Assassin

In early spring, dawn had barely broken. Jincheng Prefecture lay in the northwest, and the chill still seeped from the earth.

At a street corner, two parallel rails had been laid across an old stone-paved road. A public carriage rolled smoothly along them. The rails made the work easier, and two nags pulled a carriage nearly three times their length without the slightest strain. Only white breath puffing from their nostrils betrayed their effort.

Even though these new double-decker carriages carried only respectable passengers, and ordinary folk wouldn't waste the fare on one, respectability came in all ranks. For one extra copper, a passenger could ride in the more respectable lower compartment.

Chen Wu wasn't so respectable. He'd paid the ordinary respectable fare of five copper coins, so he could only sit in the ordinary respectable seats on the roof, crammed together with the other ordinary respectable folk and breathing the dust kicked up from the street.

He couldn't shut out the chill of Jincheng Prefecture's morning air like the more respectable passengers inside the carriage. They sat quietly, spreading open newspapers and reading them closely, pretending to care about the affairs of the world.

Chen Wu could afford that extra copper. He just wasn't in the mood to think about whether he was respectable or not. His mind held only two words.

Kill!

The man he had to kill was Qiao Weisheng, the head proprietor of Zhong'an Bank. Three days from now, the old proprietor Qiao had to die. Otherwise, Chen Wu would be the one to die.

It wasn't that Chen Wu had some blood feud with the old proprietor and had to see him dead. Three days ago, he hadn't even known there was such a person as the old proprietor Qiao. Chen Wu had only arrived in this world three days ago.

As for how he had crossed over, to be honest, Chen Wu didn't know himself.

He only remembered playing a lousy game called Shunhuonuan the night before, a game touted as a next-generation martial arts masterpiece. When he woke the next day, he was in this strange world, with a strange identity: "assassin."

First, the history of this world was strangely familiar yet not. The ruling dynasty was actually the Great Shun Dynasty!

After Great Shun's founding emperor, Li Zicheng, entered Beijing, he had indeed suffered defeat at Yipian Shi and continued losing battles until he died at Nine Palaces Mountain in Xiangyang. As a recent graduate of a top-tier university, Chen Wu was well acquainted with this history.

But then...

Great Shun had actually turned things around!

Li Guo, originally named Duke of Xingguo by the Southern Ming, seemed to have been possessed by some transmigrator predecessor. During the Battle of Jingzhou, he had foreseen the future, completely abandoned his useless Southern Ming allies, and ambushed the Manchu Qing forces as they came to relieve the siege, killing their great general Lekedehun. One battle had reversed the dynasty's decline.

After that, he had retaken Jingzhou, conquered Shanxi, and eventually pacified the whole realm, as if he had cheat codes enabled. The Shun Dynasty had ruled ever since, for more than a hundred and fifty years.

Then, sixty years ago, during the reign of the fifth Great Shun emperor, Li Si, the dynasty had drawn on the accumulated achievements of five generations. Its armies had swept across the northern deserts, conquered the Western Regions, and destroyed the Dzungar Khanate in the Tianshan Mountains. Its fleets had ranged across all four oceans, established the India Protectorate, and driven the nations of Europa into Arabia.

Everything east of Africa's Cape of Good Hope and west of the great river of America lay under the rites and laws of Great Shun. It was hailed as the dynasty's golden age.

Stranger than the history, this world actually had martial arts!

Feeling the lively qi in his dantian and the meridians of his Hand Shaoyang Triple Burner channel, Chen Wu unconsciously assumed the Thousand-Kilogram Drop stance to steady himself against the jolts of the carriage's upper deck.

Come to think of it, Chen Wu had considered using lightness skills to run here. Five copper coins could have bought him a decent meal. But after thinking it over, he decided to conserve his qi. Who knew what might go wrong during the assassination?

There it was!

The sign for Zhong'an Bank's main branch in Jincheng Prefecture came into view in the distance. Chen Wu knew the assassination was about to begin. He'd rehearsed his nerves countless times, but now that the moment had arrived, his heart still lurched.

Though he'd inherited the previous owner's martial arts and some of his memories, three days ago, he hadn't even killed a chicken. Now he had to kill a person.

And he had to do it in front of a crowd!

According to his contact, the employer had paid double for just one requirement. Otherwise, the safest plan would have been to sneak into the Qiao residence at night and give the old master Qiao a funeral he wouldn't wake up from.

"West Gate stop! Passengers, disembark!"

