Chapter Thirty-Five: Shadow Sting

The Demon Valley closed, and the Season of Flames drew to an end.

After the decisive battle at Luoshui, Duan Yaoqi, having left a portion of his troops to guard the city, quickly led the rest away. He had no desire to provoke conflict with the Snow Kingdom at this juncture. Both nations had suffered grievous losses in the war, and the pyrrhic nature of their victory was largely due to the corruption within his own ranks. Duan Yaoqi felt some guilt and believed that another clash with the Snow Kingdom would benefit neither side.

Ye Pei vanished into Demon Valley. The Ye Battalion later searched the valley meticulously, but by then, it was nothing more than an ordinary gorge—no sign of life or corpse was found.

In his report, Mo Lei wrote that Ye Pei disappeared in Demon Valley, but nearly the entire army believed she had perished. The shock of her loss was mostly confined to the Ye Battalion; other soldiers of the Snow Kingdom barely knew her, and in the days that followed, they only heard tales of her extraordinary martial skills.

After the war, neither Yue Zhe nor Jiang Zhongqing were seen again. Yet a later incident was universally attributed to them.

Once the aftermath was hastily settled, Snow Kingdom’s troops also withdrew home, and many soldiers received promotions. But the news of Ye Linhui’s death, following so closely after Ye Pei’s disappearance, was an unbearable calamity for the Ye family.

Lady Ye shed no more tears. Perhaps, when Ye Linhui died, her tears had dried up forever.

Every day, Ye Feilan would sit outside the training grounds with food in hand, dazedly watching, still seeing Ye Pei’s figure wielding weapons with grace and vigor within.

Upon hearing the news, Long Que left Shunxing City after notifying her family, journeying southwest. She believed that if she encountered Ye Pei there, he would surely need her medical skills.

Soon after, Lady Ye made a decision.

Let us set this aside for now, and turn to Yue Zhe.

After Ye Pei fell, stepping on Lin Yufei’s corpse into the red mists of Demon Valley and vanishing without a trace, Yue Zhe, consumed by grief and anger, soon recalled that one of the traitors had yet to be punished.

The Emperor of Xia—Xia Xun.

Yue Zhe glanced around. He did not know where Jiang Zhongqing, who had fought alongside him to slay Feng Xiaoyang, had gone. He had hoped for the young swordsman’s aid, but finding himself alone, he abandoned the thought. Watching the Ye Battalion swarm into the now-empty Demon Valley, Yue Zhe sheathed his twin blades, mounted his horse, and rode straight for Starlight City, capital of the Xia Kingdom.

Duan Yaoqi’s forces had departed two days later than Yue Zhe and, weary and encumbered by baggage, moved slowly. Yue Zhe rode alone and entered Starlight City when the Xia army was barely halfway home.

Yue Zhe had anticipated this. Though the palace’s experts would still be within, the absence of much of the army worked to his advantage.

For several days, Yue Zhe roamed the city, confirming his path into and out of the palace before fixing his resolve.

On the midnight of the fifth day, a faint fluttering of clothing sounded as Yue Zhe, clad in nightwear, landed lightly atop the palace wall.

“Hmph… Even though this won’t bring Ye Pei back, whether she lives or dies, I, Yue Zhe, will uphold justice!”

Just as he leapt onto a side hall, intending to move toward the emperor’s chambers, he suddenly noticed, at a distant corner of the palace, a dark figure standing atop the high Stargazing Tower.

The figure seemed to glance his way, or perhaps paid him no heed at all. After standing silently for several seconds, the figure tilted forward and plunged straight down.

“Hey… That tower must be at least fifteen or twenty meters high… Even Ye Pei wouldn’t dare leap down directly… Is this person a fool?”

Yue Zhe initially thought this was another kindred spirit coming to assassinate the Emperor out of righteous indignation, but never expected the person to simply jump. What happened next, however, utterly upended Yue Zhe’s understanding of martial arts.

In midair, the figure suddenly turned into a cloud of black mist, vanished, and then reappeared about three meters below. After several such flashes, the figure landed atop a side hall not far from the Stargazing Tower.

“What… what kind of technique is that…”

Yue Zhe could think of no theory to explain what he had just witnessed. Shaking his head, he continued along his original planned route.

Soon, and without incident, Yue Zhe reached the entrance to the emperor’s bedchamber. Lights still flickered within, and shadows moved.

With eyes burning with hatred, Yue Zhe gazed at a window, drawing his twin blades silently from the sheaths on his back.

A note on this: Many have wondered how one draws swords sheathed across the back. Given the length of such blades, it’s only plausible for giants like Sima Yan or Liu Bei—legends said to have arms that reach below the knee. I believe back scabbards have a side slit, allowing the blade to slide out, not be drawn straight up. Just my theory—take it or leave it.

