Betrayal and Profit

As the shadowy figures trailed Nylon, they saw him heading into an abandoned alleyway in a mostly deserted part of Stormrock Town. They followed him in without much thought, their Invincible Plane cultivation levels giving them all the confidence in the world.

"Should we take care of him now?" one of the shadowy figures whispered, to which the leader among them nodded. The shadowy figures then dispersed, aiming to deploy some sort of pincer move on the seemingly unsuspecting target.

Suddenly—

SPURT!

"!!!" "!!!" "!!!"

The eyes of the shadowy figures bulged out of their heads, for not far away from them, a comrade was sliced into two separate pieces!

The culprit, much to the astonishment of the shadowy figures, was the same one they were meant to kill and rob!

"Assassins?" a curious voice carried through the air, belonging to a devilishly handsome young man holding a half cut-off torso in his hands. "Now why would a bunch of the scum of society be targeting little ol' me? Oh… I know."

Nylon took out the Spatial Ring containing 12,000 Low-grade Spirit Stones. "You're after this, huh?"

Shock spread through the group of assassins. They had been found out so easily, and unless they 'resolved' this problem now, the issue would ultimately find its way back to their client.

"Judging by your reactions, I can assume I've been targeted by the very shop owner I let appraise and purchase my merchandise." Nylon rubbed his chin in thought, instilling an even greater urgency into the assassins. "This is an unfortunate thing, indeed. After all, I planned to return to that shop in the future. Now that's impossible because, just like you lot… the shop owner has to die."

FWIP!

Danger!

The assassins reacted as quickly as they could, but in the blink of an eye, Nylon and his double fire blades drew a flaming red line between every single one of them. In the next instant, that flaming line mixed with blood, as torsos and heads slipped off lower extremities.

Reappearing behind the field of scattered body parts, Nylon's expression turned into one of contemplation. He had been somewhat worried that his speed would be heavily reduced after the loss of his Infernal Wings, a result of the Martial Spirit's evolution. However, he was not left disappointed, as evident by just how much he outclassed these assassins.

Sauntering around the area, Nylon looted the ones that failed in taking his life. After counting the gains—worth approximately 10 Low-grade Spirit Stones of Genuine Quality—he multiplied them and vacated the alleyway.

The aftermath of the bloody massacre would not be found until days later, discovered because of the stench of rotting flesh…

*Fwooop!*

Bursting forward at a speed rivaling that of some 7th Plane Mystery Experts, Nylon eventually made it out of the deserted part of town. His next destination: cutting out even the roots of the weed.

…

"Haha! We're going to be filthy rich after this!" a wealthy-sounding laughter echoed out inside a room of the shop Nylon had sold his stuff to. The owner of the punchable laughter slapped his round belly, continuing to say, "The swords themselves are already worth quite the pretty penny, but after we obtain the other good stuff that that boy was sure to have as some sort of family heir, our pockets will inflate so much we'll need to buy new pockets!"

In truth, this shop owner had been robbing people like this for years. After confirming the Plane of the customer with a simple tester, he would give out whatever price the customer requested. Then he'd send out his personal assassination squad, using them to both regain all Spirit Stones and take anything else of value off the targeted customer.

So far, this routine of the shop owner had worked each and every single time—until now…

"I-I already told you I really don't know what you're talking about…!" The shop owner was pleading for his life with a sharpened knife to his throat. In front of him were his brothers, who had been assisting him in committing all sorts of various crimes over the years.

Those same brothers… were now bleeding out before his very eyes, with the last of the life in their gazes fading away…

"You don't know what I'm talking about, huh?" Nylon repeated rhetorically. "How so very interesting."

Imminent death!

Sensing this exact premonition, the shop owner closed his eyes, shouting, "P-Please stop!! I know, okay! I did it! I fucking did it…!!"

"See?" Nylon dispersed his overpowering killing intent, all smiles. "That's all you had to say."

"So then you'll let me live-..."

SHING!

SPLURT!

"Of course not," replied Nylon, his |Blazing Calamity Blade| tasting the blood of a fat rich man. "Those who mess with me only have one fate that awaits. I would ask you what that is since you've personally experienced it, but it would seem I'm too late."

In the span of a single hour, one young man no older than eighteen did what even Mystery Plane Cultivators wouldn't be able to accomplish across several weeks of taxing legal efforts. To top it all off, he looted the shop owner, the shop owner's brothers, as well as the vault the shop owner kept hidden behind a false wall.