A MAN IN BLACK GAZED DOWN from the southern slope to the fighting below. The black-clad assassins surged like a tidal wave, swiftly engulfing the battlefield. They mercilessly crushed the righteous disciples, who fell like rows of razed wheat. With a high yell, the man signaled the snipers behind him to lower their crossbows, which had been aimed at Liu Guicang on his high platform.
"To think that Xiao-Lian kid actually got reinforcements," the man chuckled softly. His hood obscured his face, revealing only a faint moustache that quivered with his smile. "It seems like us old relics should just retire—this battlefield belongs to the young now."
Tang Shiqi stared in shock at the Garden assassins descending from the heavens. "Damn—having a father really pays off!" he muttered to Shu Qing. "Looks like Qiye Garden called every undercover agent from the entire southwest region to Liuzhou!"
"No…! No, they're not…" Shu Qing stared as one of the assassins bent, raised his blade, and cut down two righteous disciples in a swift motion. "They're not from the Garden! They're not using Garden saber arts!"
Tang Shiqi was stunned. "If they're not from the Garden, then…who are they?"
The black tide surged forward, overwhelming the righteous disciples like the flood from a collapsed dam. The assassin carrying Xiahou Lian galloped straight toward the high platform.
The sect leaders exchanged frightened glances as a chill ran through their hearts. They were trapped on the high platform with a bloody battlefield before them and a steep mountain behind. There was no retreat—they could only fight!
When Xiahou Lian and the unknown assassin neared the high platform, the assassin reined in his horse and ordered, "Go!"
Dismounting, he drew a slender saber from the horse's side, its silver blade gleaming like liquid mercury under the sunlight. The saber was exquisitely crafted, but its hilt and scabbard had been deliberately sanded smooth, making its origins impossible to know. Xiahou Lian immediately understood that this man was hiding his identity.
There was no time to think. Xiahou Lian likewise dismounted, holding Hengbo horizontally at his elbow and then yanking it out in a fierce motion. The bloodstains were wiped clean, revealing Hengbo's gleaming blade. Swords raised, the two men stood side by side and strode forward. They were like demons crawling from the depths of hell; their bloodthirstiness was palpable.
Two assassins dismounted and knelt before the high platform to serve as stepping stones. Xiahou Lian and the assassin broke into a run, synchronizing their breathing perfectly. With a powerful leap, they vaulted together onto the high platform!
"Liu Guicang is mine!" Xiahou Lian shouted. "Don't interfere!"
"Understood!" The assassin blocked the Tianyi Blade Sect leader, then kicked him away fiercely.
Xiahou Lian swung Hengbo, the blade hissing through the air like a serpent's bared fangs to strike Liu Guicang's sword. Xiahou Lian and Liu Guicang faced one another, blade to blade, breath mingling.
"Today you die, Liu Guicang!"
"Xiahou Lian, you useless trash, you can't kill me!" Liu Guicang roared like an enraged lion, his graying beard wild and disheveled. Their blades clashed repeatedly, sparks flying, until their force bloodied both their hands.
As Xiahou Lian and Liu Guicang fought fiercely, the rest of the sect leaders joined forces to attack the other assassin simultaneously, almost as if telepathically linked. They quickly realized that the unknown assassin's blade techniques were uncanny, more formidable than even Xiahou Lian's; the strikes were unpredictable, impossible to follow or anticipate. When the Junzi Blade Sect leader raised his sword to deflect his blow, the assassin's blade snaked around his guard like a venomous serpent and bit into his arm.
It was terrifying—absolutely terrifying—and the sect leaders felt a chill in their hearts. One accidentally met the assassin's gaze as their blades clashed, and he instantly felt as if a chunk of ice were lodged in his chest. The assassin's eyes were like a mountain wraith's, frigid with ancient sorrow. If Xiahou Lian was a blazing flame, this man was a cold, solitary block of ice.
