aircannonsinc Chapter 307 This is really going to kill him!
Chapter 307 This is really going to kill him!
Under the hazy sky, the official road stretched from the southern horizon like a pale scar.
Zhao Laosi ran along this scar.
He had been running all night, from dusk yesterday to this afternoon, from the foot of the city wall of Liyang Imperial City to this wilderness he had never set foot in before.
The muscles in my legs were so sore that I had lost all feeling. The soles of my shoes had worn through, and pebbles were embedded in my flesh. Every step felt like walking on needles.
But he dared not stop, nor could he stop.
His breaths produced a rough hissing sound in his chest, like an old bellows being repeatedly pulled.
My lungs were filled with cold air, and each breath felt like a knife cutting into my flesh.
He's still running.
The warm energy in his dantian had thinned to the point of being like a dying ember, with only a few dark red embers remaining.
Sweat soaked through his inner clothes, sticking stickily to his back, then dried in the wind, forming a thin layer of salt crystals.
Only one thought remained in his mind.
Run back and deliver the message.
The hole in the sole of the shoe grew larger and larger, with pebbles embedding themselves in the flesh, and blood seeping from the heel, leaving a trail of tiny, dark red spots on the gray pavement.
He looked down at the bloodstains and suddenly remembered that eight years ago, he had also run south from the North in the same way.
At that time, he was thirty years old and had served in the Northern Army for twelve years. He had risen from a small blacksmith to a second-rank martial artist, and from a clueless young man to the most silent and inconspicuous spy in the Northern Border.
When His Highness the Crown Prince speaks to him personally, it's not an order, it's a conversation.
"Zhao Laosi, you go to Liyang." He said okay.
"Don't do anything after you get there, just stay alive." He agreed.
"When they need you, someone will come to you," he said.
Then he arrived.
I traveled from north to south along this road for a full eleven days.
It was springtime, and the wildflowers on both sides of the road were in full bloom, red, purple, yellow, and white, in patches, like someone had spilled a vat of dye.
He lived in Liyang for eight years before he realized how good it really was.
Winters here don't have the bone-chilling winds of the North, summers don't have the deadly mosquitoes of the North, and spring comes early and autumn goes late.
The rice here is white, the vegetables are green, and the water is sweet.
He worked as a blacksmith here for eight years, making sharp and durable kitchen knives and sturdy farm tools. His neighbors called him Master Zhao, and the children called him Uncle Zhao.
Eight years, nearly three thousand days and nights.
He thought he would grow old and die here, and that the things, the people, and the secret documents of the North would slowly rot away in his belly over the years.
But last night, Liu Hongyan stood at the entrance of the blacksmith's shop, with a dark mass of imperial guards behind her. The moonlight shone on her face, revealing the swollen handprints, the scabbed wound at the corner of her mouth, and her empty eyes.
At that moment, he knew it was time to go back.
Eight years have passed; it's time to end this.
No matter what it takes, he has to go back.
The true energy in his dantian had burned to its limit, and the warm embers were gradually darkening and cooling.
The muscles in his legs started to cramp, and the calf of his left leg twisted into a hard lump, so painful that he almost cried out.
He gritted his teeth, hopped a few steps on his right leg, and waited for the spasm to subside before landing and continuing to run.
The trees on both sides of the road became denser and denser, from a few bare trees to a sparse patch, and from a sparse patch to a dense forest.
The leaves have all fallen, leaving only grayish-white branches, each one reaching towards the sky like countless withered, pleading hands.
The wind howled through the woods, like someone was crying.
His pace slowed, not because he was tired, but because he saw the fork in the road.
The official road splits into two here: one leads northeast to the northern border, and the other leads northwest to Xiliang.
At the crossroads stands a stone tablet with two large characters engraved on it: "Look North".
He stood there panting heavily, sweat trickling down his forehead and into his eyes, stinging his vision.
He straightened up, took a step, and walked toward the road leading to the North.
Then he saw the knives.
The knives, reflecting a blinding white light in the afternoon sun, flashed out from behind the woods on both sides of the road—one, two, ten, twenty.
Then came the hands that held swords, the soldiers in light armor, and the silent, well-trained figures, who emerged from the shadows of the trees and lined up ten feet in front of him.
Zhao Laosi suddenly stopped in his tracks.
Imperial Guards.
Liyang Imperial Guard.
How did they get here?
How did we know he would take this route?
