The Assassin

Gu Shenwei recognized that banner.

Two years ago, when the entire Gu Family—several dozen people—had left the Central Plains and was crossing the desert for the unknown Western Regions, they had hired many laborers along the way. One of them carried the Golden Peng Banner. He was not the guide, yet he always walked at the very front of the group. Nor was he a servant; he did none of the odd jobs and always kept a neither-close-nor-distant relationship with his employers. The drivers and laborers were all somewhat afraid of him.

The journey to the Western Regions had been dreary and dull, but there was one thing Gu Shenwei remembered with absolute clarity: during nearly a month on the road, they had not encountered a single bandit attack. It seemed to confirm Master Gu Lun's judgment of the situation in the Western Regions, but in truth, it was because of the protection of Golden Peng Fortress.

Golden Peng Fortress had once been the Gu Family's protector, which only deepened Gu Shenwei's doubts. Why had the protector become a butcher two years later? He had even begun to wonder whether Flying Eagle, the bandit, had made a mistake.

The two banner bearers remained where they were. The black-clad rider advanced alone. When he was a dozen paces from Long Feidu, he stopped, swung down from his horse, and set aside the longbow in his hand. Unhurried, he looked as though he were about to exchange greetings with an old friend he had happened to meet.

"Snow Mountain Swordsman visiting Golden Peng Fortress territory? What a rare guest."

"Ha! A Golden Peng Fortress Killer daring to fight alone is just as rare."

"I had no choice. Still, I did learn a few days' worth of fighting techniques."

"I am Long Feidu, the Dragon of the Great Snow Mountain."

Long Feidu gripped his sword in both hands, the tip still pointing diagonally toward the ground.

"I've long admired you. I'm merely an unknown nobody from Golden Peng Fortress, not worth mentioning."

The black-clad killer drew his saber. Unlike the curved blades commonly used by the bandits, the weapon in his hand was straight and narrow, its blade no more than two feet long. Compared with Long Feidu's greatsword, it looked like an embroidery needle.

The two drew closer and closer. The onlookers held their breath, waiting for the strike that would decide life and death.

Gu Shenwei was even more uneasy. He hoped for the Snow Mountain Swordsman's victory and had already made up his mind that, no matter how Long Feidu treated the two youths beside him later, he would not interfere again.

The killer and the swordsman came within three paces of each other, yet neither attacked. Within one pace, they still did not move. They stared at each other like familiar acquaintances about to pass by, merely nodding in acknowledgment.

Gu Shenwei's heart, however, had risen into his throat. He had witnessed many martial contests and had even taken part in several himself. The opponents always assumed their stances from far away, constantly changing their moves as they approached. No one had ever been as casual as these two, without even the slightest trace of murderous intent.

The killer and the swordsman were already shoulder to shoulder, separated by less than a pace. Half a step more and they would pass each other. They still turned their heads to stare at one another. Then murderous intent suddenly erupted in full force—going from nothing to overwhelming in a single instant—and the short saber and greatsword struck at once.

Even though they had been prepared, even though they had watched with their own eyes, the onlookers were still startled. Their bodies involuntarily leaned back, as if the blades clashing in the distance were aimed at their own vital points.

The saber and sword struck as fast as lightning, yet did not meet. The black-clad killer retreated even faster than he had attacked. In the blink of an eye, he had withdrawn more than five paces, stopping precisely at the edge of the greatsword's range.

Before his sword move lost its force, Long Feidu promptly withdrew his blade as well.

The first exchange seemed inconclusive. Gu Shenwei felt that the Snow Mountain Swordsman was stronger, but he was not entirely certain, because he remembered something his father, Gu Lun, had once said.

Gu Lun had always indulged his youngest son and had never forced him to train hard. But once, when Gu Shenwei had again been passing judgment on someone else's martial arts, Gu Lun had unexpectedly grown serious. He pointed at his own eyes, then at his hands, and said:

"A pair of discerning eyes is far rarer than a pair of powerful hands."

Gu Shenwei had thought little of those words at the time, but now he believed them.

Long Feidu had killed six desperate men in just a few moves, while the Golden Peng Fortress Killer had silently slaughtered dozens of people throughout the Gu Family. Even if the black-clad killer before him was not the actual culprit, his skill could not be far inferior. Both were genuine experts, yet when fighting for their lives, their techniques were plain to the point of simplicity: one slash and one thrust, much like old retainer Yang Zheng's unchanging spear thrust, which had the same marvelous effect by different means.

