I Really Am A Villain

The assassins of Sun-Moon Tower were renowned throughout the entire Ghost-God Heaven.

Among all assassins under heaven, ten parts of skill were said to exist, and Sun-Moon Tower possessed seven of them.

Its most glorious feat in history was when three Grand Emperor assassins were dispatched to kill a Saint Sovereign. One struck at the Saint’s body, while the other two targeted his Life-Death Soul. The mission succeeded, and from that moment on, Sun-Moon Tower’s name resounded across the nine heavens, its reputation shaking even gods and ghosts.

After that, Sun-Moon Tower flourished. It recruited and trained assassins from every corner of the world. Many powerful figures would even pay extravagant prices to hire its assassins, not to kill, but to serve as unseen bodyguards.

In the present age, no assassin walked the land without some connection to Sun-Moon Tower.

Even here, in Royal City, where the Wang Heavenly Clan ruled supreme, their authority did not extend over Sun-Moon Tower’s branch. That, most likely, was the very reason the Lu Heavenly Clan had chosen to stay here.

When Xu Zimo arrived at Sun-Moon Tower, he looked up. The building wasn’t tall, barely a dozen stories, yet each level was exquisitely designed, exuding an antique charm.

Dragons and phoenixes were carved into blue-gray bricks. Moss and trailing vines wrapped around the pillars. The air carried an air of nostalgia, as though the tower had emerged from the sighs of forgotten centuries.

From afar, Sun-Moon Tower stood stately and timeless, a relic of ancient poetry and legend, steeped in a tranquil grandeur.

It was said, “One Sun-Moon Tower births three hundred poems.”

Inside, though it was merely the first floor, the atmosphere was refined and quiet, untouched by noise.

The Lu entourage occupied a private room upstairs, but Xu Zimo didn’t bother to seek them out.

He chose a window seat, where a stick of musk incense burned beside him, its soothing fragrance clearing the mind and lifting the spirit.

The entire staff of Sun-Moon Tower consisted of women, even the proprietor herself, a poised woman with long, flowing hair. Each table held a thick menu, and beautiful attendants stood by with polite smiles.

“Bring me a few of your signature dishes,” Xu Zimo said casually, “and a pot of your best wine.”

“Please wait a moment, young master,” the attendant replied with a bow before gliding away.

Sun-Moon Tower’s reputation was well deserved. Within minutes, the food and wine arrived, fragrant and elegant.

Xu Zimo took a bite. In taste alone, it easily ranked among the top three meals he had ever had.

As he ate, another figure entered the tower.

He was tall and lean, wearing a bamboo hat and carrying a massive broadsword across his back.

His gait was steady and commanding, like a dragon pacing and a tiger striding. He sat down at the table beside Xu Zimo.

“I want your strongest wine,” the man said hoarsely, not even removing his hat.

His voice was weary, every word carried the weight of exhaustion.

“Would the young master like to order any food?” the attendant asked gently. “Our strongest wine, few in the world can drink it without falling drunk.”

“No need,” he replied faintly. “Just the wine. Once I’m drunk, I won’t fear death anymore.”

It was half a joke, half despair.

The attendant said nothing more and soon returned with a sealed jar of wine.

Its red label read three bold characters.

The Drunk Celestial.

The jar was old, its clay lid rust-stained from years of storage.

When the man saw the red label, something flickered behind his calm demeanor. His suppressed aura surged briefly, and the label tore apart in mid-air without him touching it.

The attendant flinched in shock.

“Apologies,” the man murmured. “It wasn’t directed at you.”

Then he lifted the jar and drank straight from it, long gulps, fiery and unrestrained. The liquor burned down his throat and spilled from the corners of his mouth.

“Young master, it’s not appropriate for you to meet Miss Nanyi now. The engagement ceremony is the day after tomorrow!”

“Get out of my way! You think I need anyone’s permission to see my own fiancée? I’ll see her whenever I want!”

The shouting outside shattered the tranquil silence of Sun-Moon Tower.

A noisy entourage entered through the door. At their center was a young man surrounded like a pampered star among servants.

His face was pale, not the fair complexion of nobility, but the sickly white of someone drained of vitality. His steps were light and unsteady.

He wore a long robe of gaudy, multicolored silk, making him look flamboyant and tasteless. His long hair was tied back, and his single-lidded eyes were shadowed by dark circles. Loud and arrogant, he strode inside.

“Where’s the manager of Sun-Moon Tower?” he shouted.

“Brother Wang, don’t shout carelessly,” one of his companions warned in a low voice. “The manager here is on equal footing with your father.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” the young man said carelessly. “We’re not looking for the manager. I just want to know, where are the Lu Heavenly Clan’s guests from Lu City staying?”

The attendant, calm and professional despite the noise, smiled and answered, “The Lu Heavenly Clan is in a private room on the second floor.”

“Good. Come on, let’s go see my fiancée,” the young man laughed.

“They say she’s a rare beauty of the millennium!”

“Yes,” one flatterer added quickly. “Lady Lu Nanyi is not only breathtakingly beautiful but also incredibly talented. The Patriarch arranged this engagement for you, young master, surely a sign you’re to be the next heir of the Wang Heavenly Clan!”

Everyone present knew the truth, Wang Shi was a useless heir, arrogant and spoiled, but no one dared say it aloud.

Wang Shi grinned widely, clearly pleased. “Don’t worry! Follow me, and there’ll be benefits enough for everyone.”

The group echoed their agreement eagerly as Wang Shi began walking toward the stairs.

“Excuse me, young master,” the attendant said, stepping forward politely. “You’re welcome to dine here, of course. But unless the Lu Heavenly Clan permits it, you cannot enter their private room without invitation.”

“Why not?” Wang Shi stopped, frowning.

“It’s one of Sun-Moon Tower’s rules,” she replied with a courteous smile.

“What kind of ridiculous rule is that?” Wang Shi sneered. “Do you even know who I am?”

“No matter who you are,” the attendant replied evenly, “the rules of Sun-Moon Tower apply to all. Please mind your words, young master.”

Wang Shi’s expression darkened. He was used to throwing his weight around under the Wang Heavenly Clan’s name, few ever dared to oppose him.

But here, within Sun-Moon Tower, he didn’t quite have the nerve to make a scene.

“You,” he said finally, pointing at one of his attendants. “Go tell the Lu Heavenly Clan that Wang Shi is here. Have them come down to greet me.”

As the attendant hurried upstairs, the man in the bamboo hat, who had been sitting beside Xu Zimo, slowly stood up.

He set down his jar of The Drunk Celestial, swaying slightly as he walked toward the door.

His steps were unsteady, his figure wavering between sobriety and intoxication. The wine truly was as strong as the attendant had warned.

As he passed by Wang Shi’s group, he stumbled and accidentally bumped into one of them.

“Drunken fool! You looking for death?” the man snarled, kicking him hard to the floor.

“I’m sorry, young master,” the man in the hat said quickly. “It was an accident.”