The night wind howled mournfully as Yang Heng's body burned on the ground, casting flickering shadows across the room. The shattered wine jar continued to spill its contents, and the hand that had just extinguished the flames trembled faintly in the darkness. Their gazes met in mid-air. Despite his severe injuries, the scholar's eyes remained cold and sharp, unchanged from the start.
"Sometimes, it's just like this…" the scholar said, enunciating each word with precision. "Take one wrong step, and you're dead."
The second half of the phrase echoed his earlier words. Yang Yi scanned his surroundings: his eldest son, still clinging to life but on the brink of death, the missing family members, and his brother lying lifeless on the floor. He had taken dozens of hostages before, yet had never encountered anything like this. A seemingly weak scholar, a bookish weakling… but those eyes were nothing like those of a scholar. Even among the most ruthless desperados, he had never seen such ferocious and decisive eyes. That trembling hand, juxtaposed with that unwavering gaze, revealed a man as merciless to himself as he was to his enemies.
It was as though he had unknowingly dragged home a harmless rabbit, only to find that it bared its fangs at the first opportunity. By the time he realized it, the rabbit had already wreaked havoc, leaving behind a blood-soaked massacre. As he turned to look, all that remained was carnage and the rabbit's eyes, dyed blood red.
Grinding his teeth, Yang Yi called out, "Erlang—" His voice resounded through the house and into the night sky but met no reply. Moments later, he called again: "His mother—" The sound carried, but there was still no answer. His eyes reddened as he let out a bitter laugh before bellowing one final name: "Dalang—" He released the crossbow in his hand, his gaze turning toward the steel blade lying on the ground beside Yang Heng's burning corpse.
"I'll tear you apart…"
Biting off each word through gritted teeth, he strode toward the blade. But just then, he saw the steel rod slowly leave his son's neck. With the restraint gone, his son staggered and swayed. Perhaps jolted awake by his father's shout, his son's consciousness seemed to flicker back. The scholar untied the rope with a flick of his hand, letting it fall away.
For a brief instant, Yang Yi's focus sharpened to its peak.
The scholar took a step back and suddenly delivered a ferocious kick to his son's back.
In the flickering firelight, Yang Yi's son stumbled forward, his footsteps clumsy and unsteady as he careened toward his father. On the other side of the room, the scholar raised the steel rod high into the air.
"Ah—!"
"Ahhh—!"
Amid the shouts, the scholar hurled the steel rod with all his might. Yang Yi reacted instantly, lunging forward to pull his son aside. The rod whistled through the air, grazing his hand and leaving a trail of blood. The scholar, now only a short distance away, swung a wine jar with full force.
Crash!
Yang Yi made no effort to dodge, instead charging straight into the scholar and sending him flying. The jar shattered against his head, splashing wine everywhere. The scholar was flung several meters back, colliding with a cabinet and coughing up blood. Fueled solely by a murderous rage, Yang Yi charged forward, his fist raised high.
The scholar reached behind him.
"One wrong step, and you're dead…"
Yang Yi hesitated for the briefest moment, his punch landing in empty space. The scholar's eyes flashed with triumph as he bent forward desperately and darted toward the door. Yang Yi refused to let him escape, seizing a cabinet and hurling it toward the doorway. The cabinet smashed against the door, splintering apart, but the scholar stumbled in another direction, his target now the steel blade only a few steps away.
A wine jar flew through the air, crashing into Yang Heng's burning corpse and briefly dimming the flames with its contents. The scholar tumbled forward, tripped by a shard of debris. Yang Yi closed the distance in an instant, leaping halfway across the room. The scholar, ever resilient, scrambled to his feet and grabbed another empty wine jar to hurl it. Yang Yi didn't even flinch, closing in to grab the scholar's chest with one hand while swinging his fist with the other.
The scholar fumbled for another jar behind him, his hand slipping off the rim. He reached again as the sound of a fist cutting through the air grew closer.
"I'll tear you—"
Thud.
Yang Yi staggered mid-sentence. His punch struck the scholar's shoulder, sending him sprawling to the ground, skidding over a meter away.
"…apart," Yang Yi muttered, his voice dropping to a low murmur. He stood frozen, his balance faltering slightly. He glanced from the scholar lying on the ground to his son, his vision wavering as he tried to focus.
A heavy iron weight, sharp-edged and unyielding, was embedded deep in his skull. Blood surged from his head, dripping down his temples, through his hair, and onto his neck.
The scholar stumbled several times before steadying himself against a cabinet and rising.
Wine jars had posed no threat to Yang Yi in his rage, nor had empty hands. But the single momentary hesitation, prompted by the scholar's earlier feint, had sealed his fate. One misstep would mean death—there had been no other choice.
