Shameless Immortal: Emperor of Ten Thousand Beauties

With the "Peak" expert erased in a single breath, Lixue didn’t linger to savor the kill. Reining in her silver aura, her face pale but etched with a terrifying resolve, she bolted toward the heart of the explosion.

A rare flicker of genuine anxiety pulsed through Shen Yu’s chest. The Middle-Stage assassin, paralyzed by the sudden eruption of Lixue’s Sword Intent, hadn’t even seen the "Golden Paragon" move. Shen Yu lunged forward, his spear trailing a wake of predatory, dark-gold light that swallowed the dim hallway.

Squelch!

The spearhead didn’t just strike; it drove through the assassin’s forehead with surgical precision, pinning the bone-white mask to the back of his skull. With a cold, methodical twist, Shen Yu withdrew the weapon as the body collapsed. He didn’t spare the corpse a second glance, his golden eyes snapping to Lixue’s retreating form.

The "Golden Paragon" and the "Sword Sovereign" blurred into motion, racing down the corridor as a single, lethal current of gold and silver. Behind them, the shadows of the arched walkway remained silent, but ahead, the roar of the Peak Golden Core battle promised a slaughterhouse. The mask of the righteous savior was gone; the silver moon was rising, and it was thirsty for blood.

As they neared the blast zone, the atmospheric pressure became a physical weight, thick with the metallic tang of blood and scorched ozone. From afar, they spotted four shadows: three wearing the familiar Syndicate masks and one in a charcoal-colored visage, Wraith-043.

Suddenly, three more figures emerged from the smoke to join the fray, Xu Yi, the shop manager; Shen Mo; and Shen Fu, the driver. There was no time for greetings. Both sides locked eyes and charged into the meat grinder.

In the center of the carnage, Mei Yilan was a vision of desperate defiance. Her robes were shredded, blood seeping from numerous cuts, and her movements were becoming dangerously sluggish as her old injury flared like a toxin in her veins.

As a 1st-stage Golden Core assassin lunged to deliver a crippling blow to her side, he felt a high-speed projectile enter his spirit sense. He was a heartbeat too late. An arrow, launched with thunderous force, buried itself into his wrist. The impact shattered bone, forcing his blade wide.

Yilan seized the opening. Before the assassin could compensate for the kinetic shock, she lunged. Her black blade hissed through the air, plunging directly into his heart. She looked up, catching the eye of Shen Mo, who was already drawing another arrow, his sights locked onto the remaining Foundation Establishment assassin.

"Kill them all!" Shen Yu roared.

The battle turned into a brutal struggle of attrition. Xu Yi and Shen Fu threw themselves at the remaining 1st-stage Golden Core assassin, but the gap in cultivation was a chasm.

CRACK!

The assassin’s backhand sent Shen Fu flying through a stone balustrade, while his kick caught Xu Yi in the shoulder, snapping her collarbone. Despite their lower levels, they fought like cornered animals, using every dirty trick and hidden weapon in their arsenal to buy Yilan a second of breathing room.

Shen Yu and Lixue found themselves intercepted by the Peak Foundation assassin who had been circling the perimeter. He moved with a grace that mocked their efforts, his twin daggers weaving a web of death.

"You think numbers matter?" the assassin hissed, parrying Shen Yu’s spear with a violent spark.

Lixue stepped in, her Sword Intent flickering dangerously, but the strain on her 2nd-stage body was immense. Her muscles tore under the pressure of the Peak expert’s counter-strikes. Every time she swung, the assassin’s superior Qi crushed her guard, forcing her to spit blood just to stay standing.

Shen Yu’s golden eyes burned with a cold, incandescent fury. His muscles groaned under the strain, screaming in protest as he forced his frame to clash with an opponent whose raw Qi technically far surpassed his own. He deliberately took a rib-crushing blow to his side, the sickening crack of bone echoing in the air, just to buy the positioning needed to leave a shallow, crimson gash across the assassin’s arm. The agony didn’t slow him; it acted like a whetstone, sharpening his focus to a razor’s edge.

The battlefield had become a grueling, bone-snapping dance of attrition. The Syndicate assassins were faster, stronger, and more experienced, grinding the Tang defenders down inch by bloody inch. Above the chaos, Wraith-043 lashed out at Mei Yilan, his blades whistling through the air as his Peak Golden Core pressure sat upon the estate like a suffocating shroud of dread.

Mei Yilan, standing amidst the carnage with blood trickling down her chin, looked at the suffering of her people and let out a long, weary sigh.

"You know," she began, her voice eerily calm despite the storm of Qi around her. "I never truly liked the title they gave me."

"Crimson Sword Master," she repeated, her tone dripping with mockery. "How could I, a woman who has always preferred the weight of her own fists, ever be satisfied with a name that ties me to a blade?"

To the shock of every assassin present, she sheathed the absolute black blade, returning it to her storage ring. She stood empty-handed for a heartbeat before a violent, scorching red Qi began to swirl around her left hand, while a vibrant, pulsating green Qi spiraled around her right.

She slammed her fists together.

"I never wanted to use this."

The impact of her colliding fists was like a miniature sun igniting in the heart of the estate. The Fire and Wood elements reacted with explosive, alchemical violence, the Wood Qi fueling the Fire until the embers roared into an untamable furnace.

Her aura didn’t just expand; it turned savage. Her elegance stripped away, she settled into a low, predatory stance, radiating the raw, primal presence of a war goddess. As the heat reached its peak, her flowing black hair began to glow, the ends turning a searing, molten red.

She locked her gaze onto Wraith-043, whose predatory grin finally began to falter as he felt the air in his lungs turn to ash.

"I may only have the strength for a single strike in this form," Yilan whispered, the heat from her breath shimmering like a desert mirage. "And the backlash will likely leave me broken. But I can promise you one thing...."

"You won’t be walking out of this estate alive."