[ WP ] The world 's best hitman prepares to kill the world 's luckiest man .

`` Name your price.'' 
 
 `` White silver. Fifty thousand in white silver.'' 
 
 `` Done.'' 
 
 A clink of glasses. The clink of coins. 
 
 `` How long do I have? And who'd you need out of the Underworld?'' 
 
 `` You have half a year. Get me the head of the Nine-lived Panther.'' 
 
 Silence. 
 
 A thud. 
 
 `` Here is a hundred thousand in white silver. Take it, leave, and never come back.'' 
 
 -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - 
 
 `` Are you sure you can afford my services?'' 
 
 `` You will be well compensated, I assure you. Name your price. Any price.'' 
 
 `` I do n't want money. I do n't want your favors, either. I want secrets.'' 
 
 Hesitation. 
 
 `` A high price, indeed.'' 
 
 `` If my price was lower, I'd be prowling the streets stabbing throats every day.'' 
 
 `` Very well. The manuscript by the Jade Tiger. Method of the Tiger's Claws.'' 
 
 `` He was defeated by my sword.'' 
 
 `` That's deadliest secret technique in my family.'' 
 
 `` Yes, and it's a useless secret. Throw in one hundred and fifty thousand. Up front.'' 
 
 You could hear the sound of heartstrings tear. 
 
 `` Done.'' 
 
 `` Give me the name.'' 
 
 `` But not the deadline?'' 
 
 `` Whoever it is, they'd be dead by dawn. Does n't make a difference.'' 
 
 `` The Nine-Lived Panther.'' 
 
 The silence spoke volumes. 
 
 At last, a response. 
 
 `` You've truly struck a bargain.'' 
 
 `` Somehow, it does n't feel that way.'' 
 
 `` Well, you're a fool.'' A deep breath. `` Give me a week. And also, the Jade Tiger's jade needles. Show me their mechanism. How they could change direction mid-air.'' 
 
 `` I thought you said you did n't want our secrets.'' 
 
 `` Shut up. Or you can go find someone else to do the job.'' 
 
 -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - 
 
 The nine-lived panther was a living legend. 
 
 True, his blade was not the quickest. And his fist was not the toughest. Nor was his lineage of any particular importance. 
 
 But he was incredibly, incredibly fortunate in battle. 
 
 As far as the Nameless Ones could remember, the Nine-Lived Panther had never received anything more serious than scratches and bruises. 
 
 Even the All-Knowing Scholar, Wu Ji, was at a loss to explain his victory streak. Of course, the fact that Wu Ji's head had been loped off five months ago probably helped a bit. 
 
 And tonight, the Laughing Shadow was going to find out. The secret to the Nine-Lived Panther's success. 
 
 Not that she'd actually fight, of course. 
 
 With a grin, she barely suppressed her trademark, manic giggle. This was going to be good. 
 
 Earlier that day, the Golden Spear had received a rather interesting letter. A letter addressed to him by the Nine-Lived Panther. A letter detailing exactly how upset the Panther was with his rising fame. And it ended with a demand. 
 
 Meet up at the Silvertree Grove at midnight, or the Panther would go to his home - and the Panther knew he kept an old ma and a hot-blooded younger brother at home. 
 
 Interestingly, the Panther had also received a letter. One that was written by the Golden Spear. A greatly edited letter on the essence of chivalry, and how the Underworld was to be rid of a fame-hogging demon. It ended with a challenge - meet up at the Silvertree Grove at midnight. 
 
 And now, the combatants emerged. 
 
 -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - 
 
 The trees were not silver. They were merely normal trees. 
 
 But on the night of a full moon, when the light was just right and the night was perfectly clear - For a brief, wondrous moment, the entire grove would appear to be bathed in silver. 
 
 At least, so claimed the drunk poet that named the grove. 
 
 If he had been here on this night - a night of drifting clouds, the crescent moon grinning manically at the fighters below, he might have named it the Arena Grove instead. 
 
 Or something. Goodness knew where those drunk poets got their ideas from. 
 
 The Nine-Lived Panther stumbled, cursing, as he finally made it into the clearing. By the Immortals. He was drunk. He was so very, very, drunk. He was so drunk that he could n't have walked here. 
 
 But he did. You've got to admire that sort of dedication. 
 
 The Golden Spear disagreed. He never drank. Never celebrated. His life had been dedicated to honour, glory, and his golden spear. 
 
 To challenge him - then show up drunk - was the height of all disrespect and probably stood against everything he stood for. 
 
 The wind laughed in the branches. 
 
 The golden spear was lowered. 
 
 A flash of lightning; a bolt of the Heavens in the hands of man, a golden spear that zigged and zagged on an erratic, unpredictable path. 
 
 An erratic, unpredictable path that could only end in one way: The end of the Nine-Lived Panther. 
 
 Then a cry of shock. The lightning disappeared. 
 
 A completely normal spear - two hands still attached to it - rolled in the grass. 
 
 A head - eyes wide-open in disbelief - soon followed. 
 
 The Panther's eyes were stone-cold sober. 
 
 Without even sparing the corpse a second glance, he left. 
 
 It was such a shame. 
 
 Had he stayed for just a moment longer, he might have heard the faintest hints of a giggle make its way out deep within the shadows. 
 
 -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - 
 
 She should have guessed. It was impossible for luck to carry anyone this far. 
 
 His poor swordsmanship was faked. His seemingly reckless acts were calculated. All in a vain attempt to confuse those stronger than he was. 
 
 And, for the longest period of time, it had worked. Amazing. For a moment, she almost felt guilty for ruining such a well-crafted plan. 
 
 Almost. It was a shame. But such was the way of the Underworld. Even this plan - elaborate as it had been - was simple enough to foil with the meddling of a rich brat and a hot blooded youth. 
 
 If it fell apart around him, then the Nine-Lived Panther only had himself to blame. 
 
 Such is the Underworld. 
 
 -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