Gu Shenwei, on the other hand, had learned several sets of fist and saber techniques. He could speak with great authority about the countless martial arts schools of the Central Plains, yet he had been powerless to resist the most ordinary bandits.

"Flashy but impractical." That was the verdict his father, Gu Lun, had given him with a smile and a shake of his head.

The killer and the swordsman clashed again. This time, they did not approach slowly. Like sharp arrows drawn taut with force, like leopards coiling their muscles, they leaped and arrived in an instant. The saber and sword collided with a grating, ear-piercing screech.

Again, the black-clad killer retreated first, and this time he withdrew even farther, until he was more than ten paces away. His expression was tense, as though every hair on his body had sprung upright.

Long Feidu swung his greatsword once more and took a large step forward.

Gu Shenwei's heart stirred. He thought the Snow Mountain Swordsman was about to pursue his opponent and deliver a lethal blow. But he was wrong. Long Feidu stopped after that single step, and the two sides fell into a stalemate.

The two stood facing each other like statues for a long time, leaving the surrounding spectators baffled. No one dared cheer rashly. If they backed the wrong side, they could bring death upon themselves.

"Mercy Powder. I should have thought of it sooner." Long Feidu suddenly dropped to one knee. Both hands still gripped the sword hilt, but the sword was no longer a weapon for killing. It had become merely a support.

Gu Shenwei did not know what "Mercy Powder" was, and he was not the only one ignorant of it. But everyone understood one thing: the Snow Mountain Swordsman had been ambushed.

"You swordsmen are always like this. 'I should have thought of it sooner'—which means you weren't prepared. Hmph." The black-clad killer's voice was filled with contempt. He showed not the slightest pity for his defeated opponent.

"Mercy Powder is colorless and odorless. Anyone who inhales it becomes weak and powerless, and it does great harm. Fifteen years ago, the Unrivaled King swore to destroy every last bit of it and never use it again. Now that it has appeared once more, it seems Golden Peng Fortress is just as untrustworthy as before."

"Heh heh. It seems you know quite a lot. But you're wrong. This isn't Mercy Powder, so the King Lord's oath hasn't been broken, and Golden Peng Fortress is still trustworthy. Especially when it comes to never leaving survivors—you must believe that."

As he spoke, the black-clad killer walked behind Long Feidu. The sharp tip of his saber pressed against the swordsman's shoulder socket.

Was that really all? Gu Shenwei could not believe it. He desperately hoped Long Feidu would rise and counterattack, but that was only a boy's wishful thinking. Good people were supposed to defeat bad people; honor and fairness were supposed to overcome schemes and trickery. The Snow Mountain Swordsman had also "should have thought of it sooner." Too many things that should happen never became reality.

The black-clad killer slowly drove his Narrow Saber in, all the way to the hilt. Long Feidu offered no resistance and died without a ripple. Only his corpse continued kneeling upright, propped against the sword. Not far away lay the six bandits who had died beneath his blade.

The black-clad killer held the Narrow Saber, still dripping with blood, and turned to look at the dozens of bandits.

He had killed a true swordsman by despicable means, yet he was still the victor. Everyone knew that if they swarmed him, they might well kill him, but all the bandits—no matter how brazenly they had acted while seizing people and livestock—now resembled lambs before a vicious dog. They trembled in fear, lowering their brows and making themselves meek.

With a contemptuous look, the killer wiped the blood from his blade on Long Feidu's body, sheathed it, and walked slowly back to his horse. He mounted, pondered for a moment, and said coldly:

"Finish the business and leave at once. No one is to linger."

The bandits acted as though pardoned, nodding repeatedly in agreement.

The Snow Mountain Swordsman had disappointed them, and the bandits were even more contemptible. The first glimmer of hope for revenge had barely appeared before fading again.

Gu Shenwei could not imagine how he could defeat the enemies from Golden Peng Fortress. He had originally believed that once he mastered the Hehe Jin Rapid Cultivation Method, he could challenge the killers at their gates and wipe them all out. Only now did he realize that things were far from so simple.

But he understood one thing: his father, Master Yang Zheng, and his two elder brothers had not been completely helpless. They, too, had been ambushed like Long Feidu.

The black-clad killer urged his horse forward and turned east at the crossroads, entering Golden Peng Fortress territory. Behind him, the two banner bearers followed close on his heels, like two lionesses trailing a male lion that had just defeated an invader. The watchers west of the crossroads were nothing more than a pack of cowering, skulking mongrel dogs.