But there were five sect leaders. They exchanged glances and quickly shifted positions, assuming a blade formation to launch a relentless barrage of attacks. Each direction was covered, and even if he'd had three heads and six arms, the assassin couldn't possibly defend every potentially fatal vulnerability! The assassin's movements quickly slowed. He staggered as searing pain shot through his back, barely dodging a deadly vertical slash.
Seeing this, Xiahou Lian immediately broke off his fight with Liu Guicang and rushed to the assassin's aid. The two stood back-to-back.
"Are you all right?!" asked Xiahou Lian.
"It's just a scratch," the assassin replied through gritted teeth.
"Hey—you still haven't told me who you are."
"Me?" The assassin looked deeply into Xiahou Lian's eyes, then chuckled softly, severing another sect leader's arm. "Xiahou Lian, I am your savior!"
Xiahou Lian was stunned. A name danced on the tip of his tongue. But how could it be him? They'd been apart for seven years, and seven years was enough time to change everything. Plus, even if he'd wanted to save Xiahou Lian, how could he have traveled thousands of miles from the capital to Liuzhou in just a few days?
Swinging his blade, Xiahou Lian recalled that sorrowful, solitary youth—and somehow, the assassin's tall figure began to overlap with that youth's silhouette. Both were solitary, resilient; both charged forward without hesitation. Though Xiahou Lian and the assassin had never before fought side by side, they coordinated as seamlessly as if they'd known each other for years.
When Xiahou Lian blocked a thunderous strike from the Nuchao Sect leader, the assassin's blade immediately pierced the leader's abdomen from behind. When the assassin warded off the Junzi Blade Sect leader's swirling slash, Xiahou Lian stepped forward and decapitated his attacker. Xiahou Lian pursed his lips as that strange feeling once more flowed quietly through his heart.
But how could it be him? There was no way Shen Jue could've traveled there in just a few days. Xiahou Lian shook his head vigorously to push the thought aside and threw himself back into the fight.
Before long, the sect leaders fell one by one, leaving only Liu Guicang. He leaned on his sword. His expression was grave, his disbelief evident as he stared at the sea of blood around him. With the other sect leaders dead, Liu Guicang's righteous path was all but finished.
The assassin sheathed his sword and stood quietly to one side. Xiahou Lian nodded to him, then strode toward Liu Guicang, blade out. Xiahou Lian didn't notice the assassin's trembling hand—his ally was at his limit, body racked with exhaustion. He no longer had the strength to help Xiahou Lian kill Liu Guicang, even if he wanted to.
Xiahou Lian wiped Hengbo with his sleeve, the blade refracting sunlight in an unsteady flicker on the ground. "Hey, Liu Guicang—any last words before you die?"
"Do you want to hear me beg for mercy, Xiahou Lian?" Liu Guicang sneered, eyes glinting with a tiger's ferocity. "Dream on. I am the heir to the art of the katana saber! I'll never grovel to scum like you!"
Liu Guicang turned to survey the killing field below the platform. Most of the righteous sect disciples lay dead or wounded as black-clad assassins rode their horses through the carnage. Bleak sorrow welled up in his eyes.
"You keep talking about taking your revenge on me, Xiahou Lian. But did you know your mother killed my shifu, the third-generation successor to the katana saber? I killed her to avenge my shifu's death! The day she killed him, the sun was just as bright as it is today. My shifu was in his twilight years, and my shiniang knelt on the ground and begged the Garuda to spare him. But your mother showed no mercy. She took my shifu's head with a single stroke. You assassins are drowning in blood debts—you deserve to be torn limb from limb and left to rot without proper burial!"
Xiahou Lian was silent for a moment then suddenly laughed. "So I'm drowning in blood debts? What about you? Do you think you're clean? How much blood have you spilled, you bastard? Don't pretend you don't know. Those who kill shall be killed in return—that's just how karma works. Your shifu got what was coming to him, and so did my mother. Now, it's your turn, and someday, it'll be mine. The world never gave us a choice; the moment your shifu first bloodied his saber, you were doomed to end like this."
