Chapter Fifty-Two: The Premier Sniper, a Legend!

Water Yao Immortal gazed calmly at the man sitting across from her, her expression as serene as ever, but her heart sank deeper with each passing moment.

They were at the southeastern corner of the island, beneath the enormous statue, inside a hollow space that had likely once served as the entrance to a lighthouse. Here, an uneven, battered table still stood, listing to one side.

It was in this very spot that Water Yao Immortal had witnessed and endured her first hurricane.

Now, nearly thirty hours had passed since the aircraft’s hijacking, and almost twenty hours since she sent out that faint, ambiguous signal. Yet the rescue she had hoped for had never arrived.

When she first accepted this mission, Water Yao Immortal knew it was fraught with danger. Headquarters, unlike before, had not yielded to her objections; instead, after issuing a top-priority order, she understood that this task was more important than any she had undertaken before.

For this, she had even resorted to the “Netherworld Divination,” a secret art she had never dared use due to her insufficient cultivation, risking her life and essence. The price was severe—damage to her true energy and three drops of vital blood—but the result was unexpected.

Though her cultivation was lacking and the vision shrouded in thick fog, the fragmented clues she gleaned were enough to fill her with joy.

Amidst the mist, Water Yao Immortal saw a pair of eyes—dark and bright, deep as the night sky, dazzling as gemstones, burning like flames yet somehow soothing to the soul. She did not know what these eyes meant, but the revelation promised that after enduring countless perils, she would not only survive but also gain a sliver of hope to revive her ancestral sect.

Thinking of her gentle mother’s persistent exhortation before passing, Water Yao Immortal felt her heart ignite—this was the true reason she had finally accepted the mission.

But so much time had passed—would things ever change?

Looking back, when she sent the signal, the man opposite had clearly seen it, yet did not stop her. Perhaps he, too, hoped to use it to send his own organization a location marker?

If that were so, backed by powerful naval and air forces and global military bases, would the Minia army arrive first? If so, what fate awaited her?

And then, there was the terrifying man before her...

As soon as the plane took off, when that man approached her with a hypocritical, courteous smile, Water Yao Immortal immediately recognized him: an elite of the Minia Federation’s intelligence service, recipient of four Silver Star medals, three Navy Distinguished Crosses, a Purple Heart, and Minia’s highest military honor. Officially acknowledged as Minia’s top sniper, a special operations ace who had taken at least three hundred lives across global battlefields—James Sam, known throughout the Minia army by a single title: Legend.

Water Yao Immortal knew her own childhood training in witchcraft had been incomplete, focusing mainly on divination and healing, not combat. Still, even rudimentary arts ensured she seldom lost in battle; during training, she had faced elite special forces and never suffered defeat, and though she had encountered danger in the intelligence bureau, she had never failed.

After all, a late-stage Qi cultivator, only a step from foundation establishment, was already a master in the secular world.

She had assumed that even if the “Netherworld Divination” drained her energy and halved her abilities, she would still fare well against most opponents. Yet she never imagined James Sam would be so overwhelmingly powerful—one brief encounter left her gravely injured, powerless even now.

The memory of that dreadful strength, that almost palpable aura, filled Water Yao Immortal with a profound sense of helplessness.

Faced with such a formidable presence, even if headquarters received her signal and dispatched troops, could they hope to defeat him?

Those deep, bright eyes—so unforgettable at first sight—what manner of person did they represent? Would he come? Was he truly the one who could not only save her but also restore her sect? Water Yao Immortal sighed inwardly, forbidding herself from further speculation.

As if guided by animal instinct, James Sam, whose eyes had been half-shut, suddenly opened them, once again wearing that insincere, courteous smile which Water Yao Immortal instinctively abhorred. “My dear ‘Witch,’ you seem anxious. Are you worried?”

Water Yao Immortal closed her eyes, silent.

“Hehehe,” James Sam laughed softly. “Don’t fret, my ‘Witch.’ The storm has only passed three hours ago. Neither your rescue nor my reinforcements will arrive so soon—why don’t we guess who will get here first?”

She kept her eyes tightly shut, ignoring him.

James Sam was not offended, continuing, “I guess my people will arrive first… Well, well, such a beautiful lady ignoring me is truly heartbreaking—but of course, that is a lady’s prerogative. Shall we play another game? Perhaps truth or dare? Ladies first—ah, but, it’s quite rude to treat a gentleman so. Or perhaps you’re not curious why, knowing you left that cosmetic case with the locator chip for the old man, I neither stopped you nor alerted anyone else?”

Water Yao Immortal finally opened her exquisite phoenix eyes, glared at James Sam, then slowly closed them again.

“Wow, beautiful ‘Witch,’ your enchanting gaze could slay most men in this world! But why is your look so strange? Are you asking why, as a sniper, I am so talkative—in your ancient, wicked country’s terms, why I am a ‘chatterbox’?”

James Sam’s words carried a rare hint of nostalgia. “You see, as a sniper, I spend most of my time alone, hidden, lonely and isolated. I must constantly talk to myself to maintain my mental balance. By the Emperor, those were truly memorable days… Want to know who my first target was?”

Clearly, James Sam was somewhat schizophrenic; at such a tense moment, after a few sentences, he quickly slipped into reminiscence.

“It was on the battlefield of Badamia. The assault on the dictator’s forces had been underway for two weeks. Our Charlie platoon landed at the Ophir Peninsula and pushed north. In the town of Gabayev, we were ordered to cover the passing Marine Corps—you see, their mission was to attack Badamia’s capital, Bagta, capture the tyrant and dictator Samler alive. Our task was to protect them from enemy ambush as they passed through the town.”

James Sam’s recollection was devoid of emotion, as if he were not even human.

“The mission did not seem difficult. Minia’s federated forces were well-equipped, the Marine Corps’ weapons were formidable, and the Badamia government troops’ arms posed no threat. Besides, they had long lost control over the region. Still, we remained cautious, for under that evil regime, the civilians had grown ignorant. They resisted change, opposed the democracy and freedom we brought. They were a band of heretical unbelievers, deserving to be tied to the stake and burned until their souls were purified by the Emperor’s light!”

James Sam’s voice suddenly soared, brimming with a sick fervor. Water Yao Immortal opened her eyes, glanced at him curiously, then quickly closed them, expressionless but inwardly bemused: “‘Heretics’? The stake? Does he imagine himself in the Middle Ages?”

“Forgive me, forgive me, I lost composure,” James Sam instantly reverted to his polished demeanor, looking nothing like a ruthless sniper. “We were positioned on the rooftop of a crumbling building at the town’s edge. Through the scope, I could see the town, battered and broken, its residents terrorized by endless war—perhaps a few bold ones peered from behind heavy curtains.”

“It was a moonless night, the wind fierce. The streets and houses trembled, heavy tank engines roared, and the Marine Corps entered the town. I saw their vehicles stop three hundred meters ahead. Ten young Marines disembarked, proud and confident, an excellent group of lads—most importantly, all devout believers of the Emperor. Through my scope, I could even see the crucifix they wore. Yet,” James Sam’s voice grew agitated again, “I could not understand why they chose to disembark here. The town was so dilapidated, filthy, the street stank of sewage and rotten eggs, just like the stench clinging to those Badamia heretics—utterly repulsive!”