The double-decker carriage slowed to a stop. The driver got down first, then stood meekly beside the door, calling out to alert the passengers that they'd reached the stop.

Chen Wu was nervous, but his face gave nothing away. He stepped down slowly and handed his ticket, bought before boarding, to the conductor waiting by the door.

Then Chen Wu drew a delicate silver pocket watch from his clothes. He pressed its hidden catch, and the spring flipped open the cloud-patterned cover, revealing the clock face and its hands.

A quarter past the hour of the Dragon. Not late!

It was Chen Wu's first time riding this bizarre carriage, and he'd been worried about arriving late. Fortunately, everything had gone smoothly. In his previous life, he'd definitely have given it five stars.

"Newspapers! Newspapers! Northern Tianzhu's textile workers are in revolt; the Protectorate strikes back!"

A newsboy's cry interrupted Chen Wu's thoughts. He stirred, reached out, and stopped the boy.

"Give me a newspaper." Chen Wu paused. "One with news from Tianzhu. The cheapest one!"

"The Jincheng Industry Promotion Gazette. Two copper coins."

Chen Wu nodded, fished out two ten-wen copper coins stamped with the Dezhang reign title, and handed them to the newsboy. He took the newspaper, which reeked of ink.

Don't be fooled by the lofty name, the Jincheng Industry Promotion Gazette. It was really just trading on the fame of the great national paper, the Industry Promotion Daily, attracting readers with gossip and erotic fiction.

The paper was poor quality, and the ink was the cheapest kind, with a pungent smell. Even the slightest touch would stain your fingertips.

But its low price and easy-to-read content had made it a bestseller in Jincheng Prefecture, despite the disdain of the various moralizing scholars. Chen Wu had been in this world for just three days, yet he'd already seen different people carrying copies of the Jincheng Industry Promotion Gazette in all sorts of places.

Chen Wu hadn't bought the newspaper to criticize its vulgar content. He just wanted to use it to conceal his movements. The assassination was still fifteen minutes away. If he stood there gawking and looking around, he'd only draw suspicion.

Chen Wu spread open the paper, carefully pinching its edges. In the very center, in the most prominent spot, a headline blazed: "The Secret History of the False Qing Harem—Legend of Dayu'er."

It was so popular that news of the India Protectorate, which had been invited by a local prince to put down a revolt by northern Tianzhu's spinning workers, had been squeezed into a corner.

While pretending to criticize the vulgar novel by some impoverished scholar, Chen Wu spread out his senses and kept an eye on the carriages approaching Zhong'an Bank.

According to reliable information, the old proprietor Qiao showed up at this Jincheng Prefecture branch punctually at the hour of the Snake every day. He'd done so for over half a month.

Chen Wu couldn't imagine why a man from Jin Province whose business spanned the world was so interested in this branch in Jincheng Prefecture, Gan Province.

The carriage was here!

It was exactly like the one described in the intelligence. As soon as it appeared at the street corner, it headed straight for Zhong'an Bank. At the driver's shout, it came to a steady stop in front of the bank, less than ten meters from Chen Wu.

While pretending to read the paper, Chen Wu had already adjusted his position. Now he was waiting beside Zhong'an Bank's front entrance, like a hare waiting for a stump. He hadn't expected the hare to be so cooperative.

The carriage from the intelligence came to a stop. A few servants opened the door, and Chen Wu's spirits lifted. The real target had arrived.

The qi in Chen Wu's dantian began to seethe, surging through his limbs. His left hand held the newspaper up as cover, while his right slipped into his pocket. He wiped the sweat from his hand on his clothes, then gripped his weapon tightly: a Dezhang Year Two Model revolver.

What age was this? Who still relied on traditional assassination techniques? Within seven paces, a gun was faster and surer.

Besides, Chen Wu had been in this world for less than three days and hadn't had time to get familiar with his martial arts. Asking him to kill with them was a bit much. A six-shot revolver was far more practical.

Using the newspaper to conceal his movements, Chen Wu shifted the gun inside his pocket and waited for the old master Qiao to step out. Then he'd pull the trigger.

The carriage's pitch-black doorway occupied all of Chen Wu's attention. As he breathed, the clamor of the street seemed to fall silent. In less than a second, a figure appeared at the carriage door.

"Bang—"

A loud report rang out.

But it came from Chen Wu's left.

What was going on? Chen Wu's hand trembled, and he nearly dropped the newspaper. Instinctively, he turned toward the sound.