Liu Guicang was briefly stunned; then he laughed as well. "All I ever wanted was for our katana saber arts to become eternal in the jianghu, a legacy passed down through countless generations. I see now that such a dream is impossible. So be it—perhaps a cursed art is better left unshared. Come, Xiahou Lian. This battle is ours alone!"
Hengbo flashed violently in Xiahou Lian's grip, its blade catching the sunlight and emitting a blinding glare. The wind howled, surging with killing intent as Xiahou Lian charged. The platform's wooden planks shuddered beneath his pounding steps, the sleeves of his white prisoner's robes flapping like moth wings. Ahead of him, Hengbo struck toward the enemy.
Liu Guicang stood firm, his blade raised to meet the shimmering, moon-in-water glow of Hengbo's edge. His face had gone as still as carved ice, but the thunder of his breath raged in his chest. Then, suddenly, he let go of his saber. It clattered to the ground, and he closed his eyes, welcoming Hengbo's razor-sharp blade. The point pierced his chest, and hot, bright blood surged from the wound. Liu Guicang's body crumpled to the ground like a collapsing mountain.
Xiahou Lian was stunned. He kept his grip on Hengbo as Liu Guicang's chest heaved violently. The man reached up and grabbed Xiahou Lian's shoulder in a death grip.
"Xiahou Lian, do you think killing me means you've avenged your mother?" Liu Guicang asked, chuckling weakly. "You're wrong…you're wrong! Your enemy is in the Garden!"
His words hit Xiahou Lian like lightning, making him freeze. "What do you mean?"
"Retribution upon you…is coming!" With that, Liu Guicang tilted back his head, spat out one last mouthful of blood, and fell silent, lifeless. His hand slipped from Xiahou Lian's shoulder.
"What do you mean?" Xiahou Lian demanded. He shook Liu Guicang's rapidly cooling corpse, but the man's lifeless eyes seemed to mock his ignorance. "Explain! Tell me!"
His enemy was in the Garden? What did Liu Guicang mean? Xiahou Lian's head throbbed.
The assassin spoke up from behind him. "Are you a fool? There's a mole in the Garden, and it's probably no small fry."
Xiahou Lian turned. The assassin sat on a chair resting, saber across his knees. "I know! I just—"
"Can't believe it?" The assassin chuckled. "Why not? The world runs on personal gain. Everyone's chasing a profit. For the right price, people will betray their own friends or family, to say nothing of their colleagues."
Xiahou Lian eyed him suspiciously. "Then what do you gain by saving me? Who exactly are you?"
The assassin fell silent. Below the platform, another assassin shouted toward them, "Sir! The soldiers have arrived!"
"Boss! There're soldiers here!" Tang Shiqi shouted as well. "Are you done? We need to get out of here!"
The assassin jumped down from the platform, mounted his horse, and gestured. Several assassins dismounted their own horses and climbed onto their comrades' mounts.
"Those horses are for you," the assassin said, gripping his reins to ride away. "Cherish your life, Xiahou Lian."
"Hey! You still haven't told me who you are!" Xiahou Lian shouted at him.
The assassin didn't respond. He led his men away, leaving nothing in eyeshot but his retreating back.
"Shaoye!" Xiahou Lian shouted. "Damn it all, Shaoye, is it really you?!"
The assassin still didn't look back, and his group disappeared into the dense forest. In an instant, only corpses were left on the battlefield, still and silent beneath the whistling wind.
Xiahou Lian jumped down from the high platform and grabbed Shu Qing by the collar. "How long was I locked up for?"
"Seventeen days." Shu Qing struggled free. "Shige, who were those people? Your friends? Why were they disguised as Garden assassins?"
"Didn't you hear?" Tang Shiqi asked with a sly grin. "Boss just called that man 'Shaoye.' Be honest with us, Boss—did you cozy up to some influential young master? Not bad, not bad! You're even better at this than I am!"
