Chapter 4: I said, let there be light.

“Thirteenth bookshelf, third row… second book.”

The man’s long fingers danced across the cold spines of the books before finally finding his target. Without hesitation, he pulled the book from the shelf.

It was an ordinary-looking book, even its cover barely different from the others around it.

But the moment Zong Mi pulled it out, the entire bookshelf began trembling from the bottom, producing a faint rumble. The ground slowly sank, revealing an underground staircase just wide enough for two people to pass through side by side.

The librarian had mentioned that this row of shelves stood at the very end of the entire Gazi Library. The books placed here were mostly travel journals and records from across the continent—completely inconspicuous among piles of magic tomes and martial skill manuals. Few people ever came here.

Zong Mi lowered his gaze toward the staircase, returned the book to its place, and softly spoke:

“Let there be light.”

【Level 4 True Word Spell / Judgment Successful】
【Level 1 Light Magic — Illumination / Activated】

A glow suddenly flickered to life at his fingertips. It was not especially bright, but more than enough to light the way.

Gazi was not merely the central main city—it was also a place hiding countless secrets.

For example, the place Zong Mi was heading toward now.

Beneath Gazi existed an enormous underground structure, no less prosperous than the city above.

The library was only one of many entrances leading underground. This subterranean city allowed only one class profession to enter. Zong Mi had only discovered it accidentally through the visions of his eyes.

There stood an organization known as the Assassin Temple.

Many NPCs chatting in taverns would occasionally reveal fragments of information about the Assassin Temple. Some claimed it stood atop the snowy peaks of the North Silica Mountains. Others insisted it was beside the Skeleton Ponds of the Undead Domain. Some said it hid within the shadows behind the Void Fortress, or deep within the Death Desert of the Western Continent.

Yet very few people knew that this famous organization had actually established its headquarters beneath the central main city itself—in the last place anyone would suspect.

It wasn’t as though players had never chosen the assassin class. The problem was that the prerequisite level for starting the Assassin Temple advancement quest was Level 80.

Right now, even the highest-level players were probably still slightly below Zong Mi’s level, at most only a little above Level 50. There was no way players could reach the temple during this stage.

The underground passage was pitch-black, but the stone floor was covered with a crimson carpet.

The assassins of the Assassin Temple were rather interesting people. During missions, they could survive harsh conditions, go days without food, endure countless physical discomforts, and patiently wait for the perfect killing strike.

Yet in their daily lives, they treated themselves extravagantly whenever possible.

After all, assassination was an extremely high-paying profession. The elite assassins accepted into the Assassin Temple were even wealthier—one job casually earned thousands of gold coins. They were practically drowning in money.

Since Zong Mi was not an assassin-class player, he naturally lacked the Eagle Eye and Night Vision skills every assassin possessed.

He walked forward while holding up the faint light source at his fingertips. Only after reaching the end of the staircase and seeing the dim glow ahead did he extinguish the light.

Before him stood the entrance to the temple.

Even from afar, he could see the giant stone doors engraved with the Assassin Temple’s skull emblem. Combined with the eerie blue flames illuminating the hall, the place sent chills down one’s spine.

“Pass.”

The assassins standing on both sides of the entrance suddenly spoke as he attempted to step inside. Daggers flashed through the air, sharp blades stopping right in front of Zong Mi.

Ah… a pass permit. That was troublesome.

The Assassin Temple’s pass token was a small dagger normally granted upon joining the temple.

And since Zong Mi was not an assassin, he obviously did not possess such a thing.

“My apologies. I’m not a member of the temple. I only came here searching for an old friend I haven’t seen in many years.”

He spoke sincerely, even putting on a friendly smile.

Anyone capable of finding the Assassin Temple already proved quite a lot. The temple had never rejected wealthy clients who came to its doors.

The assassins guarding the entrance exchanged glances and quickly reached an agreement.

“Then please wait here a moment.”

There was naturally a reason why Zong Mi had come.

This expansion update had arrived far too suddenly. Although he suspected it was related to something he had done previously, ten years was still enough time to change many things.

First, he needed to personally confirm whether the companions who once fought beside him had all continued striving forward and become the people he had foreseen in the future.

“Good day. May I ask who it is you’re looking for?”

Today’s duty officer of the Assassin Temple was a Level 76 assassin. Like every assassin entering and leaving the temple, he wore the signature stealth outfit along with a gray-black mask that made him appear exceptionally mysterious.

Inside the temple or during missions, assassins always dressed this way. But once they removed their equipment during daily life, who knew how handsome the faces beneath those masks might actually be?

“His name is Eric.”

Zong Mi knew the temple’s traditions well.

Because assassins frequently accepted outside jobs and often made enemies, simply giving a name was useless. So he followed it by reporting a long string of numbers.

