The Ultimate Weapon of Magic and Science

This situation was inexplicably weird -- and scary, but the mere fact that hair can grow and move was already shocking enough. What was even more stunning was the one controlling these threads.

Tyr and Thor exchanged glances and leaped backward. So far, the other party had, in the manner of overwhelming force, adequately indicated their intentions of not resorting to combat. They were no match for the opponent and didn't need to further provoke them.

They were, after all, fighters with a strong sense of pride, not ruffians or scoundrels. The honor of a warrior, the dignity of an elf -- these were their bottom lines.

While they could no longer attack the dark-haired strange individual, they also couldn't simply retreat and leave themselves exposed to an invader of unknown identity. After all, this would go against their sense of responsibility and dignity.

The situation had become rather bizarre and somewhat ridiculous. On the one hand, there was no interest in action, and on the other, there was no power to act. They didn't know exactly how to respond to such an unprecedented situation.

The dilemma of advancing or retreating was finally interrupted by a low horn sound. The elf young men turned and left with swift movement, and within moments, their figures faded into the milky white fog that filled the valley.

"They are exceptional young men...right?"

"As you say."

The shadow emerged from the shrubs after the elves left, landing silently which hardly gave one the sense of another person's presence. Only the shadow's clothes, unaccustomed to the environment, made it stand out more than the dark-haired young man.

The abrupt man in black stood beside the young man, his demeanor respectful and humble.

"Master Li Lin."

A mocking smile surfaced on his face, contrasting with the respect his subordinate was due to show. His red eyes moved from the milky mist to Wali, filling with blame.

"I don't like nitpicking, nor do I enjoy flexing my authority by admonishing my subordinates with harsh words. There is, though, one condition: the work of my subordinates must be up to par. But right now…Mr. Wali, it's clear that your subordinates need more training. Working under the Count seems to have made them somewhat complacent."

"My deepest apologies, sir."

The man glanced dangerously at the group emerging from the woods—some were on their knees, retching. Wali's already pale and sickly face turned a shade of ugly grey.

"It's my fault, I've been too lenient with them."

Assassins who cannot effectively follow their master's actions can hardly be considered satisfactory. Although Li Lin has only verbally expressed his dissatisfaction, one cannot predict how this unpredictably strict master will react next time. Perhaps these feeble idiots won't even get a 'next time.'

[It's about time they got a taste of that hellish training again.]

While his heart holds contempt enough to instill fear in his subordinates, Wali's old face, scarred with wrinkles, remains unchanged.

"The necessity of training is inevitable. I have made a few adjustments in the details and will provide you with a new training outline soon."

Discarding the mocking smile, his tone becomes serious.

Li Lin accepted these assassins to increase his power. In the process of future development, some versatile individuals would certainly be needed. But he had no intention of turning a group of assassins into special forces or terrorists, he hardly considered this seemingly attractive option.

What Li Lin needs is an intelligence system, or rather, a spy agency.

In this world of swords and magic, the thing Li Lin lacks and needs most is undoubtedly information. It can easily surpass various other alternatives.

The transmission of information in this world is completely blocked, and compared with the explosion of information from his birthplace, the difference is substantial enough to cause despair

To achieve that set goal, Li Lin required a copious amount of information—military, economic, political, cultural, geographical, and life. It would be better to start work on forming an intelligence foundation sooner rather than later. The next phase of training for the assassins has been planned—it will be a transformational process.

This group isn't completely ignorant about intelligence work. The assassins here have a bit of a tradition in dealing with information.

According to Wali, besides the Inquisition and the Heretical Tribunal from Ymir stationed in various countries so far, other countries have not established official intelligence agencies. Even the aforementioned two groups face considerable resistance in their development and penetration in various countries—they are not allowed to interfere beyond religious affairs and the expulsion of heretics.

The church rarely has dealings with assassins, and ordinary employers—those kings and nobles—provide limited information to the assassins. To be able to work successfully and get paid enough needed to survive, the assassins had to conduct their intelligence gathering work. Over time, this ancient profession of assassins gradually formed its own intelligence system, and intelligence became one of the essential skills in this industry.

With a certain base, they can add new content to their training. They can pick appropriate times for a series of practical drills for team building. Li Lin believes he can eventually select the personnel he needs, and with the insurance measures prepared—

"I have decided on a training supervisor. They are perfect for the job."

A weak smile, as casual as would be found in mundane family discussions, concealed the thoughts he held in mind. Wali could only deduct one clear message from the literal meaning of the conversation.

[Those guys are in big trouble.]

Assassins, who have long been desensitized by their bloody life, constructed a sentence that sounded like a sigh from within. His grimy eyes glanced sideways at his subordinates who were slowly regaining their breath.

"The welcoming party is on their way, we shouldn't just stand here."

His red eyes were no longer focused on the silent assassins. His clear and plump eyes reflected the silhouettes of people moving in the fog. His eyelids playfully blinked.

"I hope the elves can make a rational judgement. Living in such a place, they should be able to make a wise decision."

About the first step in front of him, the foundation's establishment. The mocking face was hidden, the nerves and muscles that control the expression have adjusted to the most effective state—sincere, peaceful, and a smiling face that can give a good impression.

"I am truly looking forward to it."