Silent Crown

Chapter 164 Many Acts of Unrighteousness

The Ganlu Courtyard of downtown was brightly lit. In the past, this place was suffused with the smell of spices and hookah, and filled with the laughter of girls. It was elegant and opulent, and enthusiastic servants bustled around every corner. Red sleeves and white veils floated in the fragrant air. It was like paradise on Earth.

But now, there was no more paradise, and no more spices and hookah. The girls were all hiding in their rooms; the red sleeves and white veils burned in flames.

There was fire and armed thugs everywhere. The angry men in turbans rushed in from the broken door. Like a tidal wave, they surrounded the man, gripped their weapons and waited in formation.

One person. The enemy was only one person.

Attracting the gazes of all the thugs, Ghosthand took out the pipe in his mouth. "Is Silo here?"

A sympathetic sigh came from the back of the crowd. Among layers of guards, Silo gazed at him, his eyes turning regretful. Ghosthand had truly become old. When he first came to Avalon as a young man, everyone said that Ghosthand was the best assassin. No one in history could top him, and his skills were unique to the world. Everyone he had his eye on would die. He was almighty.

But then he took a job he should not have taken, touched something he should not have touched, and broke the Shaman’s rules. His hand was personally chopped off by the Shaman. Ghosthand did not accomplish much after his hand was chopped off.

Even though the hand was put back later, the broken bones could never fuse together and he became the Shaman’s dog…Not only had he aged after all these years, but had he lost his skills and techniques too?

"Why are you sighing?" Ghosthand heard his voice and laughed. Lifting his head, he studied the hawkish eyes in the back of the crowd. "Silo, I’m here to take your life but shouldn’t you be happy that two old friends like us are meeting?"

"Shouldn’t sneaky things like you be coming in in the dark?" Silo asked coldly. "Did you think that I’d give myself to you obediently after you said you’d come and find me?"

"I’m sorry, but you misunderstood." Ghosthand smiled and shook his head. Snuffing his pipe, he put it back into his pocket. His voice grew gentle. "I was a killer before, that is true. But I was never good at sneaking and secret kills. I’ve never done any work that required lurking and patience. You can say that I’m completely unskilled at that—" He paused, taking off the glove on his right hand. "—Because I like to enter from the front door."

Six covered buckles on his black leather glove opened as he moved. With each opened buckle, a leather strap tied around his hand would snap up. Snap, snap, snap, snap…

Finally, the glove that had constrained his hand for many years fell to the ground without a sound. As Ghosthand slowly rolled up his sleeves, the true appearance of the hand hidden under the long glove was finally revealed.

There was nothing under the light of the torches. Nothing at all!

Silo’s expression changed, some severe emotion flashed through his eyes. The fingers held behind his back fidgeted.

Something whistled through the air from the darkness above the roof.

Ping! An arrow dipped in dark green poison suddenly appeared, but then it froze in the air, right before Ghosthand—it was as if an invisible hand was gripping it.

Seeing everyone’s shocked expressions, Ghosthand chuckled. He "clenched his fist" and then the cracks and pops of joins came out of thin air. The arrow shattered, crumbling to dust.

Then he reached out his "hand," explored the chest of the enemy before him, and slowly pulled his hand out. There was no blood, no wounds, or anything strange, but now there was a beating heart in his hand.

The man who had lost his heart fell to the ground and did not get up again. No matter how many drugs he had taken, no matter how much vitality had been squeezed out, he could not grow another heart and was useless against this technique.

"It’s like what you see, Mr. Silo." Ghosthand stepped forward, his voice was polite. "I don’t know how to use a sword or arrow. I don’t understand poison or ambushes either. This is the only technique I know. Fifteen years ago, when I still had my right hand, I would use it to open up my enemies’ chests and dig out their hearts. When I lost right my hand, I realized that I could skip some steps. Your actions during that period brought shame to the city. But today, the shame will end."

Boom! The heart in his hands suddenly burst. Blood spewed out from between his clenched fingers like a spray of bloody rain. A drop landed on Silo’s face.

Feeling the hotness on his face, Silo blankly raised a finger and wiped his face. Seeing the blood on his finger, he froze, his face turning white. He stumbled back.

He screamed something in the Indian language. It was probably something along the lines of "Kill him" or "Destroy him without leaving his body in tact!"

And so a roar sounded abruptly through the crowd. The ascetic monk hidden amongst the muscular men suddenly acted. In an instant, the frail figure rushed out from the crowd, chanting in Sanskrit. His voice was like booming thunder.

Om—

His skin transformed into a copper bronze. He had suddenly transformed into a golden man. Even his body weight had multiplied and a sharp noise sounded when his bare feet hit the stone tiles.

As he breathed heavily, faint thunder seemed to roar within him. Strands of electric light appeared on his metallic skin, traveling and projecting. In the blink of an eye, the god of enforcement from the scriptures descended from the sky. It lifted wind and thunder out of thin air and it was terrifying.

As the monk recited the secret spell, a temporary blankness appeared in the minds of everyone in the notes’ path. But after this blankness, the golden monk wrapped in lightning and thunder had already rushed forward. His right hand was bent into a holy sign and he swung it down like a Vajra! The fist whistled through the air and created ripples in the air current. It transformed into the dharma against demons!

