In a farmhouse in a small mountain village, two groups of people were facing each other. Both sides were prepared for a fight, with roughly equal numbers. The atmosphere was tense... an ominous silence filled with the smell of gunpowder.,In the middle of the courtyard sat a young man, about twenty years old. Even for this group of assassins who had long been accustomed to seeing people, they could only describe his appearance as "amazing." If his looks were already unparalleled, then his cold and noble temperament was even more unique.,After a while, Zi collected the things in his hand and slightly raised his head. His eyes, devoid of sorrow or joy, swept over the black people in the courtyard. They all held their breath. As professional assassins, they sensed danger in an instant and instinctively took defensive postures. Suddenly, a light chuckle broke the tense atmosphere.。