Behind and to Chen Wu's left stood a man dressed like a laborer, in a short jacket with a cloth wrapped around his head. He held a Dezhang Year Two Model identical to Chen Wu's, aimed straight at the carriage. White smoke still curled from its muzzle.

Chen Wu's mind went blank for a moment. Then he realized: Damn, the old proprietor Qiao seemed to have quite a few enemies! Things were complicated. Better lie low for now.

The pedestrians on the street finally reacted, erupting like water poured into hot oil. Those nearby fled in terror, crawling over one another to get away. Those farther off stretched their necks to see where the gunshot had come from.

Chen Wu immediately hunched down and retreated a few steps into Zhong'an Bank's lobby. He had no time to admire the famous hall's decor. Instead, he poked out his head and watched from cover.

"Bang—" The first shot seemed to have missed. Another gunshot rang out. Now Chen Wu could see what the passengers looked like.

There wasn't just one person stepping out, but two.

One was a tall, thin old man wearing a plain cotton shirt beneath a silk-lined padded vest. On his head sat a black, peaked, round hat known as a Six-In-One Unification Cap. Its crown rose high, with a piece of white jade set into the band. His hair and beard were white, though a few black strands remained at his temples. He looked like Qiao Weisheng.

The other was a middle-aged man, sturdily built, whose robe was patched upon patched. The sword in his hand, however, was extravagantly ornate. Its sharkskin scabbard was inlaid with all sorts of gemstones, each one sharply faceted and glittering in the sun. Anyone who knew their jewels could tell the stones had been cut by the finest craftsmen of the Western nations.

He held the scabbard aloft in his left hand and gripped the hilt with his right, shielding Qiao Weisheng. Even with a gun pointed at him, he showed not the slightest fear.

"Bang, bang, bang, bang—" After missing twice, the assassin seemed to panic. He emptied the four remaining lead bullets from the cylinder in one breath.

Qiao Weisheng stood completely still. The middle-aged man, meanwhile, touched his scabbard with an expression of deep regret.

Chen Wu sucked in a sharp breath. The middle-aged man had clearly swung his scabbard at incredible speed, catching all four lead bullets one by one. If Chen Wu hadn't had inner power, he might not have seen the man's movements at all. The only thing he'd have noticed was a blur before his eyes.

What the hell kind of peerless expert was this? Great Shun's revolvers weren't quite like the ones Chen Wu remembered from his previous life. They didn't even use metallic cartridges; their seals were poor, and they lacked stopping power. But they were still guns! Who could assassinate someone when there were brutes who could take on a gun with nothing but their flesh?

For a moment, Chen Wu felt relieved. Thank goodness someone else had taken the hit for him. Otherwise, he'd have charged in and gotten himself killed for nothing.

Like a flintlock musket, the Dezhang Year Two Model revolver had to be loaded before firing: a percussion cap, black powder, and a lead bullet, in that order, had to be packed into the cylinder. Reloading was a huge hassle. Once all six shots were fired, Chen Wu knew the assassin wouldn't have time to reload.

The assassin knew he'd run into a tough opponent. He tossed aside the gun and turned to flee.

The assassin's martial arts seemed decent too. His lightness technique was quite nimble, and in the blink of an eye he was about to vault over the eaves. The middle-aged man didn't move. Chen Wu thought he'd given up the chase.

Unexpectedly, just as the assassin reached the highest point of his leap, a black shadow shot from the middle-aged man's hand like an arrow loosed from a bow, piercing through the air toward the assassin's back with the whistle of a powerful crossbow.

Smack—

The assassin struck an invisible wall and dropped straight from the air, crashing down at the side of the street. Only then did Qiao Weisheng's servants seem to react. They surged forward one after another, rushing to seize the assassin.

Chen Wu watched, his eyelids twitching. The black shadow from a moment ago had been none other than the middle-aged man's scabbard.

The man hadn't even seemed to move, yet the scabbard had flown away from the sword as if it were alive, striking down the assassin. If it hadn't failed to fly back, Chen Wu might have thought he'd crossed over into a world of immortal cultivation.

At that moment, most of the servants were trying to capture the assassin. Only the middle-aged man remained beside the old master Qiao. But to Chen Wu, it was as though a thousand troops stood between the man and Qiao Weisheng.

A question of the soul surfaced in Chen Wu's mind: Should I still go through with this assassination?

To be or not to be—that was the question.