Chapter One: A Deadly Journey Chapter Two: In the Company of Monarchs and Tigers

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The woman in green, her face equally clouded with worry, exchanged a silent, uncertain glance with the others, her eyes questioning what she herself did not fully understand.

At last, the woman in purple could no longer hold back and spoke up: “My lord, Die has some questions.”

“Oh?” The scholar in the scholar’s robe, cradling a little girl in his arms, turned his gaze from the carriage window toward her and answered calmly, “Speak.”

“My lord, why don’t we rescue them? If we lack manpower, we could hand the evidence over to the Empress. She knows you well enough to bring the culprits to justice. Once the captives are freed, even the Sovereign, with all his power, could do nothing! Why do you insist on leaving with the evidence? If we depart like this, the false charges against us will become reality!”

“You do not understand! Think of all those wanted posters on the city wall as we left! With the evidence in our hands, we are instantly branded traitors, accused of colluding with the enemy—can’t you see?” The scholar’s voice was heavy with sighs. “All my life I have righted wrongs, loyally served the country, yet who would have thought I would end up branded as a traitor? To serve the sovereign is to live at the edge of the tiger’s maw!”

“Father, don’t sigh!” The ten-year-old girl in his arms tried to comfort him. She did not understand the adults’ conversation, but hearing her father sigh so often, her tender voice rang out at just the right moment: “In Ling’er’s heart, father is the most amazing person in the world! All the bad people run away when they see you!” Ling’er blinked her bright, clear eyes, her lashes fluttering like butterflies.

She gazed up at her father with adoration, her serious eyes showing a wisdom beyond her years. “When I grow up, I want to be a good person like father, and drive away all the bad people!”

Perhaps it was the sudden jolt of the carriage, or the unnatural silence outside, but everyone inside realized something was wrong. It seemed their pursuers had caught up.

A heavy sense of dread settled over them all. The murderous intent was drawing ever nearer...

“Ling’er, what should we do?” Sensing the danger closing in, the woman in green guessed the road ahead would not be easily traveled. She had a sinking feeling that they stood on the brink of death. Thinking of her daughter, only ten years old, she muttered helplessly, “What will become of Ling’er? She’s so young, she knows nothing—what will she do?”

“Yun, calm yourself! Listen to me, please?” The scholar gathered her into his arms, comforting her gently. Once she’d recovered her composure, he turned to the woman in purple. “Die, you have the best lightness skill—take Ling’er with you. No matter what happens to us, do not look back. Just bring her to Ganliang Road. I’m counting on you.” He too felt the pain of parting with his youngest daughter.

Having made arrangements for Ling’er, he closed his eyes again. She would not let him go, not even now. Even though he no longer pursued the matter, even though the Di estate had been burned, she would not rest until all was destroyed. Perhaps, in her eyes, only the dead were truly safe.

Gazing at the shadow cast on the carriage curtain, he sighed, “This journey has been hardest of all on our driver.”

Yun and Die exchanged glances and nodded. Their uninvited guests were moving fast—they were nearly upon the carriage.

“They’ve surrounded us, haven’t they?” The scholar, holding Ling’er, took in the worried looks of the two women. “Ruthless—he intends to wipe us all out.”

After a moment’s thought, as if making a final decision, he handed his folding fan to Ling’er, looking at her with grave earnestness. “Ling’er, remember what father says—never seek revenge! Unless the dynasty falls, vengeance would only bring suffering to the innocent. Do you understand?”

“Yes, father, I understand.” Ling’er nodded obediently. She did not yet grasp the meaning, but she knew one day she would.

“That’s enough. Die, Ling’er is in your hands. Promise me you’ll keep her safe, do you understand?” The scholar could not help but repeat his instructions.

“Die understands, you have my word.” Yet Die’s eyes lingered on the driver’s back, full of concern. She wondered how much chance he had of surviving what was to come.

Eyeing the wild thickets and fallen trees lining the narrow road under the early night, the young driver’s lips curled in a slight, cold smile. So many fools courting death. It was time to deal with these unwelcome tails. His deep eyes shone with killing intent.

His left hand gripped the reins; his right hand drifted to his waist, closing around the hilt of the weapon that had accompanied him through half his life—a chained blade.

A gleam flashed in his eyes. Without slowing the carriage, he stood tall in a single bound.

With a flick of his wrist, the blade became a streak of white light, whistling through the air toward a black-clad figure who had, unnoticed, leapt into midair...

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A dull sound: the blade sliced through cloth and pierced flesh. The black-garbed man had no time to cry out before all strength drained mysteriously from his body. He fell heavily to the ground.

With a twist of the wrist, the chain-blade whistled again, its bright edge slashing across the throats of several more black-clad men before they could react. Blood sprayed as they tumbled to the earth.

As his old strength ebbed and new force had yet to rise, he tapped his right foot lightly atop his left, borrowing force to leap away. The chain-blade in his hand did not slow but struck at yet more foes. Several more unfortunates fell, joining the others.

With a flick and a pull, the chain-blade returned obediently to his grasp. He landed as lightly as a feather, not raising a speck of dust.

His cold eyes swept over the few survivors at the front of the carriage, his voice as chilling as a death knell: “Who else wishes to die?”

The remaining black-clad assassins exchanged glances, but none dared cross that line.

