29. Leaping from the Cliff

Jing Chen understood what Jing Wei was planning. They were probing for information, and he could never expose the Thirty-Six Heavenly Stars or the rebar. Those were his secret weapons!

Jing Chen’s eyes darted around. He feigned delight, clapping his hands and shouting, "A martial arts contest? Wonderful! I love watching a good fight. It’s just that I’m a bit faint of heart, and since it’s my birthday, I’d rather not see blood. Let’s forgo weapons and stick to hand-to-hand combat! Why are you all just standing there? I am the master of the house today—everyone must obey my command!"

Jing Wei sent out Sun Li of the Seventy-Two Earthly Fiends, and Jing Chen ordered Zhang Meng to face him.

The hall was ablaze with light. Jing Chen, seated upon the gilded dragon throne, nodded slightly, his jade thumb ring tapping rhythmically against the sandalwood armrest.

Without warning, Sun Li moved.

His hulking, tower-like frame erupted with startling speed, his right fist driving straight toward the center of Jing Chen’s formation, the force of the blow tearing through the air.

Zhang Meng neither blocked nor parried. With a light tap of his toes, he glided aside half a step like a white crane skimming across water. The edge of the fist grazed his ear, the sheer wind pressure causing his hair to fly wildly.

"Can you only hide?" Sun Li’s voice rumbled like thunder as he unleashed a barrage of punches. His assault was like a landslide or a crashing sea, each blow aiming for a vital point.

Zhang Meng danced through the rain of attacks, his robes fluttering like a butterfly as he avoided lethal strikes by mere hairbreadths. The officials watched, holding their breath, hearing only the whistling of the wind created by the strikes.

After ten rounds, Zhang Meng suddenly cut into a gap in the punch-net. His left hand formed a sword-finger, striking swiftly at his opponent’s elbow joint.

Sun Li sneered and shifted his technique, his palm, as large as a fan, lunging out—but he grasped only air.

Before anyone realized it, Zhang Meng had circled behind him, his palm edge lightly slicing against the side of his neck.

Sun Li stumbled forward two steps and collapsed to his knees, a red welt blooming on his neck. A stifled gasp rippled through the hall.

Zhang Meng cupped his hands in a salute: "I concede!"

Sun Li’s face flushed red, his eyes glaring coldly at Zhang Meng. With a single glance from Jing Wei, Sun Li lowered his head and retreated behind him.

"Seventh Brother, having such fierce warriors as your guards puts my mind at ease. These are merely tough soldiers from the ranks, using basic military boxing—very dull indeed. Some martial artists from the pugilistic world have come to seek my patronage lately; I wonder, does my Seventh Brother have any other guards?" Jing Wei asked with a smile.

Jing Chen frowned and shook his head, "I’m afraid I’ve disappointed you, Second Brother. Everyone in my manor is just a servant or a garrison soldier assigned to me by the Emperor."

"Seventh Brother, you aren't being honest. What about that fellow you sent the Fengxiao Sword to last time? I saw that he was clearly a man of the pugilistic world!" Jing Wei persisted.

"Second Brother, he is just a head escort from a security firm, with only mediocre skills. I have already sent him to request the Divine Physician Sun of Medicine King Valley to treat my ailments; he is not in the manor," Jing Chen explained.

After some more pleasantries, the banquet concluded.

"Your Highness, Pi San and the others tried to make contact with the people under the Prince of Qin. We kept a tight watch, and they failed to succeed. We can be certain they are his men," Zhao Hu reported.

"Jing Ming’s loss was not unjust. Poor fool, he’s been sold and is still helping the others count the money," Jing Chen instructed. "Keep a close eye on the manor. I have business to attend to tonight; I’ll be going out alone."

Jing Chen donned a simple disguise, transforming into Boss Huang, a horse trader. Carrying his rebar and the newly crafted Zhuge repeating crossbow, he set out on horseback.

He simply wanted to confirm his suspicions. His analysis led him to believe that the poisoning of Jing Xuan had likely been tacitly approved by Jing Wei. If Jing Wei could strike such a cruel blow against his own son, then Yang Simin might not fare well either.

Less than a mile from the Prince of Qin’s manor stood a small hill, flanked by high walls and towering, straight trees.

From afar, the sounds of fighting could be heard. Jing Chen tethered his horse near the hill and climbed to the top.

He saw a group of masked men in tight-fitting clothes besieging Jing Wei’s carriage, while his guards formed a defensive ring around it. Jing Wei and his wife, Yang Simin, were inside.

Jing Wei leaped out of the carriage to fight the masked men. Jing Chen narrowed his eyes; something was wrong. When these men struck at Jing Wei, they held back their strength, but their arrows were all aimed at Yang Simin inside the carriage, while they fought desperately against Jing Wei’s guards.

Jing Wei shouted, "Gather around me! Protect me!"

The guards hesitated—what about the Princess? Were they to abandon her? Jing Wei cursed furiously, "Are you all deaf? Gather around me!"

The guards abandoned the carriage, surrounding Jing Wei instead.

Jing Chen gave a cold, thin smile. Moving stealthily, he climbed over the wall, scrambled up a large tree, and steadied himself.

"Oh, Second Brother, my dear Second Brother," he thought. "Since you want to act, I shall turn your charade into a reality. This should keep you busy for a while. I hope you can survive it!"

Jing Chen pulled out his repeating crossbow and fired five arrows in quick succession. Men on both sides fell. One arrow struck Jing Wei, who screamed, "You mother-f***ing idiots! Who is shooting at me? Who did that?"

