Joy of Life

Inside the Floating Temple, the anger in the Emperor’s expression had already faded away. His face was calm, just like the wood chips under his feet; just like the blood in the temple; just like the bodies of the guards and assassins; just like the ones who were injured and unconscious. The sweet fragrance that once permeated the atmosphere here did not exist anymore. Still, his appearance was as if he hadn’t been subject to an assassination attempt, one that had been planned by the enemy for years, almost as if they were indeed having that flower observation event they all enjoyed once every three years.

Someone began cleaning up the mess in the temple. There were many elites in the palace, all gathered up on the top floor. Their numbers were enough to believe they’d make the entire place collapse. The guards that were in charge of the Emperor’s safety looked incredibly pale. And the eunuchs, including Eunuch Dai, were trembling. They did not know if the Emperor’s suffering of an assassination attempt would have a bearing on their own fate in his service. Would these events change their course in life? Or would their lives be ended after all was said and done?

The crown prince had managed to bring himself up, tears running from his eyes. He and the eldest prince were both on their knees before the emperor, saying, “We are so useless! We made our father afraid!”

The eldest prince spoke these words gravely. He had killed countless enemies in the west, but he did not expect that when an assassin came here to attack, he could barely react. And toward Fan Xian, a person he never looked kindly upon, he displayed tremendous prowess in battle with the speed and agility he had rarely seen.

“He was 9th rank; no ordinary fellow. You are the Emperor’s son, and to be unable to react in the face of such adversity is normal.” The Emperor did not seem to lay blame upon his sons, though looked towards the ninth-rank assassin that was killed by Eunuch Hong’s subordinate. He then looked at the broken chalice that was stepped upon by the crown prince, and his eyebrows furrowed a little.

He gently hugged the third prince, who was still in shock. His eyes turned back to gaze upon the chrysanthemums that paved the land below. On the hillside, he was able to see some further movement as the leaves were rustled.

“Let me go,” said Eunuch Hong modestly as he stood behind the Emperor. He didn’t think he should remain by the Emperor’s side after the assassination attempt. “Fan Xian has been sick lately; let me go tend to him.”

The medicine bag that Fan Xian threw upon the floor before he left was eye-catching. The toxic smoke was all over the temple, and there must have been someone who had inadvertently breathed it in. He had left for them an antidote. Seeing the bag lying there on the floor, the Emperor thought that that kid was truly attentive. A guilty look entered the Emperor’s eyes as he thought of this. And now he recalled that Fan Xian had been suffering from some sickness recently. Eunuch Hong had been to visit Fan Xian to confirm the sickness he had, and it was troublesome.

His fingertips lightly tapped the rails of the Floating Temple. It made some noise. Down below, Fan Jing, who had been behind all the nobles this entire time, felt the gentle reverberations and looked up.

“You don’t have to go.” The Emperor coldly said to Eunuch Hong. “I can send someone else.”

After that sentence was spoken, strange noises could be heard from the col below the Floating Temple. A few more shadows appeared from the darkened alcoves, bearing longswords. They followed along the dangerous gap of the mountain and ran into the fields of chrysanthemums. Not long after, they went past the palace guards that had already started moving in the same direction in an attempt to intercept. They were chasing the trails of three people.

Before this temple lay a ravine, and its inclines were steep.

Fan Xian was running across the ravine and through the flower fields that decorated them. He reached out his hand to pick up a branch that was directly in front of him. Smelling the flowers that had been crushed, he breathed in a pleasant smell. It was as if he had just taken opium. The zhenqi in his body was coursing and channeling through him quickly, and the scent aided his recovery of energy and power. His legs were as if they possessed their own pair of eyes as he raced across the stones with dazzling accuracy like a rampaging dragon. With unbelievable speed, he ran down the mountain.

When it came to jumping cliffs, none in this world but Uncle Wu Zhu was faster. Besides, after fighting with the white-clothed swordsmen, the zhenqi inside him had increased by a lot from the shock and adrenaline. With the power he had, and the mental fortitude he possessed, he thought he had reached his zenith. The injuries he had incurred were nothing.

There was a white shadow in front of him that was about a dozen metres ahead. It showed him the way, appearing and disappearing every now and then. The way it moved was with exquisite grace, like flowers petals in the breeze. It softly guided his feet, with each step having a gentler landing; all without the sacrifice of speed. But still, it could not escape Fan Xian’s greater pace – one that was given the benefit of gravity.