Yang Yi wobbled where he stood, and the scholar drew a deep breath, steeling himself against the pain radiating through his body. With a cold gaze, he walked over to Yang Heng's corpse, picking up the steel blade. His eyes met Yang Yi's, who turned toward him in a daze. Without hesitation, the scholar swung the blade, decapitating Yang Yi's son with a clean stroke. Then, with a reverse grip, he cleaved the blade down toward Yang Yi's head.
Blood sprayed in an arc.
"You should have killed me the moment you had the chance…"
He whispered these words before unleashing a second, then a third ferocious strike. Finally, Yang Yi's body collapsed. The scholar made sure to drive the blade into each of his enemies before stumbling back to lean against the wall, trembling uncontrollably and utterly drained.
"Hah…"
Fear and tension surged in fully at this moment. Though he had died once before, it didn't mean he could easily accept dying again at any given time. Fear, panic, and unease still had their place in his heart. Even in his previous life, situations where blades clashed with no room to retreat had been rare. Planning and scheming could only do so much—most of it was left to fate, walking the razor's edge of death's threat. Fortunately, he had managed to get through this ordeal, leaving him a brief moment to catch his breath and feel a lingering sense of relief.
He paced within the blood-soaked room, picked up a jar of wine, and smashed it onto Yang Heng's body. The spilled wine extinguished the flames. He picked up another jar and did the same. The light in the room gradually dimmed until it was extinguished entirely.
The light flickered back on, a small oil lamp casting a dim glow over the room. The corpses, blood, and chaos created a desolate scene. In the faint light, a figure sat amid the mess. Scattered around him were various remedies for wounds and bruises. He clenched one end of a bandage with his teeth, pulling the other end tight with his right hand, binding his injured left arm.
It was a pity he hadn't had the chance to interrogate who was behind this.
Under such circumstances, there was no way to account for everything. He suppressed his emotions with cold composure, focusing solely on the goal of killing the opponent. If he couldn't defeat them, his only option would have been to stall them long enough to escape. Even so, the ferocity of the Yang brothers had exceeded his expectations. Despite him taking a hostage, they had continued their relentless aggression, leaving no chance for further interrogation.
Clear threats were manageable, but this time there was no clue at all. Someone was watching him from the shadows, but he didn't know who. This kind of uncertainty was what he found most intolerable.
The pain in his arm, shoulder, and chest continued to throb. He took a swig of wine, stood up, and surveyed the house again. Picking up the crossbow, he placed it on the table, pushed open the door, and stepped outside. The house was perched in a desolate area by the riverbed, with shallow water below. A simple wooden walkway connected the house to the road leading to the riverbank, where a grove of trees stood. In the distance, a low hill loomed under a sky dotted with morning stars.
Ning Yi stood there, gazing at the distant mountains, the nearby river, the woods ahead, and the boat house behind him, lost in thought. He lingered for a while before turning back.
The door closed behind him, and the light inside dimmed once again.
The hour of the rat (midnight)... How much longer until then?
Translation:
Fear and tension surged uncontrollably at this moment. He had died once before, but that didn't mean he was ready to face death again so soon. Fear, panic, and anxiety still lingered. Even in his past life, there were few occasions where he faced such deadly, close-quarters confrontations. While plans and strategies played their part, much was still left to fate, walking a tightrope alongside the shadow of death. Fortunately, he managed to get past this hurdle, leaving him some time to catch his breath and savor the lingering dread in relief.
He walked through the blood-soaked room, picked up a wine jar, and smashed it onto Yang Heng's body. The wine doused the flames, and then he grabbed another jar. Gradually, the light in the room dimmed and went out.
The light flickered back on—a tiny glow from an oil lamp. The room was littered with corpses, blood, and debris. In the faint light sat a figure, surrounded by various herbal medicines for treating injuries. He bit down on one end of a bandage with his teeth and tugged on the other end with his right hand, tightly wrapping his injured left arm.
It was unfortunate he didn't have the chance to find out who was behind this.
Under such circumstances, it was impossible to attend to everything. He had reined in his emotions with cold precision and focused solely on killing his enemies. If he couldn't achieve that, his goal was at least to delay them long enough to escape. However, the ferocity of the brothers had taken him by surprise. Even with a hostage, their relentless aggression had left no room for negotiation or interrogation.
Dealing with visible threats was manageable, but having an unseen enemy lurking in the shadows unnerved him. He couldn't tolerate not knowing who was pulling the strings.
Pain radiated from his arm, shoulder, and chest. He took a swig of wine, stood up, and surveyed the house again. Picking up the crossbow, he placed it on the table and stepped outside.
The house was perched near an isolated riverbed. The water below seemed shallow, and a crude wooden walkway led to a path by the shore. Beyond the bank stood a cluster of trees, a small hill in the distance, and the twinkling morning stars in the sky.
Ning Yi stood there, gazing at the distant hills, the flowing water, the forest ahead, and the boathouse behind him. He pondered for a long while.
Then he turned back inside.
The door closed, and the light dimmed once more.
The hour of the rat (midnight)... How much longer until then?
