activa-t Chapter 71 Assassination of Lord Xinling
Chapter 71 Assassination of Lord Xinling
Chapter 71 Assassination of Lord Xinling
The courtyard fell silent for a moment.
The lean man's face darkened completely.
He thought his two men would be enough to take down the boy, so he personally stood guard to prevent any accidents. But he never expected that in just a few exchanges, one of them would be stabbed in the ribs and the other would have his throat slit and die on the spot.
The burly man clutched the wound under his ribs, breathing heavily, and his eyes were filled with fear as he looked at Zhao Heng.
The lean man no longer looked at the corpse on the ground. He began to move his feet, saying, "This boy will surely become a great threat in the future. He cannot be left to the Zhao state. Kill him."
The burly man paused for a moment, then turned his head to glance at the lean man. The lean man didn't look at him, his gaze fixed on Zhao Heng, and simply said, "I'll go explain to the young master."
The burly man said no more, gritted his teeth, and gripped the knife tightly again.
The two moved at the same time.
The lean man personally made his move, thrusting his long sword horizontally towards Zhao Heng's throat. This strike was devoid of any fancy moves, only speed. The blade whistled through the air. The burly man pounced from the side, his short sword slashing towards the back of Zhao Heng's neck, blocking his escape route.
Zhao Heng sidestepped the lean man's blade, then swung his short sword back, forcing the burly man back.
The burly man's short knife was knocked away, and he staggered to the side.
But the lean man's second slash had already arrived, the blade slicing horizontally, aimed straight for his neck.
Zhao Heng ducked, the blade grazing over the man's head. He swung his sword backhand, aiming for the lean man's abdomen, but the lean man deflected the short knife by pressing down on it, and then kicked Zhao Heng in the chest.
Zhao Heng was kicked backward, his feet leaving the ground before he crashed heavily to the ground and slid several feet away. A metallic taste rose in his throat, which he forced back down.
The burly man pounced. Zhao Heng rolled to his feet, his short sword deflecting three of the burly man's blows, his hand going numb. The lean man's sword came again; this man was skilled in martial arts, at least stronger than Meng Ben and the others. This strike was even faster than before, the tip of the blade almost turning into a streak of black light.
Zhao Heng dodged to the side with all his might, the blade slicing a long gash in his ribs. He gritted his teeth and thrust his short knife straight at the man, forcing the lean man to parry. But the burly man's knife had already come slashing down from behind.
Zhao Heng sensed the wind and dodged to the side. The blade grazed his shoulder, tearing his outer robe and slicing a gash in his flesh. He retaliated by stabbing the burly man's forearm with the blade, the tip piercing through the muscle and emerging from the other side.
The burly man screamed in pain as his dagger slipped from his hand and clattered to the ground. Zhao Heng immediately kicked him, sending him sprawling three or four steps before crashing into the wall, breaking out in a cold sweat from the pain.
But the lean man's knife had already arrived.
Zhao only had time to parry with his sword. The blades clashed, sparks flying. He felt a numbness in his wrist, and the short sword flew from his hand, embedding itself in the ground a few steps away. The lean man followed up with a palm strike.
Zhao Heng met the blow with his palm facing him, palm to palm, the two hands colliding with a muffled thud. He was sent staggering back several steps, his steps unsteady, his back slamming against the stone railing of the well in the courtyard. The cold stone railing hurt his back.
The burly man got up from the ground, picked up the short knife, and, together with the lean man, closed in from the left and right.
Zhao Heng's back was pressed against the stone railing, leaving him nowhere to retreat. His breathing became rapid, his gaze quickly swept between the two men, and he slowly shifted his feet, adjusting his position.
Enough time had been spent. The shouts of battle in the distance gradually moved towards the gate of the mansion, growing farther and farther away, and becoming increasingly sparse.
The burly man was clearly impatient; veins bulged on his forehead. Ignoring everything else, he lunged at Zhao Heng from the side, his short knife aimed straight at his ribs.
Zhao Heng sidestepped, the short knife grazing past the man's clothes. Instead of retreating, he took a half-step forward and elbowed the burly man in the chest. The burly man groaned and stumbled back two steps. Zhao Heng followed up with a kick to his knee, sending him crashing to his knees.
But the lean man's blade was already upon him. The long blade thrust horizontally, aiming straight for Zhao Heng's back. This strike was devoid of any fancy moves, only sheer speed.
Zhao Heng sensed the wind and struck the burly man's arm, which was holding a knife, with a heavy elbow. The burly man screamed and dropped the short knife.
Zhao Heng caught the knife and, taking advantage of the height difference, bent down and swung the blade backward. The blade struck the lean man's longsword from below. Sparks flew as the blades clashed. Using the force of the impact, he slid two steps to the side, barely dodging the blade.
My feet wobbled slightly upon landing, but I quickly regained my balance.
