Zhang Se looked around. All the guards had fallen. Their bodies lay still, some twitching slightly as if trapped in a nightmare. Thankfully, the dark Qi didn't seem to affect the horses—they stood firm, their breaths heavy but steady.
Princess Wei remained unaffected, standing tall beside him. Of course—her Qi was protective in nature. It shielded her, keeping the dark energy at bay. Bai Ren, too, seemed to be holding up, though his stance was tense, his grip on his sword unshaken.
After a few moments, the assassin playing the flute lowered his instrument. He tilted his head slightly, realizing that Zhang Se, the princess, and Bai Ren were still standing. His technique had failed.
The two masked assassins descended from the tree, their movements unnervingly smooth, like shadows slipping through the air. The one with the flute stepped forward, his voice eerily calm as he spoke.
"Prince Zhang Se, Princess Wei. Congratulations on your wedding."
Zhang Se let out a dry chuckle, rubbing his ears as if shaking off are wethe lingering pain. Then he smirked.
"Oh? If I knew you were this good with the flute, I would have invited you to play at the wedding, too bad you would have made the audience pass out."
The assassin with the umbrella let out an irritated sigh. "I'm busy. Let's get this over with."
The flutist chuckled, twirling his instrument between his fingers. "Always so impatient, brother. You should enjoy the performance."
Without another word, he lifted the flute to his lips and blew a short, sharp melody. Unlike before, these notes were faster, more concentrated, carrying tendrils of dark Qi that slithered through the air like invisible daggers.
Before Zhang Se could react, Princess Wei stepped in front of him, her hands glowing with a faint golden hue as her protective Qi shielded them from the assault. The dark Qi dissipated upon contact, unable to breach her defense. She turned back to Zhang Se, her expression determined.
"I'll handle this one."
Zhang Se met her gaze, seeing the resolve burning in her eyes. He gave a short nod. "Bai Ren, support her."
Bai Ren hesitated. "But—"
"I'll be fine," Zhang Se cut him off, his voice steady.
With that, he turned his focus to the other assassin—the one with the umbrella. The man stood calmly, gripping the handle of his closed umbrella with an almost casual confidence.
Zhang Se took a step forward, and with a flick of his wrist, a sword materialized in his hand. Its blade shimmered with a mix of red and yellow.
The assassin raised an eyebrow. "So, you fight with a sword?" A smirk played at his lips. "Good. Let's see if you're worth a duel."
Zhang Se tightened his grip on his weapon. "Then let's swordplay."
The assassin let go of his umbrella, letting it fall weightlessly to the ground. In its place, tendrils of dark Qi curled around his fingers, twisting and solidifying into the shape of a sword—its blade a deep, smoky black with veins of crimson pulsing along its edges. Without hesitation, he vanished.
Zhang Se's eyes widened.
Fast—
Before the thought even finished, the assassin was already in front of him, his dark Qi sword slicing through the air toward Zhang Se's neck. Instinct took over. Zhang Se barely had time to raise his sword to meet the attack. Steel clashed against steel, the force of the impact sending a tremor up his arms.
Pain shot through his fingers. His grip almost faltered.
Damn…
His hands shook violently, his sword humming with the strain. The assassin's blade was coated in dark Qi, amplifying its force, while Zhang Se's remained bare. Not because he refused to use his Qi—but because he couldn't.
The assassin tilted his head, amusement flickering in his dark eyes. "What a pity." His voice was low, mocking. "A man once known as a prodigy can't even hold his own sword. You've become less than what you were."
Zhang Se gritted his teeth, forcing his arms to steady. "Even if I'm less than I was…" He shoved forward, breaking their deadlock, forcing space between them. His grip on his sword tightened. "I'm still more than enough to defeat you."
The assassin smirked. "Let's put that to the test."
Then they moved.
Zhang Se lunged first, his blade cutting through the air with a sharp whistle. The assassin twisted his body, sidestepping effortlessly before countering with a precise thrust aimed at Zhang Se's ribs. Zhang Se barely managed to twist out of the way, the tip of the dark Qi sword grazing his tunic, leaving a thin, smoldering cut along the fabric.
They broke apart again, only to clash once more—steel flashing in the dim light, the sound of their strikes echoing across the battlefield.
