TYRANNY: HOW TO CREATE A WORLD

No matter what I do, death has its arms open, waiting for me to leap into its embrace!

"So, you're offering a bribe and denying it at the same time?" He decided to crank up the amusement, elevating the tension of this dull and stifling day even further. He couldn't help it; he was thoroughly exasperated, and this action definitely aligned with his character.

The other imperial guard across the table attempted to apologize and defuse the situation, aiming to talk and then send the young couple away with just a few silver coins lost. However, right at that moment, the voice of the young man echoed throughout the tea house.

"Enough, I'm tired of this!" As he turned his head, he witnessed the young man's dagger being drawn from his waist at an incredible speed, and in an instant, as if slicing through a straw puppet, the young man easily severed his friend's throat(Imperial Guards friend).

In an instant, he saw the splatter of blood from the deep gash on his friend's throat hit his face, and simultaneously, he lunged for his sword. A seasoned soldier with battle experience as an imperial guard, he knew he had to act swiftly, but at that moment, he felt a chill behind him. The spouse of the couple, the young woman, had appeared behind him.

The woman's dagger was advancing towards his throat so rapidly that he had no time to draw his sword. The idea that the only solution was to place an obstacle between his throat and the dagger raced through every corner of his mind in an instant. He positioned his hand between his throat and the dagger in this fleeting moment, but this thought he had conceived was invalidated by the incredible sharpness of the dagger and a strength that did not match the woman's appearance.

Ignoring his four fingers, the dagger created a cut on his throat that was at least two finger-widths deep. The blood spurting from his friend's throat collided in the air with the blood gushing from his own throat and finger.

With this event, the first person in the tea house to notice what was happening was the zither-playing woman, and in a stern tone, she threw the zither aside. Utilizing the full strength of her feminine voice, she screamed and retreated behind the curtain, taking refuge in its concealment.

The other waitstaff were no different; they had reacted even faster than the guards. It was as if they had been rehearsing this moment for several months.

Inside, there were a total of four couples, and when everyone saw what the last couple initiated, they all grabbed their weapons. Before the guards could comprehend what was happening, each of them had a dagger at their back or a sword strike to their throat, ending their involvement.

Among the couples, the first ones to enter the tea house were the most cautious. Their swords hadn't yet been stained with blood, and they stood before the curtain. They placed a meter of distance between themselves and the curtain, and the young man sliced through the curtain with his sword.

In the meantime, the other couples had already joined the first couple, extending their wrists toward the people behind the curtain. On their wrists, sharp and extremely pointed arrowheads, gleaming like stars even in the weak sunlight, were easily visible. These were recently developed forearm crossbows, highly effective at short range.

As the sharp blade sliced through the air, the curtain descended slowly to the ground, swaying as if in a windy atmosphere. Simultaneously, it revealed the two individuals hidden behind the curtain.

The two individuals behind the curtain had already risen to their feet. The man, dressed in civilian attire, had curly hair that could be considered somewhat long. As the curtain fell to the ground, the shock brought on by the death of the guards had wrinkled his face, opened his eyes wide like a calf awaiting its turn for slaughter, and caused all the hairs on his body to stand on end.

The armored man next to him was calmer compared to the terrified man appearing as a merchant beside him. In fact, his long white hair, flowing over his shoulders, lightly stirred with the gentle breeze coming in through the open window, and some short hairs on his forehead lightly brushed against his long eyelashes, imparting an air of natural tranquility that unexpectedly reflected into the hearts of the enemies.

Clad in silver-gleaming armor, the man looked at the eight enemies before him, seemingly unfazed about the foes in front of him after his white hair. Then, he raised his right hand. His intention was to protect the merchant beside him. Thankfully, his fear did not materialize, and the eight enemies in front of him allowed the merchant to escape.

When they were alone in the room, the man with the hooked nose who made the first move spoke. "Finally... We've finally caught you alone!" The pleasure derived from this moment was etched so deeply onto the face of the man with the hooked nose that he wished his face would remain like this for the rest of his life.

"Great plan," said the white-haired man, his voice capable of soothing anything in the world. His voice was like that of a bird living in a forest that had never seen a human before, emanating from the purest and cleanest corner of the world, painted with a thousand colors. It created only the desire in people's hearts to sit across from him and listen.

"We had to wear these damn outfits just for this. I must admit, you hid well." The man with the hooked nose could already anticipate the pleasure he would derive from killing the repulsive-faced(According to him) creature in front of him. Hence, every word he spoke was brimming with passion.