The distance that separated them was closing.

The palace guards behind Fan Xian, who were still searching, had no idea of how far he had gone and how behind they truly were. Master Ye Zhong, of renown reputation for being trained in the ways of Zhong, was left following at a great distance.

The tea was still not cold, and both of them had arrived at the foot of the mountain, one after the other. Fan Xian could see the flag of the Royal Guards from afar, and it brought some ease to his mind. But he found out that the white-clothed swordsman had turned around, changing the direction Fan Xian was initially following. He went to the edge of the woodland on the foot of the mountain, heading west. They had now reached flat ground, and the speed Fan Xian possessed was not as good as the man in white. But, the white-clothed swordsman had been punched by Ye Zhong, and that provided him an advantage. Without the culprit’s ability to go full speed, Fan Xian was able to follow him.

But seeing the direction that the opponent chose, Fan Xian felt a chill grasp his heart.

It was difficult to have contact between the top of the mountain and the base of it. The news about the assassination attempt of the Emperor had finally been sent out. The Royal Guards that were at the foot of the mountain were afraid that it was impossible for them to do anything. The white swordsman had selected a way that would make it the most difficult for the guardsmen to get to. It was a wild woodland area; it may not have been the largest, but its canopy and tangled underbrush would provide an effective place for the white-clothed assassin to hide.

Fan Xian was quietly chasing him, hoping that the Royal Guard would not fail in their task because of the mismanagement of the palace and their neglect to cover the forest.

But what made him happy was that outside the woodland area, there was much protection as well. The white-clothed swordsman made a sharp turn at a great speed, barrelling down at a 2 o’clock direction.

Fan Xian was following closely.

The white-clothed swordsman turned around once more.

Fan Xian was following intently.

After a few quick turns and realignments, the white-clothed swordsman managed to maintain his speed and keep a distance from the Royal Guards, but Fan Xian could not spare the energy to call out for aid. A strange noise pierced the air. The white-clothed swordsman appeared to have received a second wind, as he sped up and ran towards the direction of a lake.

...

Fan Xian gritted his teeth, rushing as fast as he could. And then, he took notice of something quite frightening.

The assassin that he had been following had already passed the gathering of Royal Guards.

The field in front of him was empty, without a single guard there. Fan Xian’s heart was shaking, unable to fathom how the white-clothed swordsman had managed to elude the gaze of all the Royal Guards. Aside from the fact that the both of them were traveling at great speed, the only other explanation could be that this swordsman was well-versed in, well-understanding of, and incredibly familiar with the Qing Kingdom’s government, its military, and the inner workings. It was a scary prospect to think of.

Fan Xian thought of Gong Dian, who hadn’t appeared at the Floating Temple today. A chill ran down his spine at the thought of this, but he told himself that this was not the time to contemplate such conspiracies. Ye Zhong was too heavy, and the guards were too slow – there was no one around to slow the culprit’s pace. If he let this assassin disappear right before him, he knew he would have a grave amount of trouble headed his way.

He could not return; he could only give chase. This was his only option.

When it came to his tracking skills, Fan Xian was confident in his dexterity in that regard. Especially when he was in the north of the river alongside a few Tiger Guards. He was able to chase Xiao En, who was well-known around the world. He did not believe that, aside from the four grandmasters, someone was capable of evading him wholly.

But today, many unexpected events had transpired, and his heart had experienced a chilling feeling. First, the culprit was able to bypass the Royal Guards’ lockdown with ease, and then, this felon had managed to display a surprising proficiency in eluding Fan Xian’s grasp. From the foot of the mountain to the lake, he went beyond it and cut through the fields and farms. The white-clothed swordsman had managed to disappear from his vision quite a few times, and if it wasn’t for his incredible vision – and a modicum of luck – he feared that the assassin would have escaped quite some time ago.

The white-clothed swordsman was calm the entire time. It was as if it was a natural ability of his to hide, and it was something that Fan Xian quite admired. He had contact with the Overwatch Council ever since he was small, so he was well aware of how many years and how much training one would need to become as precise as the assassin was.

Fan Xian noticed that the method he used to erase the trail as he went was remarkable, and obviously the work of a professional. It was a gloomy thing to behold, and one that was frighteningly familiar. His mind jumped to the thought that this person was extremely comfortable of being in the dark. The white clothes that the swordsman wore did not match his traits.