That number sequence was the identification code assigned to every assassin upon joining the temple. It was rarely shared with outsiders and was jokingly referred to as an assassin’s second life.

But the person Zong Mi sought was different.

Ten years ago, they had fought through life and death together as brothers. Naturally, Zong Mi knew his brother’s identification number.

“Eric?”

The duty officer’s expression became somewhat strange, though the mask concealed most of it from view.

After a moment, he let out an “Oh,” as if suddenly realizing something, and began flipping through the thick tome in his hands.

The name “Eric” was uncommon. Even in the common language, its pronunciation sounded awkward. Anyone experienced would immediately recognize it as a non-human name.

The Descending Continent was home to countless races—dragons, elves, vampires, demons, angels, undead, beastfolk, and many others.

However, compared to humans, these races were far fewer in number. Humans therefore occupied most of the continent and gradually established several empires centered around human rule.

“Are you certain this is the correct name?”

The officer looked up from the thick tome and asked again uncertainly.

Zong Mi noticed the strange look on his face—a kind of indescribable fear.

“Yes.”

In truth, the officer had no reason to ask again, because Zong Mi had already provided the assassin identification number.

So there was no possibility of a mistake.

The assassin officer seemed about to carefully choose his words when his expression suddenly changed. He raised a hand, signaling Zong Mi to wait, before quickly disappearing into a nearby shadow.

Zong Mi glanced over briefly before losing interest and looking away.

Assassins possessed many fascinating communication methods. One of them was an ancient secret curse passed down since the Age of Gods. Supposedly, as long as one had enough mana, it could achieve effects similar to the players’ private messaging system.

The world of Descending had a rule: nothing nonexistent could be created from thin air.

Thus, even holographic technology merely imitated methods that already existed within Descending before converting them into interfaces familiar to humans.

Unfortunately, due to various reasons, Zong Mi still could not learn the assassins’ secret curses—not until all four expansion updates had been completed.

Each expansion update adjusted human souls to frequencies more compatible with this world.

But Zong Mi’s soul…

…had never been particularly compatible from the beginning.

“Apologies for the wait.”

When the officer returned, his attitude had completely changed. He respectfully bowed and asked:

“Please wait inside the temple. We need to reconfirm the identity of the assassin you are… searching for.”

Naturally, Zong Mi noticed the sudden shift in attitude. After pondering briefly, he nodded.

“Thank you for the trouble.”

“Not at all. Praise be to the God of Night. It is our duty.”

The officer repeatedly bowed while secretly glancing at Zong Mi’s appearance, inwardly regretting his earlier oversight.

Golden hair. Gray eyes.

He had actually failed to recognize the top-priority mission personally posted by the Hall Master on the temple patrol pillars.

Thus, Zong Mi was respectfully escorted into the temple hall.

For some unknown reason, the few assassins he encountered along the way all looked at him strangely.

Though strange, they were also highly cautious. Whenever Zong Mi’s gaze swept toward them, they quickly looked away, as though afraid he might notice something unusual.

Zong Mi was only Level 50-something, yet these elite Level 60 and 70 assassins—people who could easily see through his level—were treating him with extraordinary respect.

The treatment honestly left him somewhat flattered.

His intuition told him it was probably connected to the brother he had not seen in ten years.

“Please wait here.”

The assassins led him beside the only stone chair within the temple hall, asked him to wait a moment, and respectfully withdrew.

Zong Mi narrowed his eyes and began examining the chair.

The stone chair stood directly at the center of the hall. Its armrests appeared to have been sliced flat by something sharp, and beneath it rested an enormous pedestal over two meters tall. Combined with the Assassin Temple’s emblem decorating it, it was obvious this was no seat an ordinary person could occupy.

Zong Mi knew of this chair.

Long ago, he had once read hidden information regarding the Assassin Temple in a continental travel record.

The chair was said to be a relic left behind by an assassin grandmaster who rose to prominence during the dark era of warfare following the Age of Gods. Legend claimed that while seated upon this throne, the grandmaster comprehended the true meaning left behind by the Goddess of Night and successfully stepped into the demigod realm.

From that point onward, the chair became the symbol of the Assassin Temple.

Only the Hall Master—the number one chief assassin—was qualified to sit upon it.

It symbolized supreme authority over the night itself. Just as ambitious rulers longed for a throne, this seat represented the spiritual symbol of all assassins.

Lost in thought while observing the chair, Zong Mi failed to notice the unusual silence spreading throughout the hall.

By the time he realized the temple had become so quiet that even a falling pin could be heard—that he seemed to be the only one left inside—the shadow cast by the firelight on the ground had already become two.

“Eric?”

Just as he was about to look up, a shadow suddenly covered him.

A faint scent of blood lingered around his nose.

Every flame within the temple abruptly extinguished, leaving only the assassin’s deep violet eyes swaying clearly within the darkness.