At some point, Henry had discovered that inflicting pain on others—abusing, even torturing them to death—eased his boredom and discontent. It was a sensation that was far too addictive.

After their ropes were cut, the captive family scrambled away in a panic, fleeing into the open fields.

Henry’s face flushed with excitement as he began to fantasize about how he would "enjoy" his prey.

...

On the cliffside.

Fang Zhen’s sniper rifle was already locked onto Henry’s torso.

From his position, the straight-line distance to Henry down below was over eight hundred meters, approaching nine hundred. This was well within the AWP’s effective range.

A seasoned sniper, besides concealing their position, typically needs a spotter to calculate wind speed, air humidity, and perform environmental reconnaissance.

But Fang Zhen didn’t.

Using tools like hygrometers and anemometers is standard practice because seasoned snipers have extensive experience. They can use data on humidity and wind speed to make adjustments, knowing how such environmental parameters will affect a bullet’s trajectory and cause it to drift.

For a sniper without that kind of experience—one who hasn’t fired nearly as many rounds—that data would be of little help. In fact, it would only serve as a distraction.

Fang Zhen, however, belonged to neither category.

He didn’t have much sniping experience, having only fired five test rounds the day before, but he was no rookie.

He possessed a permanent set of firearm-related skills, as well as Weakness Perception, Critical Strike, and Intuition.

These allowed Fang Zhen to achieve the accuracy of a seasoned sniper despite his lack of practical experience.

Other snipers relied on experience and training. Fang Zhen also relied on skills, but his were of a more mystical nature. It was the difference between innate talent and acquired training.

Of the five rounds he’d fired yesterday, only the first two were for calibration and went slightly off-target. The last three all precisely struck the stationary target nine hundred meters away.

Whether innate or acquired, accuracy was all that mattered.

At this moment, the face locked in his scope was Henry’s, flushed red with excitement for the hunt to come.

Through the scope, he watched as Henry had his men release the commoners’ ropes. However, he’d left them in leg shackles to run through the fields.

Knights patrolled the flanks, herding the commoners and preventing them from escaping the designated hunting ground.

Henry seemed impatient. The commoners hadn’t gotten far before the Count galloped out, hunting bow in hand, and charged toward them. A bloodthirsty and cruel sneer contorted his face, though he seemed unaware of it.

But Henry could never have imagined that he, the self-proclaimed hunter, was now the prey in Fang Zhen’s eyes.

Fang Zhen was fully prepared.

He lowered his aim, targeting the torso rather than the smaller head.

Considering the AWP’s kinetic energy and the physical constitution of humans in the Nameless World, a torso shot would be more than enough to ensure Henry’s death.

Fang Zhen’s rifle tracked Henry’s movements.

Just as Henry raised his hunting bow, before he could nock an arrow, Fang Zhen sensed his opening.

Whether it was because Fang Zhen was in peak condition or because even the heavens could no longer tolerate Henry’s actions, in that single instant, Weakness Perception, Critical Strike, Precise Intuition, and Headshot Fiend—nearly every skill that could possibly benefit a sniper shot—all activated at once.

Fang Zhen entered a sublime state.

Though he hadn’t yet fired, a sense of certainty washed over him—he felt he could kill Henry even with a blind, no-scope shot.

Without a second thought, Fang Zhen followed his intuition and pulled the trigger.

BOOM!

The AWP’s muzzle flashed.

The bullet shot out.

Even with the suppressor attached, the sound was still considerable.

Fang Zhen felt a recoil like a sledgehammer against his shoulder, but his physical conditioning was on another level now, and he absorbed it with ease.

Through the scope.

Henry was sneering as he nocked an arrow, his expression unspeakably vile. In that same instant, the point where his jaw connected to his neck erupted in a spray of blood.

The bullet tore through his nose, shattering his cartilage and jaw. The front of his face became a bloody ruin, and the sheer kinetic energy nearly ripped his head from his shoulders as his neck bones snapped.

Henry was thrown straight back off his horse, slamming onto the ground.

A pool of blood, so dark it was nearly black, spread across the ground, mixed with a white substance that could have been brain matter or spinal fluid.

It was an unsurvivable wound.

Looking through his scope at Henry’s gruesome state on the ground, Fang Zhen’s expression remained unchanged.

He aimed at Henry’s head on the ground and, without hurrying, pulled the trigger again.

