Not far from Huaxia, near the border with Japan, there's a small town.

Most of the people living in this town are islanders from Japan.

However, the population is not large.

They mainly rely on fishing for a living, or provide services like bars, accommodation, entertainment, and so on.

Because many desperate men and mercenaries occasionally pass through here to rest.

This place is on the edge of the international dark underground world, hovering between normal society and darkness.

The local town residents are already accustomed to the murderous or strange mercenaries.

At this moment, on a hill with only one path in and out, a man with three scars on his Eastern face is speaking greedily to the thirty-some people standing neatly in front of him:

"Brothers, the boss just sent information from Huaxia, the last mission failed."

"Based on analysis, it's likely we failed against the Yanhuang Soul people."

"The other side has already increased the bounty eightfold."

From the expressions of these thirty-some people, a faint sense of killing intent can be perceived, clearly not kind-hearted.

"Our Poison Snake Killer Organization is financially tight lately. As long as we complete this job, it'll be enough for us brothers to enjoy a month in the town."

Upon hearing this, the thirty-some assassins' eyes shone with greed and lust.

The local Japanese women living here are irresistibly attractive, especially their gentleness and compliance that greatly satisfy men's desire for conquest.

"Heh, heh, this time, we won't let that migrant worker named Lin Hai escape!"

Among the thirty assassins, the leader exudes a fierce killing intent, his face sharp and cold, with dozens of hideous scars on his neck shining ruthlessly under the sun.

"When can we move out?"

The leader asked the scarred man again.

"You can move out now, anytime. Just kill that migrant worker named Lin Hai without drawing the attention of the Huaxia government, you can use any assassination methods."

"As far as I know, the data says he's recently cohabiting with several beauties, you know what to do." The scarred man let out a sleazy, creepy laugh.

"Hahaha." A group of third-rank assassins let out rambunctious laughter.

The leader waved and thirty-some assassins quieted down.

"Since that's settled, move out now, infiltrate Yanjing, and after the kill, return with the head."

After speaking, the assassin leader told the scarred man, "Tell the boss, we'll definitely complete the task."

"Go to Yanjing, kill, kill, kill!"

The group of assassins' eyes instantly turned bloodthirsty.

"Move out!"

"Move out, finish this job, we'll eat well, drink well, play with Japanese women!"

Following the leader's command, the thirty-some third-rank assassins immediately took action, each heading towards the sole path down the hill.

At this moment, suddenly, eerie laughter echoed all around.

"Heh heh."

The sound eerily abrupt, seemingly coming from all directions, causing all assassins to halt.

"Who's there!"

Leading the assassins, the leader's eyes glared fiercely, his savage face wrinkled with suspicion, asked in a deep voice.

Cra-crack-crack—

The sound of something like a chair wheel continuously grinding against the ground arose.

Only to see at the only entrance and exit of the hill, a small figure slowly emerging.

For some reason, as this person's profile just appeared in the crowd's sight, under the blazing sun, it gave a feeling of plunging into ice.

Subsequently, all assassins froze, because in front of them appeared a person in a wheelchair.

His hands were withered, the whole person appearing exceedingly frail, except for the countless dense scar-like tattoos exposed on his arms and neck.

The assassin leader and the scarred man looked at the unexpectedly appearing wheelchair man and immediately asked in a deep voice, "Who are you!"

The other assassins also drew their weapons, ready to take down this sudden appearance.

The wheelchair-bound man gently squeezed his withered fingers, emitting a series of bone joint sounds, the deep scars on his face particularly striking under the sun.

He seemed oblivious to the thirty-some killers around him as his merciless and indifferent pupils gleamed, his lips curling into a cruel smile, "People like to call me Reincarnation Shura."

Reincarnation Shura?

Upon hearing this name, all assassins were slightly stupefied.

The scarred man was also perplexed, what's Shura?

And the assassin leader, evidently having more experience than others.

Upon hearing Shura's name, his heart inexplicably tightened.

Once, while roaming the international dark underground world, he heard of someone, crippled, with no legs, but single-handedly obliterated several hundred mercenaries.

That man almost every time he carried out a task, achieved victory and returned, leaving not a single survivor.

In the international underground world, there's a saying, where Shura goes, not even weeds grow.

A disabled person created a legendary tale among mercenaries.

Thirty-plus low-level assassins, at most only roam within Huaxia, usually hiding here, never heard the term Reincarnation.

But in the international dark underground world, Blood-Colored Reincarnation represents a top-tier influential existence.

Reportedly, that power was personally created by the King of Assassins, and its name closely resembles the Mercenary Group King's Reincarnation Security Company.

In short, Reincarnation and Shura, upon these two keywords being heard by countless international experts, their hearts would tighten, showing apprehension.

The scarred man just intended to order the assassins to finish off the cripple in front, but the assassin leader quickly stopped his action.

Sweat naturally seeped from his forehead, the assassin leader lost his earlier composure and fierceness.

"Sh... Shura Lord, it seems we haven't offended you."

While saying this, the assassin leader's throat squirmed, his voice clearly uncontrollable and trembling.

Shura slowly untied the soft furry little quilt draped over his waist, exposing two empty pant legs swaying in the wind, then gently pulled out a sharp small knife from his back, finally spoke, "You intend to kill my brother, so I need to clean you out."

"What? Shura's brother? Isn't that King Yan?"

"Who the hell dares to assassinate King Yan? Who in this business doesn't know the top King of Assassins, Yama Lord's existence?"

Gulping, swallowing hard, the assassin leader opened his mouth with difficulty.

"Misunderstanding, Shura Lord, this must be a misunderstanding."

"No misunderstanding."

Shura shook his head, "My brother is named Lin Hai."

"What!"

The assassin leader's eyes almost bulged out in shock.

"Alright, time to send you all on your way."

Shura let out a chilling cruel laugh, abruptly grabbing the sharp small knife he had been playing with, as a cold light streaked by, Shura made his move.

As he moved, his mouth seemed to chant like possessed, as if reciting a mournful ballad: "Sand in the fingers, blown by the wind, that's when Brother Zhan lost her in that battle, snowflakes swirling all over, Shura wishes to kill for revenge!"