Assassin

Gu Shenwei recognized the banner.

It was two years ago, when the entire Gu family, dozens of people, left the Central Plains and were crossing the desert towards the unknown Western Regions. They had hired many helpers along the way, and one of them carried a Golden Peng banner. He wasn't a guide, yet he always walked at the front of the group. He wasn't a servant either, doing no chores, always keeping a respectful distance from his employers. The stable hands and servants were somewhat afraid of him.

The journey to the Western Regions was dull and boring, but there was one thing Gu Shenwei remembered clearly: during their nearly month-long journey, they had not encountered any bandit attacks. It seemed to confirm Old Master Gu Lun's assessment of the situation in the Western Regions, but in reality, it was due to the protection of Golden Peng Fortress.

Golden Peng Fortress had once been the Gu family's protector, which only deepened Gu Shenwei's confusion: why had the protector become the butcher two years later? He even began to suspect that the bandit Flying Eagle might have made a mistake.

The two men holding the banner stopped where they were. The black-clothed rider approached alone. He stopped about ten paces from Long Feidu, dismounted, and calmly put down the longbow in his hand, as if he were about to greet an old friend he had met by chance.

"It is a rare guest indeed, a Snow Mountain Swordsman visiting the territory of Golden Peng Fortress."

"Heh, it's also quite rare for a Golden Peng Fortress assassin to dare to fight alone."

"I have no choice, but I did learn a few days of combat techniques, after all."

"I am Long Feidu of Great Snow Mountain."

Long Feidu held his sword with both hands, the tip still pointing diagonally at the ground.

"I have long admired you. I am just an unknown nobody from Golden Peng Fortress, not worth mentioning."

The black-clothed assassin drew his saber. Unlike the curved sabers commonly used by bandits, the saber in his hand was straight and narrow, its blade no more than two feet long. Compared to Long Feidu's greatsword, it looked like a needle for embroidery.

As the two men drew closer, the onlookers held their breath, awaiting the blow that would decide life or death.

Gu Shenwei's heart was even more anxious, hoping for the Snow Mountain Swordsman's victory. He had already decided that no matter how Long Feidu treated the two youths beside him later, he would not interfere again.

The assassin and the swordsman approached within three paces of each other, yet neither made a move. Within one pace, still no move. The two stared at each other, like acquaintances about to pass by, merely nodding in greeting.

Gu Shenwei's heart was in his throat. He had witnessed many martial arts duels and even participated in a few himself. The two sides would always take a stance from a distance, constantly changing their moves as they approached, yet no one had ever been as casual as these two, without even a hint of killing intent.

The assassin and the swordsman were now shoulder to shoulder, less than a step apart. They were only half a step away from passing each other. They still turned their heads to stare at each other. Suddenly, their killing intent erupted, transforming from nothing to overwhelming aggression in an instant. The short saber and the long sword struck simultaneously.

Even though they were prepared, even though they had been watching intently, the onlookers were still startled, instinctively leaning back as if the distant sword and saber were aimed at their vital points.

The saber and sword struck as fast as lightning, but they did not clash. The black-clothed assassin retreated faster than he attacked. In the blink of an eye, he had retreated more than five paces, just at the edge of the longsword's range.

Long Feidu did not let his sword move age and also timely retracted his stance.

The first move seemed to be a draw. Gu Shenwei felt that the Snow Mountain Swordsman was stronger, but he wasn't entirely sure. He remembered a saying his father, Gu Lun, had once uttered.

Gu Lun had always been very lenient with his youngest son, never forcing him to train too hard. But one time, when Gu Shenwei was again commenting on someone else's martial arts, Gu Lun became unusually serious. He pointed to his eyes, then to his hands, and said:

"Having good eyesight is much harder than having strong hands."

Gu Shenwei had dismissed the saying at the time, but now he believed it.

Long Feidu had killed six desperate outlaws in a few moves. Golden Peng Fortress's assassin had silently slaughtered dozens of people from the Gu family. Even if the black-clothed assassin before him was not the perpetrator, his skill could not be far off. Both were masters of their craft, yet in their life-and-death struggle, their moves were so simple they were almost crude. It was merely a chop and a thrust, similar in essence to the unchanging thrust of Old Servant Yang Zheng's long spear.