Xiahou Lian felt driven to distraction. He'd been locked up for seventeen days, and it was over two thousand miles—including two mountain crossings—from the capital to Liuzhou. Seventeen days wasn't enough. Moreover, Xiahou Lian had never before seen or even heard of the man's ghostly blade techniques. If that man had really been the young master, he would've been using the Garden saber arts that Xiahou Lian had taught him. So who the hell was he?! Damn that bastard Liu Guicang, speaking in riddles without explaining anything! Damn him! Ignoring Tang Shiqi and Shu Qing's chatter, Xiahou Lian mounted his horse and galloped off down a random path.
Behind him, in the distant forest, the mysterious assassin sat on his horse and watched Xiahou Lian retreat. At last, he removed his plain porcelain mask, revealing Shen Jue's own pale face, the dark circles under his eyes betraying his exhaustion. He coughed softly.
The Eastern Depot riders shed their black robes, revealing gold-embroidered garments beneath.
"Depot Chief, you're injured," one of the riders reminded him.
As soon as he spoke, Shen Jue swayed, then suddenly fell from his horse. The riders panicked, shouting "Depot Chief!" and hurriedly dismounting to help the unconscious Shen Jue.
***
SITU JIN HURRIED to the courtyard of the Eastern Depot's Liuzhou branch. Yu Xianru, the local supervisor, had been waiting anxiously in the walkway, pacing back and forth. When he saw Situ Jin, his face lit up as if he'd spotted his own mother.
"Ah, Commander Situ—you've finally arrived!" said Yu Xianru, following closely behind Situ Jin. "Erm, really, about our depot chief. He didn't even say hello, just appeared in a blink! Didn't even have time for a sip of tea—he just summoned five hundred of his agents and rushed to the outskirts to finish off Liu Guicang. Most frightening! Tell me—what was that all about?!"
Situ Jin gave him a frosty look.
Seeing his expression, Yu Xianru's heart somersaulted, and he stammered, "Commander Situ…the depot chief traveled day and night without rest to reach Liuzhou. They say he barely slept two hours each day on the road. Could…could he have been following orders from…our lord?"
Situ Jin stopped walking. Instead of answering, he posed his own question. "If he weren't, Sir Yu, what other explanation could there be?"
Yu Xianru had been with the Eastern Depot for many years and understood Situ Jin's implication right away. Terrified, he quickly replied, "This servant was only speaking nonsense—absolute nonsense!"
Suddenly, there was a commotion at the gate. A group of men carried in a series of crates and placed them in the Eastern Depot's courtyard. Yu Xianru's mind went blank. Pointing at the crates, he asked Situ Jin, "What…what are these?"
"They were confiscated from Liu Guicang's home," replied Situ Jin. He walked into the courtyard and opened one of the crates. It was crammed with neatly stacked katana sabers. "Two weeks ago, the authorities in the capital received reports that Liu Guicang was plotting a rebellion. His so-called 'Wuminggui Execution Assembly' in Liuzhou was just a cover—in truth, he was gathering conspirators. The depot chief acted decisively, galloping over five hundred miles to kill that conspiracy in the cradle."
"But…but shouldn't this have been reported to the Liuzhou garrison so the garrison soldiers could arrest him? How…how…" Yu Xianru, whose life had proceeded smoothly until now, had never heard anything so shocking. He wiped sweat from his face. "B-besides, Liu Guicang was a martial artist. He opened a number of training halls. It makes sense that his residence would be stocked with weapons—"
Situ Jin interrupted him, opening the final box to reveal the gleaming firearms inside. "Did it make sense for him to hoard firearms too?" He picked one up and weighed it in his hand. "This is a Wulei Shenji matchlock, explicitly banned from private possession by imperial decree. That treacherous scoundrel knowingly violated the law. What kind of sense does that make, I wonder?"
Seeing the firearms, Yu Xianru was completely dumbfounded. "Commander Situ, I-I had no knowledge of this!" he gasped. "To think that traitor was hoarding firearms! He deserves ten thousand deaths! Thank heavens the depot chief arrived in time—otherwise, Liu Guicang would've bathed Liuzhou in blood!"
