Thud.
Yang Ge jumped into the Road Pavilion Post Station, crouching low as he warily surveyed his surroundings for a moment.
Once he was certain the patrolling Imperial Guards had not spotted him, he lowered himself and crept along the courtyard wall toward the courtyard where that damned eunuch was staying, like a great black rat.
The weather was excellent that night.
There were clouds, wind, and moonlight.
They helped conceal him without leaving him completely unable to see his way.
With the martial adventurers no longer noisily calling their friends over and exchanging drinks, the town was quiet, too.
Every rustle in his surroundings reached Yang Ge's ears clearly.
This was his only chance.
Tonight, most of the government personnel in town, including the eight hundred Imperial Guards serving as the Imperial Envoy's ceremonial escort, had been stationed at the town gates and the entrances to its wards and markets, to prevent the martial adventurers attending the Heroes' Assembly from getting hotheaded and gathering to cause trouble...
If he could not get it done this time, there would be even less hope once those Imperial Guards returned.
As he made his way through the darkness, a piece of broken tile suddenly fell in front of him.
He looked up, then abruptly sprang backward. The Floating Shadow Blade flashed out of its sheath at his waist, and he unleashed Battlefield of Eight Directions, sweeping it around his head in a seamless blend of attack and defense.
Clink.
At that single, clear ring, Yang Ge felt a razor-sharp force rush toward his face.
He hastily tilted his head. A sweet whistling sound swept past his ear and struck the wall behind him with a crack, sending stone chips and dust flying.
Had he not dodged in time, he would have been