On the other hand, Gu Shenwei himself had learned several sets of fist and saber techniques. He could speak eloquently about the various martial arts schools in the Central Plains, yet he was powerless against the most ordinary bandits.

"Showy but impractical," was his father Gu Lun's amused and shaking-head assessment of him.

The assassin and the swordsman clashed again. This time, they did not approach slowly but leaped like fully charged arrows, like tensed leopards. They sprang up and were there in an instant. Saber and sword collided, emitting a piercing grinding sound.

The black-clothed assassin retreated first again, and even further, to more than ten paces away, his expression tense, as if every hair on his body was standing on end.

Long Feidu swung his longsword once more, taking a large step forward.

Gu Shenwei's heart stirred, thinking the Snow Mountain Swordsman was about to pursue his opponent and deliver a fatal blow, but he was wrong. Long Feidu stopped after just one step, and both sides fell into a stalemate.

The two stood locked in a confrontation like statues for a long time, leaving the surrounding audience confused. No one dared to cheer prematurely, for a wrong choice could lead to death.

"Mercy Powder, I should have thought of it sooner." Long Feidu suddenly knelt on one leg, his hands still gripping the sword hilt, but it was no longer a weapon of death, merely a support.

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

"You swordsmen are always like this, 'should have thought of it sooner,' yet unprepared. Hmph." The black-clothed assassin's tone was full of disdain, showing no mercy to his defeated opponent.

"Mercy Powder is colorless and odorless. Those who take it become weak and powerless, causing great harm. Fifteen years ago, Unrivaled King swore to destroy it all and never use it again. Now that it has reappeared, it seems Golden Peng Fortress is still the same as before, untrustworthy."

"Heh heh, it seems you know quite a bit, but you're mistaken. This is not Mercy Powder, so the King's oath has not been broken, and Golden Peng Fortress is still trustworthy. Especially the fact that Golden Peng Fortress never leaves survivors, you must believe that."

As the black-clothed assassin spoke, he walked behind Long Feidu, pressing the sharp tip of his saber against the swordsman's shoulder blade.

Is this it? Gu Shenwei couldn't believe it. He desperately hoped Long Feidu would fight back, but this was just a young man's wishful thinking. Good people should defeat bad people, and justice should triumph over conspiracy. The Snow Mountain Swordsman had also "thought of it sooner." Too many "shoulds" never become reality.

The black-clothed assassin's narrow saber slowly slid in, all the way to the hilt. Long Feidu offered no resistance and died calmly. Only his corpse remained kneeling, propped up by his sword, not far from the six bandits who lay dead by his sword.

The black-clothed assassin, holding his still-dripping narrow saber, turned to look at the dozens of bandits.

He had killed a true swordsman with despicable means, yet he was still the victor. So, even though everyone knew that rushing him together might kill him, all the bandits, no matter how arrogant they were when robbing people and livestock, now acted like lambs facing a fierce dog – trembling, heads bowed.

The assassin's gaze was contemptuous. He wiped the blood from his saber on Long Feidu's body, sheathed it, and slowly walked back to his horse. After a moment of thought, he said coldly:

"Leave immediately after finishing the business. No one is allowed to linger."

The bandits nodded in unison as if granted a great pardon.

The Snow Mountain Swordsman was disappointing, and the bandits were even more contemptible. The glimmer of hope for revenge had just appeared and then faded again.

Gu Shenwei couldn't figure out how he could defeat the enemies of Golden Peng Fortress. He had originally thought that by mastering the Hehe Jin Rapid Cultivation Method, he could go and challenge them and kill them all. Now he realized that things were far from that simple.

But he understood one thing: his father, his master Yang Zheng, and his two elder brothers were not without the ability to fight back. They, like Long Feidu, had been ambushed.

The black-clothed assassin urged his horse forward, turned east at the intersection, and entered Golden Peng Fortress's territory. Behind him, the two men carrying the banners followed closely, like two lionesses trailing a male lion that had just defeated an intruder. The onlookers west of the intersection were merely a group of cowering wild dogs.