Fan Xian thought that this must be the real side of the white-clothed assassin. He was calm, composed, decisive, and wholly evil. These were the best attributes a person could possess.

That slash of the sword in the Floating Temple, although it was powerful and bright, Fan Xian thought it was not as shocking as the dark perception his fleeing enemy was revealing right now. The true strength of this person was now on display, and he was only afraid that it was greater than Xiao En himself. It may have even been greater than his own power.

Fan Xian’s heart was growing more anxious and afraid with each passing second. When he was in the temple, he knew that he was being too impetuous and too excited. Right now, he was calm, reviewing the strength this opponent had displayed there. If it wasn’t for Ye Zhong injuring him, perhaps the only thing Fan Xian would have had to do was stop and stay as far away from the white-clothed man as possible.

...

Both of them were in clear view of the city and its high walls. The momentum was intimidating, and a whooshing sound was heard, the white-clothed assassin’s movement somewhat lagging in finesse. He discarded his long white clothing with one hand, and it revealed plain clothing; the type an average civilian might wear.

The white clothing hit the soil, and a second later, the tip of Fan Xian’s foot landed on them, and he sprinted forward like the wind.

Fan Xian saw that this assassin was already so far away, and he was disguised as a civilian. His feelings toward him were ones of adoration right now. He was unlike any other assassin he had ever seen, one who could avoid populated areas like the plague and instead head out into the wild. It was almost as if he desired to hand himself in, entering the city so brazenly. There were a dozen thousand people in the city, and if he went into the crowds, his identity would blend in with the others to conceal himself in plain sight. Even if the Overwatch Council exhausted all their assets, they may have trouble locating this man once more.

Today, the royal family had gathered up in the Floating Temple, and because of this, the security of the capital itself had slacked. The soldiers near the gate only saw a blur pass them by, and so they rubbed their eyes in bewilderment.

Fan Xian could see it clearly, of course. And now, he could see that the person of his pursuit had already blended in with a crowd of people. Fan Xian was not afraid of shocking anyone, and so he ran through the gate.

No one stopped him from entering, so he was still able to follow the assassin loosely. The capital had a complicated landscape, and it proved to be a tough task for the shadow assassin’s abilities. Fan Xian used everything at his disposal in a bid to not lose sight of the shadowman he was in pursuit of. Luckily, his state of mind was excellent, and so his own speed had not yet waned.

One was quietly hunting, and one was anti-tracking. It was happening within the narrow alleys that coursed between the residential areas of the capital. The danger may not have been as much as last time in the northern river side, but the tension was nearly suffocating.

In the corner of the buildings, a shadow fluttered at the end of a street. He used his cloth shoes to lightly skate across the floor, passing by a lively marketplace in a flash. The shadow knocked down a merchant who was selling candied fruit. Because of this hit, Fan Xian was able to see that the assassin was badly injured. It looked as if he was unable to hold on much longer or control his body.

...

A dead-end appeared in front of them. After the sound of gasping and an extra run, Fan Xian had finally cornered the person at the back of an alley. Following their arduous trek, they had both exhausted much of their energy. Fan Xian’s own face was quite pale, the only color being in his reddened cheeks. His eyes, however, were shining bright. This was the show of the zhenqi in his body that had charged to reach maximum capacity.

The assassin at the end of the alley looked worse. He was in poor shape. The white clothes were long gone, and from the ordinary clothing he now wore, blood seeped through the fabric.

The assassin turned around to reveal a face Fan Xian was totally unfamiliar with. This face was pale as well, as if he had not seen the sunlight in a very long time. He did not know if this was part of his disguise, however. He used a hoarse voice to speak to Fan Xian, who was roughly ten steps away.

“Master Fan, are you not yet tired?”

Fan Xian was surprised, and he quietly said, “I never expected you to run this far.”

The assassin smiled, and he gently used his hands to reach into his clothes and bring out a cold-looking, ancient sword. As he handled this sword, his temperament completely changed. He had changed from a dark assassin fleeing for his life to an arrogant swordsman.

“I never planned to kill you.”

Fan Xian did not say anything in response. He knew that if his opponent had not gotten injured, he would have said something far more ruthless. He felt the chill of his blade from the other end of the alley. Fan Xian gently laid his finger on the trigger of his crossbow, prepared himself to grab the dagger concealed in his boots and readied to throw a vial of the toxic smoke he was quite proficient at using... but when he reached for the dagger it was not there, the toxic smoke had depleted, and the crossbow was gone.

