The Deadly Assassin Robin

Chapter 1181 Snowy Inn

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In the dead of the night, Robin reached the frost–covered town of Borealis, blanketed in a thick layer of

snow.

The town was situated more than 200 miles from the enigmatic and barren Snow Valley, a place shrouded in mystery. noveldrama

Robin had no plans to spend the night in Borcalis.

His destination was the Snowy Inn; a resting spot located 10 miles to the north of the town.

There, he intended to replenish his supplies of food and water and acquire a couple of snow vehicles–sleds and snowmobiles–essential for the journey ahead.

Snow Valley was still a great distance away, and traveling on foot would take far too much time.

He needed to move swiftly, confront Baird, and make it back to Harmonfield before the New Year to honor his wedding vow to Shirley.

Beyond the snowy town, the terrain stretched out in an endless expanse of icy wilderness, vast and unforgiving.

After trekking for roughly 30 minutes, Robin finally arrived at the renowned Snowy Inn.

In this isolated and brutal corner of the frozen plains, Snowy Inn stood as a rare sanctuary, offering warmth and provisions to weary travelers.

The inn was run by a middle–aged Italian man in his 40s named Doran Sameel.

Two decades earlier, he had established this inn on the outskirts of Borealis, catering primarily to travelers by providing food, shelter, and snow vehicles.

However, everything at the inn came at an exorbitant cost, with prices dozens of times higher than usual.

Despite the freezing temperatures, treacherous landscape, and the constant dangers of avalanches or wild animals, numerous warriors and merchant groups passed through this inn each year on their way to Snow Valley.

Yet, almost no one who ventured into Snow Valley ever came back.

The handful who did return were either driven to madness or had lost their sanity in some way.

Soon after, they disappeared without a trace.

Within the martial world, whispers circulated that these individuals vanished mysteriously, as if the land itself had consumed them.

As time went on, the stories about Snow Valley grew stranger and more distorted.

Some spoke of an ancient relic, mentioned in legends, that had appeared in Snow Valley.

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This essence stone was said to have accumulated the purest energy over a thousand years.

A warrior who possessed it would experience a dramatic surge in their abilities.

An ordinary person who obtained it could extend their lifespan by 50 years.

Several wealthy merchants had once offered fortunes in exchange for the stone and the relic.

Consequently, countless treasure hunters journeyed to Snow Valley,

But none returned successful. Many lost their lives in pursuit of what remained forever out of reach.

For those driven by greed, bravery and recklessness often went hand in hand.

Though no one had ever succeeded, the stream of dreamers heading toward Snow Valley never dried up,

Over time, Snowy Inn became an essential stop for those chasing these unattainable treasures.

Robin stood at the entrance of the inn.

Though it was late, the inn was bustling with activity, filled with light and noise.

Travelers packed the central dining area, drinking, laughing, and shouting over one another.

As Robin stepped inside, the lively inn suddenly fell silent.

Every pair of eyes in the inn locked onto Robin as he entered.

Shaking off the snow clinging to his clothes, Robin scanned the room, looking for an unoccupied table.

The innkeeper, Doran, quickly motioned for Robin to sit down and brought over two pitchers of heated wine, accompanied by a large platter of steaming beef weighing ten pounds.

This was the inn’s standard meal for two, priced at a steep 2,000 dollars.

The guard dressed in blue tossed 50,000 in cash onto the table–money he had exchanged earlier.

Doran picked up 2,000 from the stack and smiled politely. “Please, enjoy your meal.”

The blue–clad guard slid the remaining 48,000 toward Doran. “Keep the rest. We’ll take two snowmobiles.”

Doran accepted the money with a nod, his smile unwavering. “Of course, the snowmobiles are yours.”

“Wait, Doran,” Robin interrupted. “I’ll pay 60,000 for those snowmobiles.”

Before Doran could reply, two enormous men from Borealis rose from their seats and approached Robin’s table.

Both men stood well over six and a half feet tall, their bodies massive and imposing, resembling towering black bears.

Robin turned to Doran. “Did they reserve the snowmobiles before I got here?”

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Doran glanced at Robin. “Sir, there’s a rule here at the inn. If there’s a shortage of sleds or snowmobiles and multiple parties want them, it’s either resolved through a duel or negotiation.”

One of the Borcalis giants pointed at Robin. “Are you heading to Snow Valley to hunt for treasure too?”

Robin picked up a hefty piece of beef and took a bite. “No, I’m here to kill.”

The moment those words left his mouth, the entire inn went silent.

A flicker of something unreadable crossed Doran’s eyes.

The two Borealis men froze momentarily before bursting into laughter. “You? Kill? Hahaha…

“Doran, we’re taking those snowmobiles!”

Doran smiled and nodded. “Please wait here. I’ll just have a quick word with this gentleman.”

The other guests in the inn chuckled, shaking their heads in amusement.

The two Borealis men were colossal, their muscles bulging as if they could burst at any moment.

Robin, in contrast, stood at about 5’10“, with a lean and well–proportioned frame.

Next to the two towering figures, Robin appeared almost diminutive.

The Borealis men’s fists wer

like iron hammers–one punch from them could easily send Robin flying.

Everyone in the World of Darkness knew these two were no ordinary men.

One was named Will Labert, the other was Virgil Bates. Both had served as mercenaries for Borealis.

Their reputation for ruthless killing had earned them the nickname “Borealis Tigers” during their service.

Six or seven years ago, they had encountered a super martial arts master from the Dark List, Lucas, ranked 28th. Will had killed Lucas with a single punch.

“Kid,” Doran said with a smile, “are you going to give up the snowmobiles, or do you want to take your chances with them?

“What I’m saying is, behind the inn, I have sleds you can buy instead–they’re a bit cheaper.”

Robin grabbed Doran by the collar, his voice icy. “I’ve already bought the snowmobiles. How I deal with this is my business, not yours.”

Doran forced a smile. “Alright, sir. Just a friendly warning. They’re not exactly pushovers.”

Robin stared into Doran’s eyes for a long moment before giving a dismissive smile. “Have you been waiting for someone here all these years?”

Doran paused briefly, then chuckled. “I’m just here for survival. The business here is quite profitable.”

Robin released him. “Fill up the two snowmobiles with fuel, and bring me two extra cans.”

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advice. Show enough respect, or you might just be messing with a legendary killer you’re not ready for.”

“That guy? A killer?” Will and Virgil exchanged a laugh. “The only true killer in the world is Divine Drakebane!

“Look at him! He’s too small to be a killer–I’d only believe it if he were to slaughter some chickens!” they jeered.

The inn erupted with raucous laughter.

Virgil slammed his fist onto the beet on Robin’s plate with a loud thud. “Kid, either fight me for the snowmobiles or step aside. They’re ours!”