Chapter 050
Chapter 50: Ambush in the Storm
“Lord Song, tell me, how extraordinary can this prince be, a boy who’s spent fifteen years stranded in some remote little city?”
Zhang He narrowed his eyes, awaiting an answer. Song Shan Yue frowned deeply, pondering for a moment before shaking his head.
“It’s hard to say.”
Seeing this reaction, Zhang He laughed dismissively.
“Perhaps Lord Song is overthinking things. How remarkable can a twenty-year-old brat possibly be? Could he be an Innate Expert? A Martial Master? A Great Grandmaster? Surely not someone from the Heavenly Union?”
Zhang He straightened his robes casually as he continued.
“It’s normal for Lord Song to be cautious, but don’t jump at shadows. Besides… Lord Song might not know this, but we aren’t the only ones who wish to see this prince dead!”
At these words, Song Shan Yue raised his eyes to regard the arrogant young master before him. Zhang He continued with a wicked smirk.
“Too many people despise the Great Li Court. We’re not alone in seeing this as a perfect opportunity. The news of the true and false princes has spread throughout the Martial World. Countless eyes now watch the Great Li Imperial Capital. Imagine the relief if someone were to sever that real prince’s head and hang it high atop Shang Yang City’s walls!”
“Even if Emperor Yuan Wu isn’t heartbroken, he’ll probably be furious enough to spit blood. Haha!”
Zhang He burst into laughter, clearly thrilled just imagining such a scene.
Song Shan Yue remained silent, waiting until Zhang He’s laughter faded before replying calmly.
“The prince is already heading to the Heavenly Brocade Guard headquarters accompanied by Sun Chang Yu. I can’t promise we’ll kill him, nor can I guarantee that I’ll do it myself.”
Instantly, the young man’s frivolous expression turned icy cold.
“This opportunity is rare, Lord Song. Even if you don’t care for yourself, think about your son. You must do everything in your power. Also, Lord Song needs to understand one thing clearly—I care only about results, not the methods.”
At that moment, distant thunder rumbled overhead. Zhang He glanced out through the carved wooden lattice window, a dark smile twisting his lips.
“It’s about to rain. What perfect weather for murder. Hurry now, Lord Song.”
With that, Zhang He cradled his head lazily and pushed open the door, cursing loudly about visiting his maternal uncle, the Vice Minister of Revenue.
Song Shan Yue watched his retreating figure with gloomy eyes. He struck the desk behind him sharply, and in an instant, the desk silently shattered into fine dust. Soon afterward, the entire hall fell eerily silent, emptied completely.
…
Clouds gathered thick and dark over the Imperial Capital, cloaking it like a vast, ink-black curtain. Li Mu Sheng’s carriage rolled swiftly through streets now nearly devoid of passersby.
A bolt of lightning split the darkened sky like a sword, illuminating the empty street in ghostly white. Thunder followed instantly, shaking the very heavens. Rain began pattering violently on the carriage’s roof, quickly turning into a roaring deluge. The remaining people scattered, fleeing under shop awnings to escape the storm.
The downpour came as if a heavenly river had burst its banks, pouring in torrents and driven sideways by fierce winds. Shop banners fluttered wildly.
Inside the swiftly moving carriage, Li Mu Sheng sat quietly, bored. Wheels splashed through puddles, spraying sheets of water. The lively street had become lifeless beneath the raging storm, filled only with rain and thunder.
As the carriage turned into a quieter, narrower alley, the old eunuch Sun Chang Yu, previously resting with closed eyes, suddenly opened them wide.
He turned sharply towards Li Mu Sheng, who appeared unaware, and spoke gravely, “Murderous intent.”
Without hesitation, Sun Chang Yu flashed like a red swallow through the window. Instantly, he spun through the rain and lightly landed atop the horse at the carriage front.
The coachman, seeing this, immediately tightened the reins, stopping the galloping horses abruptly. With practiced speed, he reached beneath the seat, drawing out a long blade wrapped in oilcloth.
He flicked his wrist, sending the cloth scattering. Firmly gripping the sword’s hilt, he leaped upright, the blade’s chilling edge flashing with fierce readiness. The entire action flowed effortlessly, ingrained into his very bones.
Rain hammered the rooftops and the stone-paved street, raising a thick mist. Eunuch Sun and the coachman stood unmoving, their Qi gently radiating outward, pushing the raindrops aside. Not a single droplet touched their robes.
Just then, a solitary figure appeared, slowly advancing down the street amidst the torrential rain. Wearing a bamboo hat and straw cloak, the old man tapped his bamboo staff rhythmically against the stones, the sound distinct amidst the storm.
Behind the carriage, two swordsmen in blue robes galloped forward, hooves splashing wildly until they halted abruptly mere yards away, horses neighing sharply.
“Whoosh! Whoosh!”
Two black-masked figures suddenly leaped from behind nearby buildings, soaring through the downpour to land silently upon the rooftops.
…
“Five of them,” the coachman rasped. “Each a Great Martial Grandmaster.”
Sun Chang Yu’s expression darkened like a storm cloud. Standing upright on the horse’s back, he swept a sharp gaze over the five opponents and called out coldly:
“This is the Great Li Imperial Capital! I urge you to retreat quickly and spare yourselves from death!”
His voice, piercingly cold, carried clearly through the rain-soaked street. Simultaneously, icy Qi surged forth, driving rain in powerful waves toward the assassins.
Yet, the five stood firm, unaffected. The fierce Qi dissipated harmlessly before reaching them.
“No rush,” the cloaked old man spoke hoarsely, raising his spotted, weathered face. “Before you die, I should let you know whose hands claim your lives. That way, my half-month journey, weathering wind and rain, will not have been in vain.”
His words seemed to gain quiet acknowledgment from the others. The masked men on the roofs remained silent, nodding subtly. One of the blue-robed swordsmen laughed openly.
“Killing the dog emperor’s son right here in the Imperial Capital—such a feat would resound through the Martial World! It would be a waste not to leave our names behind.”
Immediately, the other swordsman spoke coldly, clearly and solemnly:
“Remember, your executioners are the West Wind Duo!”