As the Vajra fist fell down, Ghosthand raised his hand, meeting it halfway…

Boom! Instantly, a muffle sound burst in the air. Rays of lightning shot out, blinding everyone’s eyes. They could only feel something quickly moving around in the ball of light.

It was something faster than sound, and shorter and faster than thunder. It came and left in a moment, soaring past the long distance. It was as fast as a dream that had been awoken in shock.

After that instant, there were no more loud bangs. After the blinding light faded, only two figures remained. Ghosthand was still in his original spot. The ascetic monk that had bursted into action was rooted to his spot as well, unable to move.

"What are you waiting for?" Silo yelled, urging the unmoving monk. "Kill him! I didn’t bring you here from India just so you could scare people!"

The ascetic monk still did not move.

Ghosthand studied the monk who was glaring at him. A tinge of respect appeared in his eyes and he sighed. "I can’t believe there really is a spell in this world that transforms a human body into metal. The Indian ascetics are full of hidden talents. I am impressed."

"I lost," the metallic monk said hoarsely. He closed his eyes, sighing. "Silo…run." As he spoke, the breath held in his chest finally leaked out. Without the breath, he could no longer support the spell and he returned to his body of flesh. And then he collapsed, bit by bit. He sank to the ground like liquid and became a pile of mud.

The cool moonlight shone down from the sky onto Ghosthand’s invisible hand, illuminating what was held there. It was a white skeleton, complete from head to toe. There was a shade of ashen green to the ghastly white, and it swayed in the cold wind as Ghosthand moved. In that instant, he had pulled the ascetic monk’s skeleton through the metallized flesh, and had not leave a single bone behind!

"Ten years ago, everyone knew that my hand was fast," Ghosthand murmured, gazing at the dazed eyes and white faces. "So many years have passed. I can’t believe I’ve gotten even faster."

Ten years ago, Ghosthand’s technique was one-of-a-kind. Now, it was still unmatched!

He loosened his fingers and the white skeleton fell to the ground. It crashed with a crisp sound, like a wind chime made of bone. This was the straw that broke the camel’s back—Boom!

A roar suddenly sounded in the crowd. A crazed man brandished his sword and rushed toward Ghosthand. His head was chopped off!

The mass of people rustled. The original equilibrium in the courtyard had been disrupted and the drugs began to go into the effect. The men who had lost all reason smelled the blood and went wild. Roars and howls sounded continuously and Ghosthand disappeared in the crowd.

Ten minutes later, all sound had vanished. Ganlu Courtyard had never been so peaceful and quiet in the decades it had existed. It was like a tomb, filled with deathly silence.

The only one still standing had been dyed red by blood. Lips trembling, he lit his pipe and took a deep breath before blowing out a puff of gray smoke. The drugs in the tobacco were ignited and entered his lungs with the smoke. It spread through his body, pushing down the pain from his wounds.

His shoulders, chest, back, legs and even head were dripping with blood. Some of the blood was from his enemies, some was his.

"I’m old, after all." Ghosthand sighed and furrowed his brows in pain. The dew in the night was heavy, and his rheumatism was acting up again. He had sprained his back while dodging a dagger earlier, and now he could barely walk.

Yes, he was old. Why would he deny it?

Deep down, he was a bit vexed. He was old now, so why did he have to be like the Butcher and turn his enemy’s lair into a bloodbath? Not everyone was a beast like the Butcher and would not die no matter what…

He sighed and raised his bloodied eyebrows as he gazed around. "Silo? Are you still here?"

No one replied in the silence. In the shadows, Silo held his nose, almost suffocating himself. He quietly stumbled back, but he fell onto the steps and could not move again.

"I see you. Please stay there and don’t move." Spotting him, Ghosthand’s eyes brightened. He slowly moved toward the man.

There was still nothing where his right hand should have been—only an empty sleeve cuff. But blood had dyed the invisible hand red, revealing its menacing shape. It was like the realistic reflection of a nightmare or hell. That must be what death would look like if it was something solid. How superb must a killing technique be to reach such a terrifying state?

Silo gazed blankly as Ghosthand closed in on him. His eyes were hopeless, but in the end, relief appeared in the bottomless despair.

"Ha, so karma is hitting me today, is it?" Silo laughed, mocking himself, and his eyes became relieved. "Karma will come after committing many acts of unrighteousness. Bring it on!"

He yanked down his collar, revealing his chest. He was determined to face his death. "This is the logic behind karma, right? Everyone who sins must face the punishment from fate…"

"No." Ghosthand stuck his hand into Silo’s chest and gazed at his seemingly relieved eyes. "Actually, there are people who are much more evil than you, but they lead happy lives. They’ll die in happiness with a large family. Why do you want everyone to be unlucky like you?"

Silo froze. His eyes grew stormy. The forced "relief" had been shattered and his face twisted like an evil spirit. He glared at Ghosthand and opened his mouth as if he wanted to yell or snap Ghosthand’s neck in the last struggle.

But then a soft crack sounded inside his chest. His body trembled and began spasming on the ground. Finally, he stopped. There was a short period of peace before the end of his life…but sadly, it was useless. He had wanted to die with some dignity, but sadly, death was death. There was no dignity involved, and he still died like a dog.

Under the moonlight, his corpse slowly stiffened. The dull eyes reflected the firelight he had personally lit. He had died with his eyes open.