Night had fallen. The narrow road was frighteningly silent.

All knew this was merely the calm before the storm. Only the ignorant cries of insects in the roadside thickets persisted.

Hearing the screams outside cease for the moment, those inside the carriage felt their hearts settle, if only a little. They exchanged glances and let out a breath.

The young Ling’er had been frightened half to death by the sudden violence. She trembled in Die’s embrace.

Die cradled her tenderly, tapping lightly at several points on her back with her left hand, sending her into a deep sleep. The child was too young to witness such bloodshed.

Her right hand never released the purple jade flute, her eyes fixed unblinkingly on the curtain swayed by inner force.

Between Yun’s fingers, several gleaming silver needles lay concealed, her face murderous and alert, poised to act at any moment.

Compared to the women’s vigilance, the scholar remained placid: If fate is kind, so be it; if not, it cannot be escaped.

“How impressive, truly impressive! You are indeed worthy of being the Grand General of the Imperial Guards—your skill is extraordinary!” Amid crisp applause, two men in black appeared on the moonlit road.

“If I am not mistaken, you must be the Azure Dragon, fifth among the ‘Seven Dragons,’” the young man’s gaze swept over the dozens of black-clad men behind him, finally settling on the barely visible insignia on this man’s chest.

“They say the Dis are cunning, but you are a warrior. It seems the rumors are wrong—your mind is no less sharp than his, the one they call the Fox,” Azure Dragon said, feeling a kinship with this formidable foe.

“Defeated once, and here we meet again,” the youth said, eyes on the one-armed man behind Azure Dragon. “If you fail again, will your Sovereign take your head this time? Let’s hope your helpers won’t disappoint me as before.”

“You... A gentleman can be killed, but not humiliated! I will kill you today if it’s the last thing I do!” roared the one-armed man—Crimson Dragon, who had lost his arm as punishment for failing to kill this Li last time.

Before Azure Dragon could respond, Crimson Dragon leapt forward, eyes ablaze, swinging a massive nine-ring broadsword toward the youth’s head.

He was, after all, the top-ranked of the Seven Dragons. The heavy blade danced like a tiger in his hand, the “Split Mount Hua” strike unleashed to its utmost. Had it landed, not even nine lives could have saved the youth.

But his opponent was the formidable General Li, and the outcome was decided from the start.

He did not even finish a single move. The youth’s figure vanished in a flash.

Crimson Dragon felt a chill at his throat, the terror of death crashing over him.

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Yet suddenly, Crimson Dragon smiled strangely at the youth and said, “You have lost.”

The youth frowned, staring at the man whose neck was ensnared by the chain yet could still smile. He felt uneasy but did not hesitate—one hard pull, and Crimson Dragon fell with a grin frozen on his face.

That smile, however, filled the youth with a sense of foreboding—a warrior’s instinct that seldom failed him.

He frowned, for he loathed situations beyond his control.

Yet there was no time to ponder. He looked coldly at the remaining black-clad men, his tone mocking: “You chased me all the way from Luoyang—surely you haven’t come just to die? If so, I’d be happy to oblige. It seems your so-called Sovereign is not so formidable after all.”

“To be honest, anyone who sets themselves against you is truly unlucky,” Azure Dragon said, glancing at the long-dead Crimson Dragon, then at the youth’s murderous gaze, a bitter smile on his face. “Anyone you name as an enemy is doomed to live in fear.”

“What? You’ve decided to stand aside?” the youth asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

“If I could, I would not wish to be your enemy, but the Sovereign’s command cannot be denied,” Azure Dragon replied, knowing that in a direct confrontation he could not win. He would have to resort to cunning.

He turned to his men. “Leave him to me. You all go—kill everyone in the carriage. Leave no survivors!”

Azure Dragon was indeed worthy of being one of the Seven Dragons. Instantly, he had found the youth’s weakness. For a true master, no deadly technique was as effective as threatening his greatest vulnerability.

Clearly, the people in the carriage were the youth’s Achilles’ heel.

Were it not for the Sovereign’s command, he would have preferred to befriend this man. But they served opposing masters—such was fate. “Alas, we are fated to be enemies, not friends,” Azure Dragon murmured.

Hearing Azure Dragon’s order to attack the carriage, the youth’s fury blazed. “Spare me your empty sentiments—let our skills speak!”

With those words, he moved.

He reached for the chain-blade’s hilt and swiftly unhooked the chain. With a twist, the blade split in two, each half embedded in the hilt’s ends.

A spin of his hands, and the twin short blades shot toward Azure Dragon’s vitals.

Azure Dragon, recognizing the deadly threat, reacted instantly—leaning back, one hand bracing the ground, the twin blades whizzing past his cheek. Where the blades passed, death followed, felling most of the remaining assassins in an instant.

At this moment, the people from the carriage began to descend.

“Come on! Taste my skill!” Yun, just alighted, showed no mercy as she flung her ready silver needles at the nearest black-clad men, felling them in a flash.

From her sleep, Ling’er woke, not knowing when, and was carried down by Die.

“Butterflies...?!” she exclaimed, seeing the colorful butterflies fluttering in the moonlight, tugging at Die’s sleeve with delight as if discovering a wonder.

“Die Auntie...”

She called to her mother, who stood guard, “Mother, look! Butterflies! So many butterflies! Mother, look!”