“You are naked.” The nameless assassin coldly mocked. “You only had three bolts, one dagger and fourteen smoke bombs. And now? Now you are bare.”

Fan Xian slowly looked down to the ground and his face grew dark. He knew he was running into the city bare. The three weapons he cherished and used frequently were now not there to aid him. With those weapons, he would be willing to take on Haitang in a fair fight. But to now face this person without his brilliant weaponry, what could he do? He was hoping that the injury inflicted upon his foe would hinder his abilities and that perhaps Wu Zhu would arrive a little faster.

The zhenqi in his body had reached maximum capacity however, and his resolve had not weakened. The zhenqi was twirling around in his veins like countless naughty children, convincing him to unleash it on his opponent. But unexpectedly... he just took a deep breath and suppressed his desire to do battle. He looked at his enemy, stood there with no emotion save for a smile, and said, “Tell me your identity. If it satisfies me, I will cease this chase.”

He had risked his life to pursue this elite fighter into the capital, only to try strike a bargain. The attempt of assassination in the Floating Temple was too strange. Gong Dian not attending to his duties today, which made for the perfect arrangement for an assassination, the appearance and disappearance of the assassin, and the knowledge of the inner-workings of the Qing Kingdom’s management and arrangements, all were curious elements of this event. But these revelations were wretched facts. This assassination was not only influenced by one opposing faction, but someone from inside the Qing Kingdom’s bureaucracy, who must have been in league with the enemy to be able to relay so much intel.

Fan Xian only needed to know how this entire affair had started. He wanted the facts, not petty retaliation against a certain fighter in retribution for the Emperor’s humiliation. He wasn’t a naive royal chancellor. He cared about the connections shared between him, his father and the Overwatch Council to the assassination, most of all.

“Do not talk about integrity.” Fan Xian was still looking down to the floor. “You and I are the same. We both know that promises are meaningless. Give me the information that I need and I will let you go.”

The assassin was silent, but gave a subtle gesture of hesitant agreement. But when Fan Xian thought he was going to accept this win-win solution, the assassin said, “Ah, but there is a problem. You see, I could also kill you now; and that would allow me to leave as well.”

This world was truly wonderful. Fan Xian had strongly rejected the second prince’s proposition for a truce, whereas everyone else thought he should have done otherwise. Now, someone was rejecting him in very much the same way.

By what? The power. (?)

...

A flash of light blazed out from the assassin’s sword, brightly illuminating the alley. The leaves on the floor were picked up and carried between the two opponents by the twirling atmosphere brought on by the power of the sword. The leaves accompanied the rise of the ancient sword, which was now pointed at Fan Xian.

Just like on top of the Floating Temple, the zhenqi in Fan Xian was difficult to keep suppressed and it clotted in his palm. As if he desired to tear the skies apart, he raised his palm and aimed it towards the foe’s face. He unleashed a powerful and condensed gust of wind without batting an eyelid to the longsword that was now bearing down on him.

The wind from the palm was so strong that the swordsman’s hair was blown backwards, the back of his head resembling a shrubbery of thorns.

Fan Xian was not as proficient in the arts of combat as his opponent, so he had to risk his life to make a single move. He knew that the more powerful the assassin was, the prouder and protective of their life they were. For this, he knew that his opponent would believe himself capable of killing Fan Xian with relative ease and was not choosing to risk his life by attacking.

The swordsman, as he anticipated, guided his sword toward Fan Xian’s hand. Then, with unbelievable speed, Fan Xian withdrew his hand and his palm split into two shadows which fisted the enemy’s temple. The fist was quick and relatively simple, but it was insanely powerful.

At this moment, the assassin he was battling with did something Fan Xian could never have predicted.

The swordsman rescinded his artistry with the blade, and opted to discard it.

The longsword disconnected from his hand and went flying towards Fan Xian’s throat. The assassin’s body shrunk strangely, as he managed to evade the stream of fistwind Fan Xian had cast. He then put his hand into his left shoe.

He pulled out a matte-looking dagger.

...

Fan Xian groaned and pulled back his fist and staggered backwards. He used his zhenqi to punch the soul-harvesting sword away. The ancient sword flew backwards like an arrow in the opposite direction and...

Ding!

It powered right through and stuck into the back wall of the alley as straight as its initial flight.

The most shocking thing was that the opponent had pulled out a dagger from his shoes and was attempting to stab Fan Xian at the same time. Fan Xian was all too familiar with this move.