The assassin fought with an eerie fluidity, his blade weaving through the air like a serpent, each movement precise, calculated. Zhang Se, on the other hand, relied on instinct and raw talent, his body remembering what his Qi could no longer support.
A downward strike. Zhang Se barely blocked in time.
A sharp turn. The assassin's sword nearly sliced his shoulder.
Zhang Se ducked, his own blade carving an arc toward the assassin's side. The assassin leaped back, barely avoiding the edge before surging forward again.
Their battle blurred into a relentless exchange of blows, neither side willing to yield. Sparks flew as their swords met again and again, the sheer force of their strikes sending small shockwaves through the air.
Zhang Se could feel it—his body beginning to strain, his arms aching with every parry. He needed to end this soon.
The assassin grinned. "Tired already?"
Zhang Se exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders. "Not even close."
Then, without warning, he shifted his stance, lowering his sword just slightly. A bait.
The assassin took it.
He lunged forward, his sword aimed directly for Zhang Se's chest. But the moment his blade committed to the strike, Zhang Se twisted to the side, pivoting on his foot, and swung his sword upward in a sharp arc.
The assassin barely had time to react.
His dark Qi sword met Zhang Se's blade once again, but this time, the force sent him skidding back several feet, dust kicking up beneath his feet. His smirk faltered for just a second.
Zhang Se exhaled, steadying his grip. "What's wrong?" He smirked, lifting his sword. "Not as easy as you thought, huh?"
The assassin twirled his sword once, then grinned. "Just as I thought."
Zhang Se narrowed his eyes, steadying his breathing.
"You can keep up with me using just one sword…" The assassin lifted his free hand, and in a swirl of dark Qi, another blade materialized, identical to the first. His grin widened. "But what about two?"
Zhang Se's expression didn't change, but deep down, he felt it. The weight of the fight had already begun pressing down on him. His arms were sore, his muscles burning. His sword felt heavier than before. But now, he had to face this?
The assassin wasted no time.
He lunged forward, his movements even faster now, his twin swords a blur. Zhang Se barely managed to block the first strike, his sword clashing against the left blade—only for the right blade to come sweeping in low. Zhang Se twisted his body, narrowly avoiding the attack. But the assassin wasn't done.
A step. A pivot. A strike from an impossible angle.
Zhang Se barely dodged, but the assassin's blade still nicked his sleeve, slicing clean through the fabric. Before Zhang Se could counter, the assassin shifted again, his footwork impeccable, almost unnatural. He moved like a shadow, his steps light, barely making a sound.
Then he was gone.
Shit—!
Zhang Se barely reacted in time. He ducked just as a blade came slicing down from above, missing his head by inches. He spun away, creating distance, but the assassin was relentless, closing the gap with ease.
A strike from the left. Zhang Se blocked.
A sudden sweep from the right. He barely parried.
Then a sharp kick to his side.
Zhang Se staggered back, coughing as the impact rattled his ribs. His grip on his sword tightened. His legs ached from dodging, his arms from blocking. He could feel his body slowing down.
The assassin tilted his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. "What's wrong, prince? Already falling behind?"
Zhang Se exhaled sharply, wiping sweat from his brow. "I don't know… maybe you're just trying too hard to impress me."
The assassin chuckled. "Oh, I don't need to try hard. You're making this easy."
Then he moved again—fast, unpredictable. His swords cut through the air like black lightning, each strike forcing Zhang Se to give ground. His footwork was perfect, his attacks seamless. There was no wasted movement, no hesitation.
Zhang Se gritted his teeth.
If not for this damn curse…!
His mind screamed in frustration. If only he could coat his blade in Qi, reinforce his arms, strengthen his movements—he wouldn't be struggling like this. He wouldn't be forced on the defensive.
Another attack. A downward slash. Zhang Se blocked, but the force nearly sent him to his knees.
A quick step back. A thrust toward his chest. Zhang Se twisted, barely dodging, but the second sword came crashing down toward his shoulder. He had no time to dodge.
Damn—!
At the last moment, he raised his sword, barely catching the strike, but the force still sent a jolt of pain down his arm. His knees nearly buckled.
The assassin clicked his tongue. "Tsk, tsk. You were a prodigy once, weren't you? This is disappointing."