary person killed a consecrated member of the Serpent-Tongue Cult, an embedded esoteric technique would automatically imprint the murderer’s physiological signature and transmit it directly to the high-ranking patriarchs of the order at the exact moment of death.
Very few individuals on the continent possessed the knowledge required to break this occult tether, and Xander was one of them.
The necessary countermeasure was exceptionally brutal: one had to gouge the victim’s eyes completely out of their sockets prior to delivering the final, lethal blow.
Devout followers of the Serpentine faith always had two docile [Poisonous Snakelets] biologically embedded deep within their optic nerves, serving as organic transmitters for spiritual signals. So long as the eyeballs were entirely destroyed before the target’s life-force was severed, the tracking hex would fail to initiate, keeping the killer’s identity safely cloaked in shadows.
It was an unyielding, savage method, and the agonizing screeches resulting from the execution echoed violently beyond the reinforced walls of the study.
Yet, Xander did not harbor a single shred of mercy.
He was not inherently cold-blooded. Rather, his vast historical experience as a former top player had taught him that when dealing with fanatical zealots or malicious entities, one had to thoroughly uproot the problem. Leaving even a minor loose end was an open invitation for a lethal counter-strike down the line.
With Miller systematically liquidated, Xander cast his gaze through the shattered bay window, noting the towering, amber flames rapidly consuming the lower levels of the manor.
Taking advantage of the reality that the city watch was completely occupied at the northern docks—while the neighboring guards in the Wealthy District simply stood by their properties to observe the chaos—Xander ordered his detachment to plunder every easily transportable asset they could lay their hands on. freёwebnovel.com
"You have an operational window of precisely ten minutes. Harvest whatever liquid wealth you can carry," Xander commanded with cold authority.
Andre and the young guardsmen, having successfully dismantled the estate’s external mercenary line, instantly executed the order. Knowing that every single coin recovered would directly replenish the depleted coffers of Redoak Vale, they had absolutely no reason to hesitate.
Ten minutes evaporated in a flash. As the inferno spread aggressively through the architecture, a sudden, heavy sense of impending danger flared within Xander’s instincts.
"Sir Masked Twin Blades, we breached a subterranean vault! There is a massive hoard of high-end jewelry inside—" one of the guards reported breathlessly, his face flushed with excitement.
"Leave it! Fall back immediately!" Xander commanded, the knot of urgency in his chest tightening. He gave the decisive order to retreat without a millisecond of delay.
Andre knew better than to push their luck. They had already committed high-profile murder and arson within the borders of Tanchapel, and lingering to loot a burning estate was pushing into suicidal territory. He reckoned that even the most audacious syndicate of thieves wouldn’t dare push the envelope this far. If they were intercepted by a high-ranking patrol, the penalty was immediate execution.
Yet, what puzzled the retreating men was the continued, total absence of the standard security forces that typically anchored the Wealthy District.
"Move! Double the pace!" Andre urged, waving his men forward.
The detachment of guards vanished into the night, slipping past the perimeter walls. Xander deliberately lagged behind, anchoring the rear to cover their extraction route.
Suddenly, a blurring silhouette materialized from the edge of the smoke, chewing up the cobblestone distance at a terrifying, lightning-fast velocity! The approaching figure was moving on an absolute intercept trajectory toward the escaping guards.
Not good.
Xander ground his teeth, lunging forward with a sudden burst of speed. Vaulting cleanly over the iron fence, he planted his physical frame directly into the path of the encroaching shadow.
Andre and the guards, completely focused on their extraction vectors, missed the confrontation entirely as they ducked into a pre-planned escape alley.
"Damn you!" the rushing silhouette spat out, skidding to a halt as he locked eyes with Xander. "Are you the one they call the Masked Twin Blades?!"
Xander’s chest tightened slightly as he evaluated the individual standing before him. It was the exceptionally powerful operative he had briefly crossed paths with back during his transit through the [Deathly Silent Hills].
A second-rank [Dark Murderer].
Judging by his stance, he was an elite contractor tied directly to the Shadow Spider Network.
I cannot take him in a direct, face-to-face brawl right now, Xander’s mind calculated instantly. His adversary was a high-tier specialist boasting superior baseline Dexterity metrics, and his raw running velocity easily eclipsed Xander’s current baseline. Turning his back to sprint away would simply result in a swift blade through his spine.
