The torrential rain slammed against the ground, splashing mud and illuminating the forest in sudden, flickering flashes of light.
“Whoa!”
Ting Yuan yanked hard on the reins and reached out to stroke the horse’s back, attempting to soothe it. This was a prized horse bestowed by the Emperor, and it had remained calm even when facing numerous assassins along the way, carrying itself with a regal air; yet, at this moment, it was becoming agitated.
Ting Yuan looked ahead. Two figures emerged from the shadows a man and a woman. Both were clad in gray robes and black veils, swords at their waists, with circular coins embroidered with tiny cicadas dangling from their belts.
The man’s eyes were sharp as a hawk’s. “To dare to travel outside the city on a rainy night while knowing the road is not peaceful Your Highness, you have great courage.”
Inside the carriage, Zhu Hexing leaned against a soft pillow, halfway through an exciting passage in a storybook. Hearing this, he remarked nonchalantly, “Against mere ghosts and monsters, even three parts of courage is more than enough of a reward.”
The man gripped the hilt of his sword, his breathing growing heavy. Beside him, the woman walked forward with a graceful, lotus-like gait, purring, “I have heard that Your Highness is the greatest beauty in Xuandu. I did not expect your voice to be so pleasant as well; it truly makes my bones melt. Why not let me spend a night with you, Your Highness? I shall grant you a peaceful death in return.”
“Impudent!”
Ting Yuan lightly tapped the carriage body. The soft sword at his waist pierced through the rain, striking forward and instantly snapping the hairpin from the woman’s temple. The woman retreated hastily. The man drew his sword to deflect the attack, but then the hilt slipped from his hand, and the blade spun in a fierce arc, narrowly grazing Ting Yuan’s throat.
Ting Yuan stepped back, his fingertips brushing the blade. “Art of Killing,” he noted aloud. He raised his voice, “Master, these are not mere assassins they are professional killers!”
Zhu Hexing tucked a black peony-patterned bookmark into the page and closed the book. The cover read: The Legend of the Eaves of Emptiness.
“The Eaves of Emptiness—the most mysterious, lethal, and exorbitantly expensive assassin organization in the underworld?” On the edge of a nearby cliff, Hua Wu held an umbrella over herself and Shen Quebai. She clicked her tongue. “They are truly determined to put Zhu Hexing to death.”
Shen Quebai wore a hooded cloak—jet black on the outside, deep red within, embroidered with a golden vine leaf on the side that swayed in the wind, obscuring his right eye. He gripped his blade and said, “When all manner of monsters emerge, how can you win without playing dirty? After all, if they fail today, they must be prepared to have their necks snapped by Zhu Hexing tomorrow.”
Hua Wu sensed the underlying malice. “But doesn’t the Eaves of Emptiness refuse jobs related to the Imperial family? Zhu Hexing is royalty, after all.”
Shen Quebai shared the rumors he had gathered. “The ancestor of the Eaves of Emptiness just passed away. With things in chaos, how can they still worry about old-fashioned rules?”
“I see,” Hua Wu said. The organization was too mysterious, and she knew little of it. She asked curiously, “I hear there are four great clans in the Eaves of Emptiness. I wonder which one these two belong to.”
Shen Quebai’s gaze swept over the tiny cicada coins at the killers’ waists. “Third-tier killers from the Shang clan.” He curled his lip. “This money is wasted.”
Shang clan killers specialized in short swords and were divided into three ranks based on the number of cicada coins they wore. Top-tier killers had three coins and were rarely seen; third-tier killers had only one coin and were the backbone of the organization’s labor.
Shen Quebai said, “Uncle Xuan was right. It wasn’t just me who made the mistake of underestimating Zhu Hexing.”
By then, Ting Yuan was already locked in an inseparable struggle with the two killers. His soft sword was wielded with seasoned, ethereal grace; while his blade was concealed, he left no opening for the two short swords, effectively turning a defensive stance into an offensive one.
“That is not court swordsmanship; the Prince of Mingxuan’s estate hides experts,” Shen Quebai observed. “That soft sword is also a top-tier weapon. The ‘coachman’ is no low-ranking servant in that estate.”
The carriage sat in the curtain of rain like a slumbering beast, disdaining to open its eyes even amidst the lethal glare of the conflict. Shen Quebai gazed through the rain, his eyes seemingly piercing the carriage wall to see the “demonically beautiful” skin of Zhu Hexing. A high-handed, mocking smile tugged at his lips.
He pulled at his hood, frowned, and clicked his tongue.
Just then, Ting Yuan deflected a short sword. The blade grazed the man’s neck, plunged into a bamboo stalk, and splashed with the drizzling rain. The tall man collapsed like a small mountain, blood gushing from his neck.
Seeing this, the woman stepped back, startled. In that instant, Ting Yuan hooked her ankle, and she fell to the ground with a scream.
Ting Yuan was about to strike the final blow when he heard Zhu Hexing’s soft voice from the carriage behind him: “Break every bone in her body. I want to hear how ‘pleasant’ that sounds.”
The rolling thunder could not mask the successive screams. Hua Wu tightened her brow, a chill creeping into her heart.
“What a venomous beauty,” she remarked. “If he survives and returns, your eventual return to Xuandu will be far too dangerous.”
Shen Quebai asked, “Was the letter sent?”
“The black hawk has flown, but whether the jade pendant was inside, I cannot be certain,” Hua Wu replied.
