Before Jiang Zhizhou had finished speaking, he heard something whistle through the air. He could not help saying to Yang Qing, "It seems there really are things one shouldn't say carelessly. Speak of them, and here they come."
With that, he straightened slightly, shielding Yang Qing behind him, and listened intently to the movements outside.
Bu Er, who was driving the carriage, also called to Yang Qing inside, "Young master, hold steady!"
Yang Qing remained seated upright in the carriage. Listening to the incessant whistle of arrows outside, he did not so much as crease his brow.
It was as though all that commotion had nothing whatsoever to do with him.
"Hearing those sharp weapons whistle through the air, I feel as though I'm back at Yan Pass."
Yang Qing's eyes were slightly closed as his thin lips parted. "So it seems these attackers came from the north."
Jiang Zhizhou held an arrow that had come flying toward the curtain, its tail still trembling incessantly.
"And I suspect these arrowheads have been coated with a colorless, odorless poison—a truly deadly weapon that seals the throat the instant it draws blood."
"It seems Northern Liang is very wary of me indeed. They simply don't want me to return safely."
Watching Yang Qing joke about his own predicament, Jiang Zhizhou cut down the ever-increasing barrage of arrows and turned to him. "They say Lord Yang holds heaven and earth within his belly. Seeing you today has certainly opened my eyes."
"But Lord Yang, you are still only flesh and blood. Must you put yourself in such an unfavorable position every single time?"
Yang Qing's half-closed eyes suddenly opened at those words, though a hint of a smile had already touched his lips.
"If they want to play, what harm is there in