Honkai Star Rail: I must live a peaceful life

In the abandoned urban district, a woman with dark red hair was curled up in the corner of a room. Her head hung low, concealing her expression, her breathing so slow she might have been dead.

The woman's clothes were in tatters, exposing large patches of fair skin that gleamed like fine jade in the moonlight. Beneath her, dried fluid traces spread in meandering patterns, black in color and crusted over.

Dust had accumulated on the windowless sill, occasionally scattered by passing winds. The interior was similarly covered, though partially obscured by bloodstains.

Though the woman's appearance suggested vulnerability and helplessness, she naturally exuded a soul-piercing aura of sharp bloodlust. An assassin accustomed to killing in places untouched by light had never learned—nor needed to learn—how to conceal this dangerous presence.

This was Fatima, codename Dandelion, Fifth Seat of the Arbiters' Sequence in the Court of Disorder. She was currently in a severely wounded state, hiding within the abandoned district of York City.

Fatima's consciousness was hazy. Though her body had recovered through modified regeneration, her extremely overtaxed spirit was slow to heal. While she appeared intact on the surface, she was actually incapable of sustained combat. Being in a recovery period meant she couldn't overdraw again—like a moneylender who couldn't issue new loans before collecting on existing debts.

For the Crimson Dandelion, who was accustomed to explosive overexertion in battle, this effectively halved her normal combat capability.

Thus, Fatima felt an unusual sense of vulnerability. Now she huddled in the corner with her presence completely masked, all her senses heightened to their most sensitive state as she fully processed external information.

The flow of air, ground vibrations, the dispersion and convergence of energy waves—everything registered in Fatima's consciousness, plucking at her taut nerves.

The small amount of recovered energy within her body remained in a state of readiness, able to instantly materialize into actual blades. Her seemingly defensive, curled posture could transform into an explosive assault stance in an instant.

Even if all these precautions proved to be needless worrying, as long as there was one time they might be correct, they were necessary.

After all, barring extreme circumstances, people only had one life. For assassins like her who walked along knife edges and cliff sides, a single failure at fate's gambling table could mean permanent removal from the game. No amount of caution was excessive.

For instance, these current precautions proved meaningful.

A cold smile played at Fatima's lips. Over a dozen unconcealed presences were closing in on her location, their footsteps deliberate. Who else could they be but pursuers from the Wingless?

"The mad dogs react quickly indeed—as expected of hounds trained from birth."

The three major assassination organizations in the Chaotic Zone each had their characteristics. The Wingless was the most traditional and classic assassin organization, with strict internal hierarchies. Their killers were selected from orphans and trained from childhood to ensure reliability while maintaining extreme exclusivity. Their foundation and tone were cold and lethal—deep black and pale white.

The Court of Disorder was the opposite, structured more like an intermediary, providing intelligence and information to numerous lurkers and wanderers. They accepted almost anyone for mission execution—many even had their public identities listed on bounties, though their subsequent survival was questionable.

Because of this, the Court of Disorder maintained the most diverse talent pool and massive scale, necessitating distinction between core and peripheral members. Thus was born the Arbiters' Sequence, comprising those who signed long-term contracts and retirement agreements.

The Arbiters' Sequence hunted malicious infiltrators and provocative contractors internally while externally dealing with killers from the other two organizations who overstepped their bounds. Their clashes with the Wingless were typically the most frequent and intense.

As it happened, Fatima's severe injuries came from single-handedly ambushing and dismantling two elite squads. In her view, this level of retaliation was entirely reasonable.

Fatima calmed her mind as energy gathered in her hand, sketching a dark red phantom image that deepened from light to dark but didn't solidify into physical form.

*Third-tier Ultimate Technique - Overload*

Energy stacking beyond stable limits, releasing for massive damage upon eruption. Superhumans with excellent control could even seamlessly transition into weapon materialization in the instant after the burst.

Drawbacks existed, naturally. The overload technique didn't add accuracy, and once energy weapon assembly exceeded stable limits, this process couldn't be reversed. Eruption was only a matter of sooner or later. If one failed to land a hit before losing control of the complete eruption, it basically meant surrendering the initiative.

But that was fine. Fatima sensed the movements of her pursuers, silently judging the weak points in their encirclement. She completed her pre-aim.

As the saying goes: when skill falls short, use positioning to compensate. When improvisation fails, rely on planning. If you can't control when the eruption begins, then pre-record your limit time and predict when to begin charging.

As long as they entered within thirty meters, she could erupt before the moment she felt control slipping. This was Fatima's most commonly used ambush opening move, and currently her best option.

Outside the building, the Wingless assassins had drawn extremely close, spread out to surround the area. They could sense the murderous aura their quarry carried after killing their companions. It was precisely because of this that the Wingless's revenge hunts had almost never failed.

Although this sensing wasn't precisely accurate, only able to lock onto a general area, methodically searching such a small zone wasn't much of an issue.

Regular footsteps approached from afar, crisp sounds like Death's knock at the door. The deliberately controlled intervals created immense psychological pressure, yet Fatima, long familiar with such tricks through countless life-or-death struggles, remained completely unaffected. The layered, dense dark red phantom had grown incandescent.

In an instant, Fatima's figure burst forward like lightning, a crimson afterimage penetrating through a knight's form. The resistance of flesh and blood revealed the massive crimson blade, suspended in the air behind him, flowing light rotating above, gleaming brilliantly in the night.

"Scatter quickly!" Someone with experience cried out, their voice urgent with trembling fear. "It's the Crimson Dandelion's Invasion!"

It was too late. The fragments from the collapsed weapon dispersed along with the sound, dissolving into the surrounding people's bodies like salt in water.

The foreign energy stubbornly took root within their bodies, like dandelion seeds taking hold wherever they landed—growing, infecting, assimilating, wreaking havoc on original energy pathways.

Not far away, Milo and Eureka, hidden within a small barrier, exchanged glances. After their mutual bewilderment, they began charging their burst skills with perfect synchronization.

End of Chapter