Regardless, Yue Zhe’s scabbards did have such slits.

Drawing his blades, Yue Zhe crept to the doors, slipped inside the main hall, and made not the slightest sound.

But scarcely had he entered when—swish, swish!—two arrows, one high, one low, shot toward him in the candlelight. Years of martial training kicked in, and he flung himself backward, narrowly dodging both.

“Who goes there! How dare you trespass in His Majesty’s bedchamber!”

A shout rang out, and five men sprang from the shadows, surrounding Yue Zhe.

The shout startled the inner chamber, and a woman’s scream rang out, barely muffled by Xia Xun’s calming words. The emperor called, “What is the commotion?”

One of the guards replied, “An assassin, Your Majesty! We have him surrounded; others guard Your Majesty. Please do not worry!”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than Yue Zhe seized the initiative, his twin blades flashing as he lunged toward the emperor’s chamber.

“Insolence!”

With that cry, all five drew their weapons and charged.

Yue Zhe cursed inwardly. He had trained since childhood and was undeniably a master, able to sense each of these five could not best him alone. But they practiced the same style and fought in perfect harmony. Only by using his inner strength and agility, darting and weaving, could he handle at most two at a time—barely holding his own.

When wielding one blade, you rely on your hand; with two, on your footwork. Though Ye Pei had teased him about his technique, Yue Zhe’s movements were as graceful as ever—an ordinary martial artist, even in numbers, would not have been able to touch him.

In terms of agility, perhaps Ye Pei had greater innate talent, displaying a dizzying array of techniques. In a direct fight, however, the two had grown apart in skill over the years. Perhaps once they were evenly matched, but now, in a fight to the death, Yue Zhe would likely prevail—though if Ye Pei chose to flee, he could neither stop nor catch her.

As Yue Zhe fought furiously with the palace guards, Emperor Xia Xun, believing himself safe, turned his attention back to his consort…

Suddenly, the roof of the bedchamber burst open, and a black-clad figure dropped, a short sword in hand, its blade dazzling in the mingled moonlight and candlelight.

At the very moment the figure began to descend, a guard sprang up to intercept, only for black mist to flicker around the intruder—who vanished instantly.

The next moment, the black-clad figure materialized in the shadow of a clothes rack, a rough voice laughing coldly: “With all these protectors, do you think you can escape death?”

“Brazen assassin! You’ll not wreak havoc here!” As the airborne guard landed, another rushed in, sword aimed at the intruder.

The black-clad figure’s eyes radiated lethal intent toward the emperor. As the sword neared, black mist shimmered again. The figure appeared to retreat a pace but then reappeared before the astonished guard, out of the sword’s reach. In that instant, the short sword flashed and slit the guard’s throat. With a kick, the body flew, toppling a candlestick; the cast shadows of the emperor and consort loomed on the wall behind them.

The consort had already fainted dead away, and the emperor could only hold her, staring blankly at the scene.

As the first guard turned to attack, the black-clad figure vanished again, and a gleaming blade silently extended from the shadow on the wall behind the emperor…

“What’s happening in there?” Hearing the turmoil within, one of the five guards fighting Yue Zhe called out.

When no reply came and the chamber suddenly fell silent, the guards exchanged glances. One prepared to enter, but before he could break from the skirmish, a severed head flew from the inner chamber, followed by a black-clad figure streaking toward the exit.

Closer inspection revealed the head belonged to none other than Emperor Xia.

“Your Majesty!”

In their shock, the five guards faltered, and Yue Zhe, seeing that the emperor was dead, wasted no time. He followed the black-clad figure, the two vaulting over walls and roofs, fleeing into the night.

The palace guards rushed out to give chase, but by then, the two were long gone.

“May I ask, hero…” Once clear of the palace and having run some distance, Yue Zhe lowered his mask and saluted.

The black-clad figure turned away, as if to remove a mask and spit something out. Turning back, the mask was already in place.

“Don’t call me hero,” came a girl’s voice from behind the mask. “I’m just an assassin.”

Yue Zhe, stunned, nevertheless replied, “May I ask why you came to kill the emperor?”

“He betrayed his kin. He deserved to die.”

“May I ask who trained you?”

Yue Zhe was acquainted with the great heroes and famous masters of the Yueyun region.

The masked girl replied, “I can’t tell you. Besides, you wouldn’t know.”

Yue Zhe said, “Though I didn’t see your handiwork clearly, to kill the emperor so swiftly under heavy guard, your skills must come from a renowned school of assassins.”

The masked girl gave a soft, derisive laugh. “The famous ones are killers. The nameless ones are assassins.”

Yue Zhe was struck by her words and was pondering them when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw she had already slipped away. He called after her, “May I ask your name?”

He did not expect an answer and was about to leave with a wry smile when the night wind carried back a few words.

“Leng Mujun.”