The Mad Dog in a Wheelchair Draws His Blade Against the Guards-Is Gu Moli in Mortal Danger?
Thirty guards carrying torches followed him through the garden and headed straight for the backyard.
The further they went in, the more strange the commotion became.
The sound of the crossbow bolts stopped, but the air was filled with the smell of bitter almonds.
Mei Boqian's facial muscles twitched.
He's familiar with this flavor too.
Poisoned arrowheads.
He quickened his pace and rushed to the gate of Fallen Plum Studio.
The courtyard gate was ajar.
Mei Boqian kicked it away.
The courtyard gate slammed against the wall, bounced back half a foot, and he blocked it with his hand.
The torchlight shone into the courtyard.
He saw it.
Eight crossbowmen dressed in black short-sleeved shirts crouched at the four corners of the courtyard wall, each holding a standard repeating crossbow with a second volley of arrows still stuck in the crossbow arm.
Two people were lying on the roof of the woodshed, their crossbows pointing downwards, aimed at the doors and windows of the main room of Fallen Plum Studio.
Ten men, ten crossbows—all standard equipment prohibited by civilian use.
And right in the middle of these ten crossbowmen.
A wheelchair.
Mei Zhongjun sat in a wheelchair, clutching a three-inch dagger in his hand. The firelight reflected off the blade, and the expression on his face flickered in and out of focus in the torchlight.
This scene made Mei Boqian's blood rush to his head.
He's not stupid.
Ten military crossbows and ten well-trained assassins are attacking the guest rooms of their own mansion.
His "useless" younger brother was sitting upright among the group of assassins, like a general giving orders.
He remembered the anonymous letter he had suddenly received on the way.
The letter said that the second brother had been faking his lameness to deceive himself.
How dare he?!
"Second brother!"
Mei Boqian's voice cracked.
"Where did you get that repeating crossbow?!"
His eyes were so red they looked like they were about to bleed, and he pointed his knife forward.
"How many assassins have you been secretly keeping?!"
The fire in my chest had already ignited.
The claim that he had been lame for seven years is false.
The wheelchair, the jujube tree falling, the doctor's diagnosis—it was all a lie.
This useless younger brother, whom he had ignored for seven years, was secretly raising assassins, hiding crossbows, and operating spies.
This is no ordinary case of the second young master of a mansion secretly practicing martial arts in the inner quarters just to survive.
This is rebellion!
This is an attempt to seize his military power, take away the foundation of the Marquis's mansion, and strip him of the crown of the heir apparent!
"Take it down!"
Mei Boqian swung his sword forward, and all thirty of his guards drew their swords at the same time.
The guards rushed into the courtyard.
Before the crossbowmen could turn their crossbows around, the two at the front were cut down by the guards with a single blow. The crossbows fell to the ground, the arrows went off, and with a whoosh, they shot into the cracks in the artificial rockery.
The remaining crossbowmen threw down their crossbows, drew their daggers, and grappled with the guards.
The courtyard was filled with the glint of swords and the shouts of battle that made the tiles on the walls fall off with a loud crash.
Dingzi jumped down from the roof of the woodshed, blocking Mei Zhongjun's wheelchair, a short knife held horizontally to his chest.
Two guards rushed forward, Dingzi dodged the first blow by sidestepping it. With his right hand, he used his short knife to cut a gash on the second man's forearm, who screamed and staggered back.
There are too many bodyguards.
Thirty against eleven, and all of them were veteran border soldiers who had eaten military rations and seen blood.
The crossbowmen's training focused on shooting, and they were lacking in close combat skills.
In less than the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, six of the eight crossbowmen had been cut down, and the remaining two, with their backs against the wall, were covered in blood and could no longer stand.
The Dingzi was also stabbed twice.
One cut to the shoulder, one cut to the thigh.
Blood seeped from under his nails. He knelt on one knee, his short knife braced against the brick surface, refusing to fall.
Mei Zhongjun sat in his wheelchair, showing no sign of panic.
He looked at Mei Boqian.
Mei Boqian was also looking at him.
The two brothers stared at each other for a few moments, separated by the glint of swords and the bloodstains covering the courtyard.
"Big brother!"
Mei Zhongjun spoke, but his voice was soft.
You forced me to do this.
His left hand rested on the armrest of the wheelchair, his fingers gripping the gleaming deerskin.
"When I was five years old, my teacher praised my academic performance and intelligence, and that's when you started targeting me in every way!"
"Your father and mother both side with you, saying you are the eldest son and the hope of the Marquis's family. Why?!"
I was only born two years after you!
What do I lack compared to you?!
Then he stood up.
With a push from his legs and a straight back, he was launched from his wheelchair.
He kicked the wheelchair over, and the wheels were still spinning.
Mei Boqian's pupils contracted to the size of pinpoints.
really.
My younger brother's legs.
His leg, which had been paralyzed for seven years.
Being able to stand up means you're doing well.
Mei Zhongjun drew a short knife from a hidden compartment in his wheelchair, the blade spun half a circle in the torchlight.
"Big brother, this is not the time for nonsense, I have serious things to do!"
This concerns the safety of the Marquis's mansion! These two young women cannot live!
After saying that, he suddenly rushed towards the main room of Fallen Plum Studio.
The two guards blocking the door had no time to react and were cleaved down by his sword.
The knife skills were ruthless, targeting vital points; one slit the throat, the other stabbed the heart.
A person who hasn't stood up for seven years can be more ruthless than anyone else once they strike.
Because he knew that after tonight there would be no turning back.
Once the crossbow was exposed, his feigned lameness was revealed. His elder brother wouldn't let him off the hook, and the Marquis's mansion wouldn't tolerate him either.
The only way is to kill the woman who triggered everything and destroy everything she has.
Then they ran through the night.
If we run to Prince An's side, perhaps we can still find a way to survive.
He smashed the wooden door of Fallen Plum Studio.
The room was filled with smoke and dust.
Qingwu stood behind the octagonal table with a sword, black poison still clinging to its blade.
Mei Zhongjun didn't look at her.
His gaze pierced through the smoke and dust, past the overturned tables and chairs and the broken arrow shafts scattered on the floor, and fixed intently on the canopy bed at the very back.
Gu Moli sat there.
She wore a plain blue cloth robe, her hair was neatly tied up, and a scroll of Scripture of Salvation was draped over her knees.
Calm as a clay Buddha in a temple.
"Go to hell."
Mei Zhongjun drew his knife and charged at her.
Qingwu moved sideways to block the middle, her double blades crossing to deflect Mei Zhongjun's short sword.
Metal objects clashed, sparks flying.
Mei Zhongjun's strike carried the weight of seven years of pent-up emotions and tonight's madness; its force was terrifying.
Qingwu's tiger's mouth was ripped open by the shock, and blood gushed out from between her fingers.
My feet slid three steps on the ground, and the soles of my shoes scraped two white marks on the blue bricks.
The double-edged sword was held there, firmly blocking Mei Zhongjun's blade. His arm was trembling, and blood dripped down the hilt.
Mei Zhongjun pressed down harder, Qingwu's knees began to bend, causing her to be pressed lower and lower.
The wound on my left arm, stained with the poisoned arrow's venom, was tingling; my strength was slowly draining from my body.
She was starting to feel the strain.