Still, this pleasure knotted like a loop around the throat of the man with the hooked nose. The handsome young man standing beside him, displaying his leadership, raised his voice. "Enough! We came here to kill, not to chat!" he declared, and he was the first to move in front of everyone. His leather boots hit the ground firmly, and in a single leap, he covered several meters of distance, reaching the white-haired man. At that moment, the others had also fired their forearm crossbows, nearly surrounding the white-haired man without leaving him any room to escape.

The initial attack was a diagonal slash from the upper right to the lower left, appearing as an unavoidable assault with the crossbow arrows. Nevertheless, the white-haired man remained calm until the very last moment and vanished from his position just as the sword was about to strike his shoulder gap in the armor. Whether it was an illusion or something truly feasible, the handsome man couldn't tell at that moment, but when he looked down at his chest, he saw two deep sword cuts. In the meantime, he turned his head and, from the corner of his eye, saw the white-haired man passing by with a gust of wind. Amidst the fluttering white hair, he could see the tranquility in the reddish eyes looking at him. During this time, he couldn't bear the pain either. As his body spun in the air, he fell back against the wall. He suddenly realized he was experiencing extreme blood loss.

His eyes were involuntarily beginning to close. So much blood was spurting from the two deep diagonal cuts on his chest that his body turned pallid within a few seconds. Even though the room was cold, cold sweat began to form on his skin as if icy waters were coursing through his veins.

He struggled to force his eyes open and instantly regretted doing so, even regretted what his eyes saw. The white-haired man had appeared in front of his companions the moment he opened his eyes. In an instant, he saw that a few centimeters of his four comrades' heads had been lifted from their necks.

Moreover, before they even fell, he saw that the white-haired man had grabbed the neck of the hooked-nose comrade with his left hand and hurled him toward the other two dagger-wielding women. He witnessed the daggers impaling the hooked-nose man in the process.

Subsequently, he observed the white-haired man kicking one of the fallen women, causing her neck to twist unnaturally. Finally, he witnessed the beautiful woman with the enchanting smile, who happened to be his partner, having her arm holding the dagger severed.

The ensuing scene was even bloodier. Despite having lost her arm, the woman didn't give up. She attempted to attack again using her other hand to grip the dagger, but the outcome was worse. She lost another arm. After losing both arms, she realized she had no weapons left to use. She knelt and sat down. She was still alive. Despite liters of blood pouring from her severed arms, she cast a glance at her initial attacker, then raised her head to get a better view of the white-haired man. At that moment, a long, slender sword impaled her throat. The sword entered her throat as easily as a knife being thrust into a loaf of bread, piercing through and exiting the back of her neck.

After killing seven individuals, the white-haired man turned his head and looked at the first man he had thought he killed, his expression one of surprise. The handsome man's eyes were still open, and he was taking short, labored breaths. In those eyes, nearing death, there was only regret. It wasn't the regret of not completing his mission; it was a regret that hinted at the realization that his entire life had been a lie.

"No, impossible... How can this be? Why...?" The dying young man couldn't comprehend what had just occurred. He had been in countless battles, encountering all kinds of people, yet he was seeing someone like this for the first time... and for the last time.

At that moment, the white-haired man had come before him. "The brave should be rewarded," he said and slowly drove his slender, elongated sword into the young man's throat, just as he had done to the woman moments ago.

The regret in the dying man's eyes awakened a power within him, and as the sword pierced his throat, he managed to utter, "You... How... Can you be this strong... Ughhh!"

Before he could finish his words, the sword had plunged into his throat, shredding whatever flesh and blood resided within.

Nevertheless, even though his eyes closed and he knew he would die shortly, he heard the echoing sounds in the tea house.

"Sir, you're amazing!" came the raspy voice of an elderly person, filled with an element of adoration.

"Did the merchant get scared enough?" echoed the white-haired man's words throughout the tea house. As if dying wasn't enough, the dying man was now hearing these voices as if they were coming from all around the room.

"Yes, sir, the plan worked. Many merchants will now see you differently. We've come one step closer to our target with this plan," the elderly voice conveyed the desired words with excitement.

"Hmm," the white-haired man's response was merely a simple nod.

At that moment, the man with the sword impaled in his throat by the wall took his last breath. The words he heard as he breathed his last had caused him to depart this life entirely regretful.

"Was I... Was I just an inconsequential person in a plan to frighten a mere merchant?"

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