When the swordsman had his ancient sword in hand, he fought fairly with a clear moveset. For all accounts and purposes, the attacks were honorable. So, Fan Xian used his zhenqi to do battle with him. But when the sword had left the assassin’s hand, all honor was gone, and he became a writhing shadow in the autumn wind. His hand was holding a sharp dagger, and it was on its way to strike.

While this situation unfolded in a mere moment, Fan Xian barely had the time or ability to react. His left arm was cut.

All of a sudden, the two black shadows in the alley were tangled in one another. The closed-quarters combat was strange to behold. Despite the movements, there were no sounds to be heard, and it was a spooky sight. It was insidious. In this small area, both of their movements escalated in speed as time went by during the fight. Their arms were thrown against each, and legs were kicking. They fought towards a corner and even climbed against walls in evasion of each other’s strikes. The sounds of punches were repeatedly heard, and it was scary.

If Fan Xian hadn’t been trained by Wu Zhu when he was younger, or if he didn’t receive training from the Overwatch Council for years, he feared that the dagger his foe wielded would have left numerous holes in his body by now. Even if he dodged at a faster rate, the soul-taking dagger was still unfathomably quick, and his body had been nicked more than a few times.

The opponent must have known a lot about the Overwatch Council’s uniform. All of his attacks were aimed at the areas which had the least protection.

What shocked Fan Xian the most was the opponent’s ability to gauge his next move every single time. With this foresight, he was able to deflect or evade every attack Fan Xian attempted. Every time he tried to do something, it was guessed and subsequently eluded. Whenever he spied an opening, however, Fan Xian would follow it up with the attempt of a cheap shot; like the twisting of his enemy’s pinkie; the poking of the eyes; the squeezing of the testicles; and the use of his elbows. All these shameless and dirty moves were still all useless though.

A great light suddenly shone from within Fan Xian’s eyes. The end of the dagger was tied, and it reminded him of Wu Zhu’s staff. He recalled a few words that were once spoken to him. “Straight, cruel and accurate.”

The reason Fan Xian was remembering these things whilst at the risk of dying is because he remembered his own fierce skill, the “Coffin Breaker”. And in the tip of his shoes, he had a concealed blade.

When Fan Xian’s hand loosened, the zhenqi in his body erupted. The sleeves of the Overwatch Council’s uniform he wore were torn to shreds, and his right hand shook violently – tempered by the raging zhenqi. The entire scene was reminiscent of Ye Liuyun’s style, the man from the Danzhou coast. A slapping sound clapped the air.

The assassin, who was like a phantom near his left arm, felt an overwhelming force targeting his face. Fan Xian’s hand was wide, his fingers wide apart like dead branches.

The assassin felt an ache in his chest, and the force sent him flying. He used the tips of his feet to step on Fan Xian’s shoe, which hid a blade and then jumped away.

Fan Xian made a noise. He held his left arm, which had sustained a knife wound. Facing this wretched opponent, only now did he notice that he too was bleeding. Seeing this, his confidence to fight him increased.

But Wu Zhu had yet to arrive.

The assassin raised his elbow and placed a grey dagger directly in front of Fan Xian’s eye and with a weary, breaking voice said, “I learnt this move from you.”

Fan Xian’s face turned dim. Feeling his own energy begin to sap from his exposed wound, he coldly replied, “You are welcome.”

He hadn’t been given enough time to recover, and it was quite apparent that his opponent was able to withstand his wound more than Fan Xian could. Faced with this, Fan Xian did not say another word. He used his fingertips to raise himself up the walls of the alley and as he climbed, he kicked down a few bricks. He then propelled himself through the air like a tiger, pouncing forward.

The assassin took a step back and then leaped, trying to deliver the dagger into Fan Xian’s temple.

Fan Xian’s body was sluggish, and his power turned from cruel to soft. His whole body then spun 180 degrees to bypass the dagger that was heading towards him. In between his right hand, two fingers shone, and they sneakily extended past his neck. In that moment, he was putting a poisonous needle inside the opponent’s hand holding onto the dagger.

What he did not expect, was for the dagger being wielded by the assassin to be an illusion. When the poisonous needle reached its destination, the hand had already been pulled back three inches. When the poisonous needle poked the dagger, the needle was too short and weak to do much of anything.