"Leave immediately after finishing the business." Gu Shenwei soon understood the meaning of this sentence and realized that he too had become merchandise.

Not long after the Golden Peng Fortress assassins passed, a caravan emerged from a northern mountain pass. They formed a long line, some on horseback, others in carts, with varied attire, numbering several hundred people in total.

Merchants and bandits, clearly distinct and often opposing groups, had reached a tacit understanding of peace on this road. Both sides were waiting for each other. The bandits brought out their stolen goods and people, like new apprentices trying to sell their wares to passing merchants. Most of these items, they themselves couldn't name.

Merchants enjoyed this kind of trade. Not only were the prices cheap, but if they were lucky, they could acquire a rare treasure of unknown origin from ignorant bandits. Most importantly, the crossroads were safe. Even the most vicious bandits had to suppress their inner urges and dared not lay a finger on merchants carrying gold and silver.

Merchants had already paid the price for this. They paid protection fees to the Western Regions' greatest "bandits," the Golden Peng Fortress, in exchange for the privilege of not being harassed by small groups of bandits.

The trade was proceeding with great fervor, and the bloody scent of seven corpses was instantly washed away. People came and went. Gu Shenwei, looking through the crowd, saw the Snow Mountain Swordsman not far away again. The corpses had already fallen, the long swords were gone, and several bodies had clearly been thoroughly searched.

Gu Shenwei was filled with emotion and confusion. The two youths in front of him, however, didn't have many thoughts. They had just escaped a brush with death. Their "savior" turned out to be an assassin from the Golden Peng Fortress. Now they had to save themselves.

The two opened their mouths to bite at the ropes binding them. The captives to their left and right froze for a moment, then understood. This group of people was now free. Their "masters"—six bandits from the Flying Eagle Gang—were dead.

However, at this crossroads dominated by bandits and merchants, "masters" were clearly not a rare commodity. Before the captives had even bitten through their ropes, several merchants arrived. Without a word, they ordered their servants to cut the ropes, preparing to take possession of this "cargo."

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

"I'm not a slave!"

Gu Shenwei yelled at the approaching bearded man. The two youths in front also shouted in another language. Regardless of the language, their cries only drew hearty laughter.

The bearded man put away the short knife he used for cutting ropes and grabbed Gu Shenwei's arm, intending to take him to a cart. Gu Shenwei, full of rage with nowhere to vent, gathered all his strength and kicked the bearded man.

Although Gu Shenwei was young and his martial arts not yet perfected, the force of his kick was considerable. The bearded man cried out in pain, then, enraged, retaliated with a punch to Gu Shenwei's abdomen.

This punch was even stronger than Gu Shenwei's kick. Gu Shenwei had already prepared a counter-move, but before he could execute it, he stumbled back from the blow. The bearded man's attack was far more brutal than that of the Gu Family's guards.

The bearded man was about to strike again when a merchant spoke sternly, likely telling him not to kill the slave, as it was newly "purchased" cargo.

The bearded man, still resentful from being kicked, deliberately slammed the youth's head against the wooden bars when opening the cage cart's door. Gu Shenwei felt a wave of dizziness and was thrown inside.

There was a living person where he landed. The person screamed and kicked Gu Shenwei away. Gu Shenwei rolled to the side and took a while to regain consciousness. He found that the caravan had already set off again, heading east, following the trail of the Golden Peng banner.

The cage carts were not just one; there was a whole string behind. The carts were pulled by sturdy oxen with large, curved horns. Many fierce-looking Hu people rode on both sides of the caravan.

Gu Shenwei looked back into the cage cart. Inside, more than a dozen children were curled up in a pile of weeds, staring at him with the frightened eyes of small animals. He didn't know which one had been crushed by him earlier.

The hope of reaching Great Snow Mountain was dashed. Gu Shenwei could only return to his original path of hope. He reached into his bosom to touch the White Silk, wanting to check if it contained the characters he most wished to see.

The White Silk was gone.

Gu Shenwei's mind buzzed. He patted himself all over. The White Silk was indeed gone. It was nowhere to be found in the piles of grass in front, behind, to the left, or to the right.