As the hour of the pig (around 9–11 p.m.) approached, a farewell banquet at an inn outside the city gates was winding down. Gu Yanzhen bid farewell to his friends and headed to a small manor nearby with his attendant,Lao Liu.
For this trip to Raozhou, Gu Yanzhen had decided to bring only a few attendants. Among his trusted aides, only Lao Liu knew the most about his plans. The others might have had vague suspicions but would naturally keep silent.
He went to the village to check on the supplies needed for the journey. There were three carriages in total. He inspected the middle one, pulling back the curtain to reveal a large cage inside, seemingly meant for holding prisoners.
After a brief glance, he nodded coldly.
"Stay in the residence near Xinlinpu for a month, then set off for Raozhou. After that, treat her as if she's either insane or dead—ignore her completely."
He then turned his attention to the items prepared for his time in Le Ping: the gifts to be sent and the resources needed. Though the journey had just begun, most of his thoughts were already focused on Le Ping and his plans for the future.
As for the decisions already made, they required no further deliberation—they were trivial matters now.
"Let's go. It's about time to check if the Yang brothers have completed their task."
"They've never failed before; it should be fine."
"Nothing is certain until I see it with my own eyes."
Gu Yanzhen shook his head. "I don't deal in assumptions."
Although he spoke those words, there wasn't much real concern in Gu Yanzhen's heart. Confirming matters was simply a habit of his. Once confirmed, he could proceed with targeting Yun Zhu. If this plan failed and he ended up capturing Yun Zhu, the result would likely be a humiliating loss of face. He couldn't bear such ridicule, akin to that slap he once received on the street. As for what followed, everything else was already set in stone. Scholars, romantic talents—they were all the same under the blade. After showing that woman the consequences, he would never feel a shred of pity for her again. A month later... this matter would be completely resolved. He would head to Le Ping, sever his inner demons, and leave without the slightest regret.
Along the way, he discussed plans for Le Ping with Lao Liu: to whom they should present gifts, how much to give, and what actions to take to win public favor. Lao Liu carried a torch ahead, and as they approached the mountain ridge, he stopped to observe. On the hilltop, there was also a torch signal—three turns to the left and three to the right. Their side responded similarly, and the torch on the hill signaled backward.
Gu Yanzhen watched it all, familiar with the process as he had been here once before. He had many matters to think about, so he simply bowed his head in contemplation, laying out his plans. He considered his strategies for one year, even several years into the future. Perhaps next time, it would be better to go through Prime Minister Li's connections. After all, Li was a military official, and seeking a transition from scholar to soldier might not meet with rejection—provided his tenure yielded outstanding achievements.
Gu Yanzhen already had a comprehensive plan for Le Ping. Within three years, he aimed to improve the people's livelihoods significantly. Bold and decisive action would be needed. Three years later, the tensions and wars between Liao, Jin, and Da Wu would likely reach their peak—it was impossible to resolve such conflicts within three years. That would be the time for heroes to carve out their legacies.
It was a pity, though. If only he had started three years earlier, had accomplishments now, and could join the initial campaigns perhaps this year or next—that would have been ideal. But there was no point in lamenting such things. A slight delay in timing just meant he had to work harder. The three years he spent navigating various connections in Tokyo had been a waste of time. If he ever rose to power, he would see to it that such mediocrity was thoroughly eradicated.
Passing through a forested path and then the bamboo groves along the riverbank, the faint light of a house on the water came into view ahead. Lao Liu walked in front while Gu Yanzhen trailed behind with his head lowered. To be honest, he still felt somewhat uneasy dealing with those two brothers. Thinking about other matters allowed him to appear more composed. The wind wailed, and the sound of the flowing river filled the night. As they approached the door, a certain tension reached its peak, though Gu Yanzhen forced himself to ignore it. The smell of alcohol wafted out—it seemed the group inside might be drinking, as expected.
Lao Liu pushed open the ajar door, and there was a metallic clang from within, followed by a series of sounds—ping, pong, hiss—as the lights went out. Gu Yanzhen couldn't make sense of this reaction.
In the next instant, a thunderous crash erupted. The door planks splintered just a short distance ahead of him. A heavy beam shot out from inside, hurtling directly at Lao Liu's face before swinging back again. A second later, the roof of the house collapsed right before Gu Yanzhen's eyes. Amid the massive tremor, the beam dragged the roof down into the house.
Lao Liu fell into the shallow river nearby, where a few arrows protruding from the riverbed pierced through his chest. Thick blood swirled with the flowing water, dissipating into faint streaks. Just moments ago, this vibrant and robust bodyguard had been at his side; now, he was reduced to a lifeless corpse.
A shard of the shattered door planks struck Gu Yanzhen's face and fell into the river. All his thoughts came to a screeching halt. Gu Yanzhen stood there, dumbfounded, staring blankly for a long while.
The night wind howled past. Beneath the starlight, his lone figure stood before the boat house, adrift and aimless, like a shadow with no place to belong.