How did we know he would pass by here?
"kill!"
The captain in charge gave a low shout, and the thirty imperial guards simultaneously drew their swords, the blades slicing through the air with a neat and sharp whistling sound.
Zhao Laosi didn't move; he just stood there, watching the white light surge towards him.
His legs were still trembling, his lungs were still aching, and the true energy in his dantian had been burned down to a barely perceptible trace.
He didn't draw his sword; he just stood there, watching the men rush towards him.
The first soldier to rush forward was young, with a youthful innocence still lingering on his face.
The blade traced a bright arc in the sunlight as it cleaved down toward his head.
Zhao Laosi turned to the side, and the knife grazed his ear, bringing with it a gust of cold wind.
He raised his right hand and slapped the soldier's wrist, breaking the wrist bone and sending the knife flying out of his hand.
He reached out and caught the knife, then slashed it across the soldier's throat with a backhand motion. Blood beads burst open in the air, like tiny red plum blossoms.
More Imperial Guards surged forward.
The second slash came from the left, but he dodged it and stabbed the man in the ribs with a backhand.
The third blow came from the right, and he had no time to dodge, so he could only block it with his left arm.
The blade sliced across his forearm, flesh rolled back, blood spurted out, and splattered all over his face.
He grunted, and with a swift motion, swung the knife in his right hand, slicing it across the man's neck, sending another cloud of blood mist through the air.
He killed three people and wounded five others, but he himself was stabbed twice.
One knife wound was in his left arm, and the other in his back. The wounds weren't deep, but blood kept flowing, soaking his clothes and making them stick to his body.
His breathing became more and more rapid, and his vision began to blur, with the figures of the Imperial Guards casting double shadows in his eyes.
He took a step back, then another, until his back pressed against a withered tree.
The rough bark hurt his back wound, but the pain brought him back to his senses.
He squinted, counted, and there were still more than twenty left.
He grinned, gripped the dagger in his hand, and a ruthless glint flashed in his eyes.
Although these imperial guards were powerful and their teamwork was excellent, he was not without a chance.
If he fights desperately, he still has a chance to break through the encirclement!
Just then, he saw her.
Liu Hongyan walked out from behind the Imperial Guards.
She wore a moon-white dress, and the orchid embroidered in silver thread on the lapel shimmered faintly in the afternoon sunlight.
Her long hair was tied up with a silver hairpin, and a few stray strands fell around her cheeks, making her face look even paler.
The red, swollen handprints are still there, as is the scabbed wound at the corner of my mouth.
But something in those eyes was different.
It wasn't the kind of empty emptiness I felt last night, but a deeper, colder, and more thorough emptiness.
Zhao Laosi looked at her, his pupils slightly contracting.
All the thoughts he had repeatedly pondered, deduced, and tried to convince himself of on the road surged into his mind at this moment.
He remembered her standing at the blacksmith's shop last night, the moonlight shining on her face, the red and swollen handprints, the wound at the corner of her mouth, and those empty eyes.
She stood there in silence for a long time, looking at him for a long time, and then said "Take him away" in a very soft and faint voice.
He didn't speak, didn't struggle, and didn't even glance at her.
Because he knew she must have had her reasons; she was forced into it. The injuries on her face, the emptiness in her eyes, and the unnaturally long silence all told him that she was forced.
She had spent so many years in the North and was one of the Crown Prince's most trusted people.
How could someone like that possibly betray the North?
So he didn't ask, didn't struggle, and didn't look at her.
He was afraid that if he looked at her, he wouldn't be able to resist asking questions, that if he asked her, she wouldn't be able to resist telling him, that if she told him, the Imperial Guards would hear, and those knives would be at her neck.
He swallowed all his words, suppressed all his doubts, and hid all his trust in the back of his back as he turned away.
He thought about it all night on the road, running and thinking, panting and thinking, bleeding and thinking.
He told himself to believe her, that she was forced, that she had no choice, and that she must have her reasons.
So he ran desperately to send the message back, to let His Highness the Crown Prince know that Liu Hongyan was not a traitor.
But at this moment, he watched her walk out from behind the Imperial Guards, looked at the short blade in her hand, and at the cold, expressionless face on her face.
He suddenly realized that his judgment was wrong.
If Liu Hongyan really hadn't betrayed him, then why would she have traveled thousands of miles to intercept and kill him?
If Liu Hongyan didn't betray them, how do you explain all of this happening?
