The Yanyun's surprise attack had crippled the army. The planned counteroffensive was delayed by a month.
Murong Jin's wound had healed. The vanguard had retreated and established a new defensive line. Zuo Xunxiao was consumed with military affairs. Murong Jin, for her part, focused on training her troops. Though in the same camp, they hadn't seen each other for half a month.
Not far from the vanguard's command tent, a figure was hidden in the night. Perched on a branch, he turned an apple in his hand as the wind shifted. He turned. Another man had appeared beside him, also in black, a short, sharp blade in his hand. In the rising moonlight, the blade reflected the faint curve of Xue Liulan's smile.
"So you finally show yourself," Xue Liulan said, tossing the apple. "To hire a blade like yours… the person behind this must be important."
"Xue Liulan?" The assassin's eyes went wide, then the shock melted into a knowing smile. "Hah. So the whole world has been fooled."
Xue Liulan took a bite of his own apple. "I hear Three Feet of Blood charges a high price. I wonder, how much is my wife's head worth?"
The assassin laughed. "What? If it's a high price, are you going to pay it?"
"Just tell me," Xue Liulan said. "An assassin kills for money. The last three who came for her all took a better offer."
"And I also know that after they sold you her head, none of them lived more than two days." Three Feet of Blood looked at his blade. "You've hidden your skills from the world. You wouldn't let them live to tell the tale."
"If you say that, then there's no deal to be made." Xue Liulan tossed the apple core to the ground. "They say you're one of the fastest blades alive. It seems I'll have the chance to see for myself."
His hand went to his hilt. "If we fight here, we'll alert the camp. Shall we find another location?"
Three Feet of Blood considered this. "I imagine you don't want anyone to know the dynasty's most useless prince is a master swordsman."
"Think what you will." Xue Liulan's hand dropped, as if giving up his defense. But every muscle was coiled tight.
He knew who he was facing. The name Three Feet of Blood was famous. A single, fatal strike, the blood always splashing exactly three feet. His shortsword was named Kongjue—Emptiness.
"Those who block my path, die," the assassin said, and launched himself from the branch.
Xue Liulan moved in the same instant, his own sword already drawn. Before his opponent could change form, he had spun, the tip of his blade aimed at the assassin's back.
But this was no amateur. Three Feet of Blood twisted, dodging, and vaulted to a higher perch.
The wind died. Xue Liulan stood, a single leaf, sliced in two by his attack, fluttering to the ground.
"As fast as they say," he smiled.
"You're from Chengyan Valley?" The assassin hadn't expected this. The valley was the fabled source of the Sword Saints.
"A sharp eye." Xue Liulan's gaze fell to the assassin's shoulder, where a small patch of red was visible. He had put eighty percent of his strength into that strike, and it had only been a flesh wound. Siyou's praise had not been an exaggeration.
"Don't you want to know who paid for her life?"
"No," Xue Liulan answered. "I only need to know that she is safe."
The assassin's face changed. But Xue Liulan's sword was already moving, aimed for the space between his eyes. The man blocked, steel ringing through the night as the branch beneath them shattered.
They both leaped, Xue Liulan to a higher branch. But Three Feet of Blood was already in retreat, melting into the darkness.
The sound had alerted the camp. Drums sounded, and soldiers poured from their tents.
Murong Jin grabbed her sword. After hearing the report, her brow furrowed.
"Return to your posts," she ordered. "Double the night patrols."
"Report to Commander Zuo?"
"No need. If they didn't attack, they were likely just scouts. Report any suspicious persons at once."
"Yes, General."
She stood alone before the tree, staring at the broken branches.
Two figures flitted through the trees.
Three Feet of Blood glanced back, and fear shot through him. His lightness skill was his true advantage. Fewer than ten men in the world could keep up with him.
Unfortunately, Xue Liulan was one of them.
As the eastern sky paled, Xue Liulan pushed off from a tree and landed squarely in his path.
The assassin skidded to a halt, his breath ragged.
"You… you've chased me all night. What do you want?"
"Nothing," Xue Liulan said, his arms crossed. "You said it yourself. I can't have you ruining my reputation. A dead man's mouth is the most trustworthy."
"You'd kill me in cold blood?"
"Wasn't that your idea?"
"So be it. Today, one of us dies."
Xue Liulan just looked at him. "It seems a waste to kill you."
"Hmph. We don't know who will kill whom."
He shook his head. "From the moment you met me, your fate was sealed."
The assassin sucked in a breath. That calm expression—he had never seen anyone face the Kongjue blade with such composure. A cold sweat broke out on his palms.
Satisfied, Xue Liulan's smile deepened. He drew his sword. The rising sun caught the blade.
"Leaving you alive is a threat. But more than that, you accepted the contract to kill Murong Jin. That is reason enough."
"I can serve you. I haven't killed your wife."
"That's precisely why I came before you could," Xue Liulan said. He admired his blade. "But you intended to. And for that, you cannot be forgiven."
As his voice faded, he moved. His sword was a silver snake, a relentless tide of attacks that crashed down on the assassin.
For the first dozen moves, Three Feet of Blood held his own. But then he faltered. Xue Liulan's blade sliced into his right shoulder. The Kongjue blade flew from his hand and embedded itself in a tree.
Xue Liulan's sword stopped half an inch from his throat.
"In the art of war," he said, "to attack the city is the lowest strategy. To attack the mind is the highest. Your skill is not inferior to mine. But you lost your nerve."
"You…"
Before he could speak, Xue Liulan's blade flicked forward. The king of assassins was dead.
Only then did he let out a long breath, stumbling back and clutching his chest. When he pulled his hand away, it was covered in blood. The force of the Kongjue blade had grazed him after all.
He gave a bitter laugh. As long as she was safe, it was worth it. He wiped the blood from his sword, and for the first time, it gleamed in sunlight.