Hearing Jing Wei’s cry, Yang Simin felt as though her heart were being pierced. He had abandoned her, leaving her to face danger alone. This was a trap designed specifically for her, meant to ensure her elimination.

Yang Simin’s tears had run dry; her heart was as cold as ash.

Three masked men drove the carriage away. Jing Chen watched for a moment before slipping away quietly.

All the arrows Jing Chen had fired were coated in black mamba venom.

Watching the carriage speed away, the lead masked man shouted, "Retreat! Pull back!"

Jing Wei was carried back into his manor, his breathing labored, his head swimming with dizziness.

Dongfang Ying took one look, his spirit shaken, and immediately ordered, "This is bad! The Prince has been struck by poisoned arrows. Quickly, get the antidote!"

In a nearby grove of trees, the masked men removed their veils. A woman’s voice could be heard: "Imperial Brother, are you alright? Who was shooting at us? Could it have been the Prince of Qin’s men?"

Nangong Feilong replied, "Feifeng, do not guess blindly. The Prince of Qin has always treated us with sincerity and courtesy. Besides, I saw that he was wounded as well! I suspect it was another of the princes."

As he spoke, Nangong Feilong shivered. "Imperial Brother, have some of the brothers from the Sky Wolf Palace stay in the wild tonight and enter the city tomorrow. Let me apply some styptic powder to your wounds."

The rapid running had caused his blood to surge, and Nangong Feilong began to vomit. Another soldier hit by an arrow collapsed to the ground, convulsing.

"This is bad! The arrows are poisoned! Quickly, carry my brother to the Prince of Qin’s manor!" Nangong Feifeng cried, her eyes brimming with tears.

Nangong Feilong’s lips were already turning deep purple, his teeth clenched tight. He could no longer speak...

The city gates were locked tight. The East and South districts were centers for officials and wealthy merchants. Only the West district, with the Changjiang River running through it, was a vast expanse of farmland, forests, pastures, and endless reed marshes...

Only the West district offered a way out of the city without passing through the gates. It was Jing Chen’s territory, and he knew it better than anyone.

Yang Simin felt a sense of trepidation, hoping only to avoid humiliation and to die with her dignity intact. It would be a debt paid to her ancestors, and she would not have disgraced her family name. The only thing she could not let go of was Jing Xuan—the flesh of her flesh.

Suddenly, the carriage came to an abrupt halt, and Yang Simin was thrown to the floor. Were they going to kill her here? She gently pulled back a corner of the curtain.

Under the brilliant moonlight, a young man stood in the middle of the road.

He had a broad frame, handsome features, and wore a silver robe. It was none other than the tenant from the De Yi Restaurant, Boss Huang.

Yang Simin could not help but widen her eyes.

The three men sneered as they surrounded Jing Chen. Then, Jing Chen moved.

He didn't retreat but advanced, side-stepping a lethal blade. His right hand moved with a deceptively slow speed, sticking to his opponent’s wrist. With a simple pull and lead, the attacker was shocked to find his fierce strength redirected! Unable to check his momentum, he lunged forward. Jing Chen stepped in, the rebar crashing into the man’s skull, shattering it instantly.

In a flash, another black-clad man darted behind Jing Chen. Jing Chen spun and stepped, the rebar in his right hand slamming into the man’s heart. It looked like a light blow, but it caused the man’s entire body to vibrate violently. He vomited blood onto the ground and collapsed, unable to rise again. His bones were shattered.

Jing Chen approached the last masked man with a smile, a flicker of fear crossing the man’s eyes.

Suddenly, the man raised his bow and aimed at Jing Chen. Jing Chen watched him intently, hearing a bird-like whistle from the man’s lips. Jing Chen was slightly taken aback. The man gave a wicked, crooked smile and fired an arrow into the carriage.

Jing Chen cursed silently and lunged forward, slamming the rebar into the man’s neck. Blood gushed out, and the man’s head lolled to the side—he was dead beyond any doubt.

Jing Chen pulled back the curtain. Yang Simin was shivering, tears streaming down her face. An arrow was lodged in her left shoulder, and another in her right chest...

Jing Chen prepared to drive the carriage away, but he saw that the horse’s belly was riddled with arrows, and it had already collapsed.

At that moment, the rapid, chaotic sound of hoofbeats echoed from the forest, surging toward them.

There was no time to think. Jing Chen could not take the horse, so he scooped up Yang Simin and began to run toward the nearby mountains.

Yang Simin clutched his neck tightly, her tears falling like broken pearls.

"Young Master Huang, please put me down! Don't worry about me. My life is not worth saving; I don't want to drag you down with me."

The only answer she received was the sound of Jing Chen’s heavy breathing.

The full moon of the fifteenth day was bright, illuminating the world like daylight.

He was exhausted; he could run no further. They reached the summit, and below them, a dark, swarming mass of people was ascending the mountain.

Jing Chen picked up a stone and threw it down the slope. He heard a splash and began to count in his heart.

Seeing the crowd reach the halfway point, Jing Chen picked up Yang Simin, a look of resolve flashing in his eyes.

"Simin," he said, "trust me. We will not die."

Yang Simin nodded, smiling bitterly. "We could not share a bed in life, but we shall accompany each other in death! Fate is cruel! I trust you."

With the arrows still in her, Jing Chen held Yang Simin tightly against his back. She closed her eyes, and the two of them leaped into the darkness.