After all, only Liu Hongyan knew this route.
"Liu Hongyan".
He spoke, his voice hoarse as if grinding sand, each word seeming to be forced out from his throat.
"You traitor."
He spoke slowly and deliberately, each word like a sharp blade tempered in ice, carrying a deep-seated hatred.
"His Highness has treated you well, why did you betray the Northern Border?"
Liu Hongyan looked at him, at his face covered in blood and sweat, at the burning hatred in his eyes, at the still-bleeding wound on his left arm, and at the worn-out shoe on his foot.
Her face was expressionless.
"There is no hope in the North."
She spoke, her voice soft and calm.
"I simply abandoned darkness and embraced the light."
Zhao Laosi's pupils suddenly contracted.
"Abandoning darkness for light?"
His voice suddenly rose, like a wild beast whose tail had been stepped on.
"Liu Hongyan! You grew up in the Northern Territory, you became an adult in the Northern Territory! His Highness gave you everything! His Highness trusted you, valued you, and treated you as his closest kin! Is this how you repay him?!"
Liu Hongyan looked at his face, contorted with rage, and at the burning hatred in his eyes, but said nothing.
"What did the Li Yang Dynasty promise you?"
He spoke slowly and deliberately, each word seeming to be squeezed out from between his teeth.
"You're going to betray the North, betray His Highness, betray those who have followed you for so many years?"
He remembered Old Zhang, the old man who had run a teahouse in the east of the city for twelve years, who would always smile and brew her a pot of the best Longjing tea whenever they met.
He thought of Li Erniu, the young man whose palms were always sweating with nervousness. She had personally picked him up from the snow, trained him herself, and sent him to Liyang.
He thought of Wang Defa, the silent man who had fed horses at the official post station for twenty years, who risked his life on every mission.
He thought of those people who were put into prison vans last night, those people she had personally betrayed and sent to their deaths.
With each face that flashed through his mind, the anger and murderous intent in his heart intensified.
He couldn't imagine how Liu Hongyan could be so cruel and ruthless!
This is absolutely outrageous and inhumane!
Liu Hongyan looked at him and suddenly smiled.
The smile was faint and gentle, the corners of her mouth slightly upturned, which aggravated the scabbed wound, causing a trickle of blood to seep out and draw a thin, dark red line across her pale lips.
"You surrender first, and then I'll tell you."
Zhao Laosi was stunned for a moment, then a deeper anger flashed in his eyes, and a cold smile appeared on his lips.
"Don't even think about it!"
Liu Hongyan didn't speak again, but simply raised her hand. The short blade gleamed coldly in the sunlight. Her hand was steady, so steady that it didn't tremble at all.
Zhao Laosi took a deep breath and gripped the knife tightly in his hand.
His legs were still shaking, his lungs were still aching, and the last wisp of true energy in his dantian had burned down to its last bit.
But he can't back down anymore.
If we retreat any further, we'll reach the northern border.
If he retreats further, it will be to those who are waiting for him to return.
If he retreats any further, that will be the last line of defense he has held for eight years.
"kill!"
He let out a low roar, his body suddenly leaping up as he lunged towards Liu Hongyan.
The blade traced a bright arc in the sunlight as it slashed towards her neck.
He used all his strength in this strike, squeezing out the last wisp of true energy from his dantian and pouring it into the blade, causing a layer of pale golden light to emanate from its edge.
Liu Hongyan did not dodge.
She just stood there, watching the knife slash towards her, the blade getting closer and closer until she could see the bloodstains on the blade and smell the lingering rust.
Then she moved.
With a slight shift in her body, the blade grazed her shoulder and sliced off a few strands of hair.
She turned to the side, and with a backhand thrust, stabbed the short blade towards his ribs.
Zhao Laosi's sword strike was already too late to defend, so he could only twist his body and forcefully deflect the fatal blow by half an inch.
The short blade grazed his ribs, tearing flesh and spurting blood that splashed onto her moon-white dress, blooming into a shocking flower of blood.
Zhao Laosi groaned and staggered back a few steps, covering the wound under his ribs with his left hand, blood seeping from between his fingers.
He looked up at her, his eyes filled with disbelief.
Her skills were faster, more ruthless, and more decisive than he had imagined.
This is not acting, not just going through the motions, not just dealing with the surveillance of the Imperial Guards.
This is a real attempt to kill him!