"Curse it all! You actually slaughtered that fat swine Miller before I could claim the bounty?!"
The Shadow Spider executioner cast a venomous look toward the towering wall of fire engulfing the villa, his inner thoughts completely laid bare. He was in an incredibly foul mood. With Miller dead, his prospective employer had been wiped off the board, resulting in an automatic mission failure that would ding his standing within the internal progression system of the Spider Network.
This brand of professional frustration could only be vented on the Masked Twin Blades. Even though executing the rival assassin wouldn’t salvage his contract, a dead body was the only thing capable of soothing his irritation.
The killer smoothly drew a specialized dudgeon blade, a twisted grin breaking across his face. "Die!"
In that hyper-compressed second, a desperate gambit flashed through Xander’s mind. With a fluid flick of his wrist, he projected a small, pale-yellow token through the air.
The oncoming killer caught the projectile out of pure reflex. The card was a distinct amber hue, bearing the detailed engraving of a fanged arachnid across its face.
"What? You are an initiated brother of the Shadow Spider Network?" The executioner froze, his momentum breaking completely. The midnight gloom was entirely too dense for him to scrutinize the fine details of the card immediately.
"When the sun has yet to rise, we quietly murder."
Xander dragged the thumb of his left hand across his own throat, his posture instantly shifting into an aura of severe, unyielding authority. His heart pounded violently against his ribs, his survival hinging entirely on whether his performance could deceive a seasoned tier-two professional.
The killer’s face drained of color. He violently hurled the yellow token back onto the cobblestones, cursing under his breath. "What wretched luck! To think I almost traded blades with a fellow operative."
The internal directives of the Shadow Spider Network were absolute: brotherhood members were strictly prohibited from shedding each other’s blood. fгeewebnovёl.com
The enforcer scratched his head in bitter annoyance, swearing a few more times before muttering, "I suppose the dice rolled poorly for me tonight... damn it all."
Xander let out a silent breath of relief. Maintaining a steady, measured pace, he calmly pivoted and began walking toward the mouth of the alleyway. Every nerve in his body was coiled like a spring; if the enforcer showed even a micro-second of lethal intent, Xander would be forced to deploy his remaining combat features instantly.
Fortunately, luck favored the bold. Xander slipped around the brick corner without the enforcer detecting a single anomaly in his stride.
The moment his silhouette was completely obstructed by the alley walls, Xander accelerated to his absolute limit, launching into a frantic, high-speed sprint through the labyrinthine pathways. If he didn’t put miles between them now, he would never get another chance.
The flames continued to feast on the manor, casting a hellish glow over the cobblestones. Standing in the courtyard, the Shadow Spider killer’s frustration remained palpable.
After a long moment, he bent down to retrieve the discarded yellow token; a consecrated emblem of the network could not be left lying around a crime scene. However, as the brilliant light of the raging inferno washed over the surface of the card, his eyes caught a microscopic engraving that felt dangerously familiar.
"I’ve been played!" The killer’s face twisted into a sickening shade of green. "That is my own bloody identification card!"
There, etched into the corner of the arachnid emblem, was his personal, custom-forged signature seal. Every validated hand of the Spider Network carried an identical baseline card, but each was anchored by a completely unique, un-replicable maker’s mark.
The enforcer instantly realized he had been completely hoodwinked. The Masked Twin Blades wasn’t an initiated operative of the Shadow Spider Network at all.
Yet, a profound, chilling doubt gripped his mind... How did a rogue frontier Ranger possess flawless knowledge of the network’s most sacred precept? That specific phrase—When the sun has yet to rise, we quietly murder—was the foundational oath every single candidate swore upon baring their skin for the initiation mark. Every hunter was bound by blood to guard that secret; leaking it to an outsider carried a permanent, continent-wide execution order.
No matter what it takes, I will track that masked bastard down and flay him piece by piece!
Under the flickering reflection of the arson, the killer’s face warped into a mask of pure hatred. In the distance, the sharp, rhythmic clatter of iron horseshoes began to echo through the streets—the delayed city watch was finally converging on the sector.
The morning of the following day arrived with an explosive wave of unrest.
The high-profile security breach within the Wealthy District could not be suppressed. News of the total annihilation of the prominent merchant Miller and his entire lineage spread through every tavern and market square in Tanchapel like wildfire.