Then, the assassin used his knee to kick Fan Xian’s back. This pain made Fan Xian turn around, and when he did, he saw the image of the poisonous dagger bearing down towards his chest.

Seeing this dagger, he lost all hope. He did not think his opponent could be so well-prepared. He even expected Fan Xian to prepare three poisonous needles for his final attack.

And Wu Zhu was still gone.

Then, his waist felt heavy. His sigh turned to a scream.

“Aaaaaaaah!”

Between this life-or-death moment, he gathered the greatest of the strength in his body into the snowy mountain that was his back. He channelled his zhenqi into his arms and brought them up to press both sides of the dagger.

When the dagger scraped against his palms, a horrible squeaky sound pierced the air. It was like burning steel roughly carving someone’s foot.

The distance between them was so close, so much so that he could see the pleased smile hidden in the eyes of his opponent.

There is this thing called “misfortune,” and it happened instantaneously. Fan Xian had reached the most critical point of the battle, and the biggest hidden sickness in his body was now unleashed. That is why he released his death scream.

The wild zhenqi was like uncontrollable children, or ferocious and untameable beasts. For what seemed like no reason, it leapt about his veins without stability. The zhenqi gathered up his snowy mountain, as if it were following the events of the fight, and it now reached the top.

It exploded.

In this short period of time, Fan Xian felt a surging pain like he had never experienced before. Every nerve in his body was set-off like an alarm, as if they were being torn apart, and Fan Xian was overwhelmed by soul-shattering pain. The zhenqi inside his body burst out of the veins they ought to have coursed through, and then it was gone. Its presence could no longer be felt.

The zhenqi had disappeared and his palm was now depleted of its power. Out of the silence, a quiet sound was heard. The dagger that was once unable to strike Fan Xian now did; it simply, and perhaps even ridiculously, pierced into his chest.

Fan Xian dropped his arms and as if he could not believe it, watched in bewilderment as a dagger embedded itself in his chest. As it thrust through, all he could now see was a handle.

Even the elite assassin seemed surprise. He just looked at the dagger sticking out of Fan Xian’s chest and didn’t do anything else.

A while later, the pain reached Fan Xian’s brain. And now he realised it was a truly deep strike. He was afraid that his life was to be lost, in the blink of an eye, in a shade-wrapped alley of this other world.

It wasn’t fair. There were still many things he had yet to do. He had not conceived a child; Dream of the Red Chamber had not received its 78th chapter; he still hadn’t been to the palace treasury to look at Ye Qingmei’s work; he still hadn’t taken a peep at the Holy Temple; and he still hadn’t stood in the palace to inform people of his true identity.

But the greatest thought on his mind took the form of a question: Why had the blind guy not arrived yet?

“That was unexpected.”

Surprisingly, the person who said this, aside from Fan Xian, who was thinking about Zhou Xingxing in his past life before his death, was the assassin in front of him, the difference was; Fan Xian said it because it was unfair, and the assassin said it because he did not mean to do that.

The assassin finally let go of his hand which clutched the dagger. Fan Xian’s legs went limp, and he dropped to the ground.

The most elite Tiger Guards of the Emperor finally arrived in the alley. They could not arrive in time to join the fight. They saw a person who looked like an ordinary civilian let go of a dagger which was inside Fan Xian, then turn into a black shadow and disappear behind the back wall of the alley.

And Fan Xian, who had been described as really powerful by the Tiger Guards, was like a man who had become inebriated and had then passed out on the floor of the alley.

“Go after him!” One Tiger Guard called out.

“Split into two groups and save the wounded first!”

The leader of the Tiger Guard, Gao Da, possessed a murderous look that was drowned in depression. He kneeled near Fan Xian, and seeing this young officer who had brought him along when he was an ambassador for the north, his heart was overtaken by nerves and worry.

A while later, a voice sounded in the alley.

“I won’t die.” Fan Xian lay gasping in Gao Da’s arms. Seeing his chest drenched in red, he said, “He did not strike deep enough. But quickly, I implore that you find me a royal doctor. Also, go to the manor and ask my sister to bring along my antidote pills. And please ask the Emperor to bring Fei Jie back to the palace. My life is important.”

After he said this, Fan Xian’s eyes closed and he fell unconscious. Before he fainted, though, he caught sight of a blurry light. He saw the wall the assassin had managed to jump over. This strange scene that he saw following his injury, made him guess the true identity of the assassin. But it was just too complicated and too scary, scary enough for him to remain unconscious than think about.