Situ Jin carried on indifferently. "As for why the depot chief came here personally, rather than sending orders to Liuzhou… Exactly how much silver did you take from Liu Guicang, Sir Yu? If the local garrison had been the ones to seize his account books, rather than the depot chief, I'm afraid you couldn't have escaped a guilty charge. The depot chief disguised himself as a Garden assassin to avoid a public panic. He didn't want news of Liu Guicang's planned rebellion to erupt. That would certainly have lowered the people's morale."
Situ Jin's words struck Yu Xianru's mind like a thunderbolt. He was so scared that his legs trembled and nearly gave out. After a moment, he realized the depot chief had saved his life, and his eyes instantly welled with grateful tears. He dropped to his knees and pressed his head to ground repeatedly. "Thank you for saving my life, Depot Chief! Thank you!"
Situ Jin shook his head at Sir Yu's groveling and didn't bother with him further. He walked toward the back rooms, passing through the hall and down a winding walkway. The side room's red-lacquered door soon became faintly visible among the trees.
Situ Jin approached the door and bowed. "Depot Chief, the matter has been handled as you instructed," he reported. "The entire Eastern Depot will now be convinced that Liu Guicang rebelled."
"Good," rasped a hoarse voice from inside the room. "Come in."
Situ Jin entered the room. Shen Jue half reclined on a luohan bed, his ink-black hair spilling over the bed's inner railing. He wore only a plain white inner robe, collar open, revealing the bandages wrapped around his body. He didn't look at Situ Jin but gazed through the window at the spider flowers outside. They blossomed in clusters like misty, dreamlike clouds.
"What did Wei De tell you to say?" Shen Jue asked indifferently.
"Depot Chief, you left your post without permission and disappeared without notice," Situ Jin said with downcast eyes. "Wei-gonggong is furious. He says it wouldn't matter if you were on your deathbed—you must return to the palace at once. If you don't…"
Shen Jue's gaze swept toward Situ Jin, cold as frost. "If I don't…?"
"If you don't, he'll send you back to the Cold Palace to sweep courtyards and forbid you from entering the Directorate of Ceremonial ever again."
"I see." Shen Jue sat up. "In that case, we depart tomorrow."
"Understood." Situ Jin again bowed deeply but didn't leave. Shen Jue looked at him. "Depot Chief, forgive your servant for overstepping. Your trip this time wasn't to kill Liu Guicang but to save the Wuminggui. And that Wuminggui…he was Sixi-gonggong from the Cold Palace, wasn't he?"
"Situ Jin, you talk too much."
"On the night the late Noble Consort was assassinated, the depot chief risked his life to sneak into the imperial physician's office to steal medicine for his sick roommate, Sixi-gonggong. Later, your humble subordinate heard that Sixi-gonggong escaped from the palace, never to be found. He wasn't Sixi after all; he was the injured assassin."
Shen Jue's gaze was icy. "Situ Jin, I never knew you were so nosy."
Situ Jin continued softly. "Back then, you said he was the person who most cared for you. You have risked life and limb for him time and time again. Why not seize this chance to take him away? Qiye Garden…is but a living hell."
"Has spending too much time with women turned you into a chatterbox?" Shen Jue asked impatiently. "Dismissed!"
Situ Jin bowed with clasped hands. "Your humble subordinate has already discreetly arranged for their safe passage beyond the city walls. The depot chief need not worry. May the depot chief continue to look after his own health." Situ Jin retreated a few steps, then turned and left.
Shen Jue remained silent. Only after Situ Jin was long gone did he stand and look back out the window at the dazzling spider flowers.
"The time isn't right just yet. The antidote for Seven Fifteen isn't finished, and Wei De is still alive. If I can't even protect myself, how…how could I protect him?"
He thought of Xiahou Lian's warm body pressed tightly against his as they charged the chopping block on horseback. That was the first time in seven years that they'd been so close, moving as if they shared one heart and mind. A faint smile touched his lips. Shen Jue reached out and touched a delicate petal that bowed toward the window.
"A-Lian," he said hoarsely, "wait for me."