Every dive bar and low-tier alehouse was abuzz with wild, conflicting accounts of the slaughter. Some circles swore it was an internal purge executed by the fanatical Serpent-Tongue Cult, while others firmly pointed the finger at the rising legend of the Masked Twin Blades.
Tanchapel had enjoyed absolute institutional stability for far too long; never in recent memory had a rogue element possessed the sheer audacity to completely spit on the governing authority of the magistrate’s hall in this manner. For backing the mundane city administrators was Tanchapel’s elite spellcaster detachment.
Regardless of whether the ground patrols failed to secure the perpetrator at the scene, the arcanists possessed the means to extract the truth from the ether. This was an intolerable slight against the state. Consequently, under the intense, bureaucratic pressure of High Official Master Miro, a senior wizard specializing in advanced divination was brought directly to the charred ruins of Estate 31.
The arcanist prepared to invoke a specialized Second-Circle Spell capable of temporarily reversing the local temporal fabric to unmask the physical identity of the assassin.
But the final output left the entire administrative staff completely paralyzed with shock.
The Diviner’s spell had critically failed to resolve.
While divination magic was inherently volatile and carried a marginal probability of failure under specific interference, resolving the residual footprint of a physical criminal inside a fresh crime scene should have been trivial for an arcanist of his standing.
The senior wizard departed the ruins with an ashen, profoundly shaken expression. Within the hour, a secondary spellcaster was deployed to replicate the tracking matrix.
The output remained identical: total magical failure.
As a direct consequence, the double homicide and arson case transformed into the absolute focal point of public discourse across Tanchapel. Everyone was speculating as to what tier of mastermind was pulling the strings from the dark.
By nightfall, an anonymous, high-value bounty was systematically posted across every major mercenary and adventurer guild hall, explicitly targeting the head of the [Masked Twin Blades]. The populace instantly understood the subtext: the magistrate’s hall clearly held internal parameters regarding the killer’s identity, but lacking raw physical evidence for a formal decree, they were forced to utilize the mercenary network to resolve the problem.
The dread reputation of the Masked Twin Blades had officially solidified itself within the bedrock of Tanchapel.
[System Notification: Your martial achievements have become the focal point of regional discourse.]
[Territory Mythos unlocked — Infamy Parameter Activated: Territory Myth Level +1]
[Territory Myth Level (Masked Twin Blades) (Tanchapel)]: Due to the rapid, widespread proliferation of the Masked Twin Blades mythos, your signature identity has achieved notoriety within Tanchapel. A considerable multitude of elite bounty hunters are currently honing their steel. Furthermore, merchant caravans traveling between Tanchapel and the wider Jewel Bay sectors are actively distributing accounts of your exploits. Your shadow is now recognized across the East Coast.]
Xander stared at the rising infamy metrics flashing across his translucent interface and let out a soft, amused chuckle. Myth Level... Even when structured around negative notoriety, an advanced player knew how to weaponize such a parameter to trigger specific psychological conditions in future encounters.
By permanently deleting Miller from the board, Xander hadn’t merely exacted absolute blood vengeance for his lineage; he had successfully closed the parameters of his primary directive, securing a flat [500 General EXP] bonus.
Following this high-stakes raid, Xander’s accumulated pool of Combat Experience had surged to an impressive [1448 EXP]. Combined with the [600 General EXP] sitting in his reserve, he finally possessed the necessary currency to push his character sheet over the threshold, ascending to the advanced tier of his primary progression path.
Once a class-holder achieved Level 5 within a baseline path, the option to undergo an advanced class transition became unlocked.
Xander hesitated for only a fraction of a second before systematically allocating [2000 EXP] straight into his Ranger progression.
[System Notification: Ranger Level Up Initiated! Level 3 -> Level 5 achieved.]
[Advanced Tier Path Unlocked: Free Attribute Point Allocated to Dexterity.]
[Current Dexterity Attribute: 20 (Maximum Mortal Threshold reached!)]
[Passive Specialization Unlocked: Permanent mastery of the Active Skill [Anti-Gravity Steps] achieved.]
Thud. Thud. Thud.
A series of measured, rhythmic knocks suddenly resonated from the heavy wooden door of his safehouse room.
Xander smoothly closed his system interface and threw open the door, locking eyes with the half-elf retainer waiting in the corridor. It was Elyra.
"Are the logistical arrangements finalized?" he asked, his voice steady.
