Chapter 24: The Assassin in Black

Damn it, how is it that everyone can tell I’m a woman dressed as a man!

Jiang Zhuo cursed inwardly while trying her best to dodge the waves of sword strikes raining down on her, retreating deeper into the layers of curtains. The black-clad assassin’s blade moved faster than she could escape. Within a few blinks of an eye, the heavy curtains in the room were shredded, and the sharp edge of a sword came to rest against Jiang Zhuo’s throat.

"Back off, all of you, or I’ll kill her!" the assassin behind her barked.

Jiang Zhuo drew a sharp breath.

"Dammit! Do you even know who she is before taking her hostage?" Jiang Lie pulled his long sword from the chest of another assassin, gritting his teeth.

"Calm down, Brother Jiang," Bai Feijun said calmly as he sheathed his sword. "We need a live captive; otherwise, this mess will be impossible to resolve."

"You! And you! Both of you, drop your swords!" The increasingly panicked assassin’s gaze darted between Jiang Lie and Bai Feijun, pressing the blade tighter against Jiang Zhuo’s neck. "Otherwise, no matter who she is, she dies here today!"

Jiang Zhuo felt a sharp sting at her throat, followed by a trickle of warm liquid flowing down along the edge of the blade.

"You—"

A furious Jiang Lie moved to step forward, but was held back by Bai Feijun beside him. The two men exchanged a look, then both lowered their swords and raised their hands.

"Since she is not your target, why don't you exchange her for one of us?" Bai Feijun offered. "Take me or General Jiang, it's your choice."

Jiang Lie glared at Bai Feijun but said nothing. Jiang Zhuo could feel the blade at her throat rotate as the man behind her turned to face Bai Feijun.

"Then you—"

Before the assassin could finish his sentence, blood began to bubble from his throat. A throwing knife had embedded itself deep into his windpipe with incredible speed. A surge of blood sprayed onto Jiang Zhuo’s snowy-white collar, leaving tiny, scarlet specks.

The assassin looked at Jiang Zhuo in front of him and at the target who had just raised his hands, his expression one of utter disbelief. Then, he collapsed to the ground.

Trembling all over, Jiang Zhuo lost her strength and sank to the floor.

"What happened?" Jiang Lie was the first to rush over, pulling Jiang Zhuo into his arms. "Why did he suddenly die? Who did this?"

***

Jiang Zhuo’s hand, hidden within her long sleeves, remained tightly gripped around her dagger.

It wasn't Jiang Zhuo who had struck. And it certainly wasn't Jiang Lie or Bai Feijun, who were both standing with their hands raised.

It was Black Hawk.

But she had no idea where he had been hiding, nor when he had entered. Had he been there when she arrived? Or had he slipped in through the window with the group of assassins?

Jiang Zhuo didn't know. She was shivering.

In this life and the last, this was the first time Jiang Zhuo had attempted to kill someone. Although she had failed, the man had died right behind her.

"Who knows?" Bai Feijun’s eyes were inscrutable, his emotions unreadable. "Perhaps his own organization decided to silence him."

Though a bit far-fetched, there was no other explanation.

Jiang Lie nodded and began to check Jiang Zhuo’s injury. "It's alright. It looks frightening, but at least it's just a superficial wound." He patted Jiang Zhuo’s head. "How are you? Scared silly?"

"Brother..." Jiang Zhuo’s eyes welled with tears. "Who on earth have you offended to be hunted down like this?"

"That's just how it is," Jiang Lie scratched his head and glanced at Bai Feijun, who was already pragmatically searching for styptic medicine. He sighed helplessly, "When you live on the battlefield, how can you expect not to get cut?"

"Your brother has thick skin; a few cuts are nothing," Bai Feijun said as he returned with medicine and a cloth. "Come now, stop talking. Lift your head, let me tend to your wound."

Jiang Lie glared at Bai Feijun again and reached out to snatch the cloth, but as he was about to wipe away the blood, he suddenly hesitated, then handed the cloth back to Bai Feijun.

"You bandage my sister. I'm going out to check the situation."

What was wrong with him? Watching Jiang Lie practically bolt out of the room, Jiang Zhuo was filled with confusion.

"...Jiang Lie fought his way up from the lowest ranks of the battlefield. When I first met him, he was already a centurion. He had killed about thirty Liao soldiers." For some reason, Bai Feijun began to recount the past.

"In the army, without noble patronage or recommendations, the only rule for promotion is simple: kill. Keep killing, and keep killing. Sometimes it means hacking off enemy heads with a blade, sometimes skewering them with a halberd, but more often than not, it’s hand-to-hand combat—tearing their heads from bloodied corpses. Then, the camp would pile up the collected Liao skulls, stack them high, and the superiors would reward merit accordingly."

The damp cloth felt cold. Bai Feijun carefully wiped the blood from Jiang Zhuo’s neck, trying his best not to let his fingers touch her skin.

"Can you imagine it? A young nobleman in his early twenties, only a year older than me, dressed like a beggar. His hair, his fingernails, all caked with blood, speaking nothing but vulgarities and local slang."

After cleaning the wound, Bai Feijun applied the medicinal powder, bit by bit. It stung, and Jiang Zhuo frowned, biting her lip to keep from crying out.

"He even invited me to drink. I was truly repulsed. I sat down and asked him, 'The Jiang family has been a house of high-ranking officials for generations, and Chancellor Jiang is at the pinnacle of power. Is this how your family teaches its descendants?'"

Bai Feijun pulled out a small piece of silk, wrapped it around Jiang Zhuo’s neck, and carefully tied a knot.

"Guess what your dear cousin said?"

After a long silence, when Jiang Zhuo didn't respond, Bai Feijun looked up and realized that Jiang Zhuo was sweating from the pain.

"...Can I talk now?" Jiang Zhuo asked cautiously.

"Yes, just try not to disturb the wound." Bai Feijun smiled gently, remembering his own instruction for her to stay quiet.

"He must have called Father by his name, saying he didn't have an uncle like Jiang Dun, or that Jiang Dun never considered him part of the Jiang family," Jiang Zhuo replied after some thought.

In Jiang Zhuo’s memories, Jiang Lie was always rebellious, enjoying intentionally drawing his father's attention and contradicting him at every turn. In truth, Jiang Zhuo felt he must have loved their father very much. She often quietly speculated that he was simply so desperate for his father’s approval that it devolved into this state of mutual estrangement.

"Something like that. He said, 'Jiang Dun is nothing! I’m going to become a greater general than him, and one day in the imperial court, I’ll keep him suppressed!'"

Remembering how arrogant Jiang Lie had been when he first entered the army, Jiang Zhuo smiled. Bai Feijun smiled too.

But as she laughed, the smile faded from Jiang Zhuo’s face.

Now that their father was gone, Jiang Lie, worn down by the battlefield, would never fulfill the vision he once held. And perhaps—did Jiang Lie hesitate to bandage her wound because he feared that, just as he had once crushed the lives of the Liao, he might accidentally snap her neck?

Jiang Zhuo couldn't help but feel a pang of heartache.