The burly man was utterly humiliated, yet he gritted his teeth and still tried to lunge forward. Zhao Heng slashed back with his sword, forcing him back and slashing a bloody gash in his chest. The burly man groaned, clutching his chest and staggering backward, his legs weak, clearly exhausted.
The lean man's face darkened completely.
He and two desperate outlaws, the three of them shamelessly ganged up on a boy, yet they couldn't defeat him for a long time. Who would believe that?
Moreover, this young prince was clearly injured, yet his knife became faster and more ruthless.
If this drags on any longer, it's not certain who will die.
Just then, Zhao Heng took a breath and suddenly shouted, "Jing Ni. I know you're here."
The lean man frowned, not understanding what he was saying, but a sudden panic gripped his heart. He kicked with his back foot and thrust the knife at Zhao Heng's heart again, the tip aimed straight for him with unstoppable force.
Zhao Heng parried with his sword, their blades clashing, and the two remained locked in a stalemate. Zhao Heng's arm was trembling, but his sword remained firmly against his opponent's, without yielding an inch.
"You really think you can rest easy and complete your mission by just watching them kill me?"
The lean man pressed his blade down harder. Zhao Heng's arm muscles tensed, veins bulging, as he held on tightly, his eyes glancing at the burly man as he backed away to retrieve the soft sword from the previous man, while he continued, "Lord Xinling isn't so easy to kill. If you want to stay by his side for ten or eight years—"
In that instant, the lean man suddenly felt a chill run down his spine, almost out of physiological instinct. He thrust his knife forward with force, the blade shoving Zhao Heng's knife aside. Then, he retreated recklessly, his boots clattering rapidly on the ground.
He retreated quickly enough. But someone else did it even faster.
A white figure suddenly darted out from outside the courtyard wall, like a gust of wind passing through the corridor, like a beam of light skimming across the water, so fast that its form was almost invisible. Only the sound of clothes rustling through the air was heard, extremely faint and brief, like a fallen leaf brushing against the roof tiles.
The lean man's retreating steps came to an abrupt halt.
He stared wide-eyed, letting out a very soft "clucking" sound, trying to turn his head to look, but his neck could only turn halfway before he could no longer turn it. The knife in his hand was also raised halfway before he could no longer lift it. His body swayed, the long knife fell to the ground, and then he fell forward and crashed heavily to the ground.
On the back of his neck, a copper hairpin was almost completely embedded, with only the tip, less than an inch long, sticking out.
The burly man had just picked up the soft sword when he turned around and saw this scene.
His pupils suddenly contracted. He didn't even see how the white shadow swept past the lean man's side; he only saw a blurry shadow flit from the other side of the courtyard wall, and then the lean man fell down without even a scream.
The burly man was stunned for almost a second before his soul seemed to leave his body, a chill running from his spine to the top of his head. Without hesitation, he turned and ran wildly towards the Moon Gate.
He ran extremely fast; his survival instinct gave him unprecedented speed, and he reached the moon gate in just a few steps.
But the chill clung to him like a shadow, biting tightly at the back of his neck.
The burly man's hair stood on end, and goosebumps rose on his skin. He gritted his teeth, turned abruptly, and swung his sword backward with all his might. This strike was the culmination of his life's learning; the wind howled as he swung the sword, hoping only to buy himself a little time to escape.
The sword missed its target.
There was no one behind him.
The burly man froze for a moment, looking around blankly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw only a pale white skirt fluttering down from the eaves, like a cloud falling from the sky. That was the last thing he ever saw in his life.
A white figure floated past him. A line of blood appeared on the burly man's neck. He swayed, his soft sword slipped from his hand and clattered to the ground. Then his knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the threshold of the moon gate, half his body hanging out of the gate and the other half remaining inside the courtyard.
The courtyard returned to silence. The shouts of battle in the distance had gradually faded, leaving only a few scattered clashes of weapons and occasional screams.
Zhao Heng tossed aside the knife in his hand, took two steps forward, and sat down on the stone railing of the well, supporting himself on his knees. He was slightly out of breath, his chest heaving, and blood was still seeping from the wounds on his shoulder and ribs, staining his robes a deep red. Then he looked up at the white-clad figure.
Jingni, wearing the same light white dance costume she wore at the banquet, landed in the courtyard. Her skirt gently settled, like a flower lingering in the wind.
She wasn't stained with blood; her clothes remained as white as snow, and her face was covered by a light veil, revealing only her eyes. Unfortunately, those beautiful eyes were almost devoid of emotion, coldly lowered as they looked at him.
A breeze blew from the direction of the moon gate, lifting a corner of her veil and revealing a sliver of her fair skin.
Zhao Heng squinted, and in a daze, he seemed to vaguely see the face under the veil.
Her eyebrows and eyes were like a painting, her skin as white as snow, and she was aloof and icy.
She didn't look at any of the corpses on the ground, but walked indifferently toward Zhao Heng. When she got a little closer, she looked him over, then raised her right hand and loosely clenched her fist.