“If Zhu Hexing saw the pendant, he should be able to guess the mastermind’s intentions—assuming his brain didn’t get waterlogged in the lake tonight,” Shen Quebai said. “He will surely deliver the pendant to Emperor Jing’an the moment he can.”
The wind and rain flicked at the brim of his hood. Shen Quebai’s ears twitched; he suddenly lifted his eyes, scanning the dense forest beneath the cliff. The storm and the night provided excellent cover. He twisted his neck and sighed, “It’s quite lively tonight.”
Ting Yuan took out a handkerchief to wipe his soft sword. He took two steps toward the carriage, then suddenly stopped, turning back to gaze into the rain.
“What a majestic young man,” a seductive male voice drifted through the rain. “I’m quite smitten!”
Ting Yuan shivered, feeling as if he had gone deaf.
Four young women in white veils approached, bearing a large red sedan chair. The man seated inside wore his long hair loose, his face painted with delicate, intricate makeup.
Shen Quebai hissed, “That flamboyant thing has arrived, too.”
“An old acquaintance?” Hua Wu asked.
“Xie Suiliu, top three on the expert list of the Eaves of Emptiness’s Xie clan. Three years ago, he took money to kill ‘Old Nine.’ I slapped him across the face, bruised his pretty cheek, and he swore to kill me when he left,” Shen Quebai said.
Xie Suiliu leaned languidly against the armrest, staring at Ting Yuan. His bright red lips curled. “Look at that. Even the guard beside the Prince is so handsome and charming. I love beautiful people. Why don’t we be friends, little brother? I won’t kill you tonight.”
“What a pity,” Ting Yuan dropped his cloth and smiled slightly. “I don’t like being friends with ugly people.”
The smile on Xie Suiliu’s face vanished instantly.
“Everyone who has called me ugly is dead!” Xie Suiliu shrieked, whipping his vermilion sleeve forward. A short spear flew from his side. He stepped lightly, grasped the spear, and launched himself forward like a dragon, thrusting toward Ting Yuan!
Ting Yuan parried with his sword, the tip meeting the spearhead. The sword bent into a half-arc, and the spearhead, along with the sword tip, lunged back toward his brow. He arched his back to dodge, simultaneously kicking Xie Suiliu in the waist, forcing him to retreat several paces.
“Yo!” Xie Suiliu glanced at the footprint on his waist, smoothed his hair, and raised his voice, “Master Yan, how long do you intend to watch the show? Why not come out and help me!”
As the words fell, a burly man carrying a gourd at his waist burst from the dense forest. His fist struck out like a wild beast emerging from the mountains, slamming toward the carriage with a ferocious roar!
Ting Yuan, momentarily distracted, was kicked away by Xie Suiliu. He scrambled back, landed, and immediately launched another strike, entangling himself with Xie Suiliu once more.
Bang! The carriage door shattered, and the horses neighed, rearing their hooves.
Yan Wu stood like a heavy bell, pressing down upon the carriage, crashing into the cabin, and launching another punch at Zhu Hexing’s face. In his eyes, Zhu Hexing was nothing more than a caged canary, destined to be crushed. Unexpectedly, the moment he struck, the other party steadied his fist, using a light, flowing palm technique to dissipate the force, countering by seizing his wrist.
The palm technique was as light as a feather yet possessed the weight of a mountain! For someone so young, it was truly formidable.
Yan Wu looked up, revealing a pair of lifeless eyes.
Zhu Hexing looked at him and asked, “Do you recognize a woman with a red scar on her face, a gourd at her waist, and a penchant for fist-fighting?”
Yan Wu said, “That is my wife.”
“Three years ago, she attempted to assassinate the Empress who was traveling incognito from the palace in Xuandu. It failed.” Zhu Hexing applied pressure, and Yan Wu’s wrist gave a dull crunch. He said with pity, “I killed her.”
Back then, the ancestor of the Eaves of Emptiness was still alive, and the rule against “not accepting Imperial jobs” was still in effect. Yan Wu’s wife had violated the rules by taking that job; even if she had succeeded, she would have faced death upon returning. Because she failed and died in Xuandu, Yan Wu had endured the hundred lashes of the organization’s family law in the Hall of Penalty.
He had not died, but his heart had withered. Yet, he held onto his last breath, wishing only to avenge his wife.
Yan Wu’s face darkened, and he launched a violent left hook. As the punch wind hit his face, Zhu Hexing quickly released his grip, pushed the rear window of the carriage open with his back, and grabbed the edge of the frame, using the momentum to flip onto the roof. Yan Wu shattered the roof, but when he looked up, Zhu Hexing had already vaulted to a nearby bamboo branch.
Rain lashed against his face, but Zhu Hexing looked toward the small cliff nearby and said leisurely, “Are you not coming out? Someone is beating up your ‘Big Brother Zhu’.”
Yan Wu turned slightly to look behind him.
At the edge of the cliff, Hua Wu’s expression hardened. She stroked the silk ribbon at her waist and said in a low voice, “Tonight is the perfect opportunity to kill him. Since there are still ‘friends’ here, why not try?”
The heavy rain could not dampen Zhu Hexing’s gaze. Shen Quebai felt a sharp pain in his throat, and the sensation of suffocation crept up again. He reached out to pull at his collar, hiding the red fingerprint mark, and tightened his grip on his blade.
Immediately, he flicked the scabbard open with his thumb, a cold light carving a sliver of darkness away from the night.