"Finish the business and leave at once." Gu Shenwei soon understood what those words meant—and discovered that he had become merchandise as well.

Not long after the Golden Peng Fortress Killer passed through, a caravan came from the mountain pass in the north. It formed a long procession, with some people on horseback and others driving wagons. Their clothing varied wildly, and the disorderly group numbered several hundred.

Merchants and bandits were clearly distinct and usually opposed groups, but on this road they had reached a tacit peace. Both sides waited for each other. The bandits brought out the goods and people they had seized and hawked them to passing merchants like inexperienced young shop assistants. They could not even name most of the objects themselves.

The merchants liked this kind of trade. Not only were the prices cheap, but with good luck, they might even buy some priceless treasure of unknown origin from bandits who did not recognize its value. Most importantly, the crossroads were safe. Even the most vicious bandits had to suppress their impulses and did not dare lay a finger on merchants carrying gold and silver.

The merchants had already paid for this privilege. They had paid protection money to Golden Peng Fortress, the greatest "bandit" in the Western Regions, in exchange for immunity from harassment by smaller bands of thieves.

The trading proceeded in full swing. The stench of the seven corpses' blood was swept away in an instant. People came and went, and when Gu Shenwei glimpsed the Snow Mountain Swordsman again through the crowd, not far away, the corpse had already fallen. The greatsword was gone, and several bodies had clearly been stripped clean.

Gu Shenwei was filled with bewilderment and emotion, but the two youths ahead of him had no such thoughts. They had just escaped one calamity, and their "savior" had turned out to be a killer from Golden Peng Fortress. Now they had to save themselves.

The two youths bent down to bite through the ropes around their hands. The captives on either side stared for a moment, then all understood: the entire chain of prisoners was free. Their "masters"—the six bandits of Flying Eagle Gang—had become corpses.

Yet at this crossroads ruled by bandits and merchants, "masters" were evidently nothing rare. Before the captives had bitten through their ropes, several merchants came over and, without a word, ordered their servants to cut the bonds, preparing to take possession of this group of "goods."

Some people obediently followed their new "masters," while others tried to explain themselves to the merchants.

"I'm not a slave!"

Gu Shenwei shouted at the large-bearded man running toward him. The two youths ahead of him shouted in another language as well, but no matter which language they used, the response was roaring laughter.

The large-bearded man put away his short knife for cutting ropes, grabbed one of Gu Shenwei's arms, and tried to pull him onto a wagon. Gu Shenwei's anger had nowhere to go, so he gathered all his strength and kicked the large-bearded man.

Gu Shenwei was still young, and his martial arts were far from polished, but the kick still carried considerable force. The large-bearded man cried out in pain, then, enraged and humiliated, swung back and punched Gu Shenwei hard in the lower abdomen.

The punch carried even more force than Gu Shenwei's kick. Gu Shenwei had already thought of a move to counter it, but before he could use it, the blow sent him staggering. The large-bearded man struck much more viciously than the Gu Family's guards.

The large-bearded man was about to hit him again when a merchant barked several words. The gist was that he must not kill the slave, because the boy was merchandise he had just "bought."

Still resentful over being kicked, the large-bearded man deliberately slammed the boy's head against the wooden bars when he opened the cage wagon. Gu Shenwei's head spun with dizziness, and he was thrown inside.

There was another living person where he landed. That person let out a shriek and kicked Gu Shenwei away. Gu Shenwei rolled aside and only regained consciousness after quite some time, discovering that the caravan had set off again, heading east along the trail of the Golden Peng Banner.

There was more than one cage wagon; a whole string of them followed behind. Great, double-horned oxen pulled the wagons, while many grim-faced Hu riders escorted both sides of the caravan.

Gu Shenwei looked back into the cage. More than a dozen children were huddled in the weeds, staring at him with the fearful, uneasy eyes of small beasts. He had no idea which one had been beneath him just now.

His hope of joining the Great Snow Mountain had been shattered. Gu Shenwei could only return to the path of his original hope. He reached into his clothes for the White Silk, wanting to check whether it bore the words he most longed to see.

The White Silk was gone.

A buzzing sound exploded in Gu Shenwei's head. He felt over his entire body, but the White Silk was truly gone. Nor could he find any trace of it in the piles of weeds around him.