The long sword that the lean man had dropped on the ground hummed and bounced up on its own, the hilt landing steadily in her hand.
He truly deserves to be called a top-tier assassin.
Zhao Heng sat on the edge of the well, watching this scene without any surprise, his breathing gradually calming down.
Without wasting words, Jing Ni raised her hand and placed the long sword against Zhao Heng's neck.
Zhao Heng could actually see a thirst for knowledge in her eyes, but he simply raised his neck, looked directly at her, and remained silent.
After a while, the noise outside seemed to fade into the distance, while shouts grew closer and closer.
Footsteps approached in a cacophony, like a surging tide. A flicker of anger seemed to rise in Jingni's beautiful eyes, like a small fire igniting beneath the ice, but she ultimately only coldly asked in her clear, melodious voice, "When did you find out?"
Zhao Heng shook his head, raised his hand to grasp the blade, pinched the spine with his fingers, and pushed the knife away from his neck by an inch, saying, "The Luo Net's mistake was that it shouldn't have cooperated with Guo Kai."
Throughout his speech, he kept his eyes on Jingni, noticing a slight furrow in her delicate brows. He continued, "Guo Kai is a man who forgets righteousness for profit. How could someone like him have only one master? Even if my father were in Xianyang, given his nature, how could he possibly be bound to Zhao Yan?"
As he spoke, he continued to move, effortlessly pushing the long knife away from his neck. He then casually examined his wounds, as if the knife against his neck were a tree branch rather than a knife.
Jing Ni frowned, watching the audacious young man casually examine his wound, remaining silent for a long time. Her gaze lingered on him for a long time, as if she were re-evaluating him, before finally asking, "What do you mean?"
Zhao Heng then breathed heavily, trying to move his injured shoulder. He winced slightly in pain, then paced back and forth with his hands on his hips, as if strolling in his own backyard. He said, "Although my father is a hostage in Xianyang, in terms of primogeniture and seniority, Zhao Yan, a son of a concubine, has no right to covet the throne. It's just that my father is far away in a foreign land, and no one in the Handan court speaks up for him, so I have no choice but to conceal my abilities. This concealment has allowed Zhao Yan to develop inappropriate thoughts, and those in the court who are watching are reluctantly allowing him to grow stronger."
He stopped and looked at Jing Ni. "Guo Kai is a man who always plays both sides. On one hand, he's a confidant to Zhao Yan, while on the other hand, he's tested me several times. After several tests, he knew I was hiding my abilities. Do you know how he figured that out?"
Jingni stared at him coldly, without saying a word.
Zhao then answered himself, "That time I fell into the water, it was his doing. I was unharmed that day, do you think it was luck? It was all a play staged for Zhao Yan. Guo Kai wanted to test whether I was worth his bet. I went along with it and let him see what he wanted to see. Since then, he has known that Zhao Yan has no hope of ascending the throne, and he has long since moved half of his bets to me."
As he spoke, he walked to the body of the gaunt man, knelt down, and pulled the bronze hairpin from the back of his neck. The hairpin, stained with blood, gleamed darkly in the sunlight. He examined the hairpin and said, "So, Guo Kai's collaboration with the Luo Wang organization to plot against Lord Xinling was actually part of his plan. After presenting you to Lord Xinling, it wouldn't be long before someone would report you. At that time, regardless of whether you succeeded in assassinating Lord Xinling or not, Zhao Yan, as the one who presented the beauty, would be the first to be implicated. With the charge of assassinating Lord Xinling attached to him, Zhao Yan would have no way to defend himself. This was also a plan to help me ascend the throne and remove obstacles."
The courtyard was quiet for a moment.
Jingni said coldly, "All that you've said is just your side of the story. I won't believe you."
Instead of answering, Zhao Heng asked her, "Do you think you can kill Lord Xinling?"
Jingni did not answer.
Zhao Heng continued, "As a top-ranking member of the Luo Wang (Net of Heaven), I certainly acknowledge your martial arts skills. However, Lord Xinling is renowned throughout the land. Not only is he rumored to be a master swordsman, but his disciples are also numerous and highly skilled. Zhu Hai alone is enough to defeat ten thousand men. If you wish to succeed by Lord Xinling's side and then escape unscathed, how confident are you?"
He paused, his tone softening. "Or perhaps, young lady, you originally intended to remain by his side as a concubine for the next ten years, waiting for an opportunity that might not come for who knows when."
Jingni's eyes turned cold. "So what? This is my mission. Besides, why shouldn't I take your head back to report? What does all that have to do with your life?"
Zhao shook his head. "I'm just a child, of little value to the Luo Wang. Killing me would just add another corpse to the list."
But if I am kept, the Net will have one more person to cooperate with.
4
Jingni stared at him coldly.
Zhao Heng stepped forward, handed over the bronze hairpin, and said, "If Luo Wang is willing to release my father from Xianyang, I can help you assassinate Lord Xinling."
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