BOOM!

Another gunshot, audible only in the immediate vicinity, rang out.

A moment later, a bullet struck Henry’s skull.

The bullet blew Henry’s skull to pieces, splattering brain matter everywhere and leaving his head hollowed out.

Now, not even a god could save him.

’That last shot was for Dalia.’

’And this one was for the common folk of the Ashton Territory you bullied.’

Fang Zhen said these two sentences silently to himself.

Henry’s sudden collapse and gruesome death stunned the retinue that had accompanied the Count.

The surrounding Knights forgot all about guarding the fleeing commoners and rushed toward Henry to see what had happened.

Fang Zhen surveyed the scene and saw that the fleeing commoners had put some distance between themselves and the Knights. They were about to enter the forest.

Once in the forest, they would be fine. Those commoners lived near Ashton and knew the terrain well enough to find an escape route.

The only problem was a single Knight who was still relatively close to the poor family. He looked conflicted, unsure whether to continue the pursuit or return to see what had happened to Henry.

Fang Zhen didn’t hesitate. He aimed his sniper rifle at the Knight.

Two skills activated at once: Weakness Perception and Critical Strike.

He followed his senses and pulled the trigger.

The muzzle spat fire. Fang Zhen felt the powerful recoil, but his thick, sturdy shoulders easily absorbed the impact.

Through the scope, he saw the Knight get hit as if by a meteor. The bullet pierced his chest, and its kinetic energy threw him from his horse. He slammed onto the ground and lay motionless.

The terrified horse whinnied, reared up on its hind legs, then bolted. The Knight’s foot was still caught in the stirrup, and his body was dragged across the ground, leaving a trail of blood.

Having sniped the Knight, Fang Zhen checked the area again.

The commoners had already reached the forest, where they would be much harder to find.

Henry’s men were still gathered around his corpse in a state of chaos. No one had the energy or presence of mind to pursue the commoners.

Fang Zhen had accomplished his goal.

Still wearing the Concealing Suit, he got up from the cliff. He removed the magazine from the AWP, quickly disassembled the rifle, and stored the parts in his King’s Belt.

Next, he stored the Concealing Suit and camouflage tarp in the Holy Garment box on his back.

Fang Zhen shouldered the Holy Garment box, calmly walked some distance away, then threw out a crystal bone, which transformed into the Red Hare Warhorse.

He vaulted onto the horse and galloped away, leaving a trail of dust in his wake.

His work was done. He vanished without a trace, his identity and deeds hidden from the world.

...

「Nearly two hours later」

Fang Zhen returned to Ashton Castle. Upon entering the Ancient Castle, he found Father Matthew, Agatha, and the female guards waiting for him.

Dalia, who was just recovering from her ordeal, had also changed into noble attire. Supported by her maids and guards, she was waiting for Fang Zhen to return.

Seeing Fang Zhen return, Dalia’s face lit up. Her gaze was filled with relief, like a wife waiting for her husband to return from the battlefield.

When Father Matthew saw Fang Zhen return unscathed, he let out a visible sigh of relief.

"You’re back," Dalia said, lifting the hem of her skirt. She ignored her own weakness and stepped forward to greet him with concern.

Fang Zhen smiled and nodded.

"Sir, the task you set out to do... is it finished?" Father Matthew asked.

With Agatha nearby, he couldn’t speak too plainly, so he phrased his question cryptically.

Fang Zhen looked at Father Matthew and nodded.

’In truth, I bet Agatha knows what’s going on,’ Fang Zhen thought. ’Anyone who isn’t a complete fool could figure it out.’

But Fang Zhen wasn’t afraid of the Church finding out.

In fact, he was more concerned that they *wouldn’t* find out.

’The Tade Church seems to operate with integrity. If they prove trustworthy, then displaying my strength and leaving a powerful impression could open up possibilities for future cooperation.’

’After all, while everyone envies the strong, they all want to work with them, too.’

"You... you actually did it?" Father Matthew asked, his face a mask of disbelief.

At that moment.

"My... my Lady!"

"Something terrible has happened!"

"Count Henry was on a hunt! He was... he was struck by a falling star! He died on the hunting grounds!"

An old retainer from the castle ran in, shouting in a panic.

The old retainer’s words instantly captured everyone’s attention.

The next moment, however, every gaze in the room—including Agatha’s—landed on Fang Zhen.