The command "Release arrows!" was followed by the whistling of dozens of projectiles through the air.
Without Li Yuangui as a human shield, Qibi Luo and his men became live targets. At such close range, they had no chance of survival. Li Yuangui didn’t even spare a glance at their fate, shouting for the guards to cut his bonds before leaping up and charging into the watchtower.
The first floor of the watchtower was deserted—Sang Sai had indeed fled. The second floor still bore only the corpses of the fallen guards. Li Yuangui snatched up a blade and dashed straight for the wooden ladder, scrambling upward with desperate urgency.
His heart pounded with dread. Halfway up, he heard guards below shouting, "Fourteenth Young Master... armor..." But there was no time to turn back and don protective gear. He knew the third-floor sentry post was manned by Tuyuhun assassins, fully armed with bows, crossbows, and blades, ready to emerge from the hatch above and strike him down at any moment. Yet he pressed on, heedless of the danger.
The agonized scream that had echoed from the watchtower’s peak—whether it came from Chai Yingluo or Wei Shufen—would haunt him for life.
With a final kick against the ladder’s top rung, Li Yuangui burst through the sentry post hatch, swinging his blade to shield his head as he rolled onto the platform. A biting wind, sharp as countless icy needles, pierced him from all directions.
Another woman’s scream rang out—hoarse, terrified, on the verge of breaking. He looked up to see two disheveled figures clinging to each other near the northern edge of the platform, their appearances ghastly as specters. But both women were alive.
Li Yuangui exhaled deeply, his body momentarily weak with relief, nearly collapsing where he stood. Yet this was no time to let his guard down. Steeling himself, he staggered to his feet and stumbled toward the women, blade raised in defense.
"Yingniang! A Fen!"
As he drew closer, he saw blood staining both women’s clothes. Wei Shufen’s face was especially horrifying, smeared with grime and gore. Chai Yingluo remained relatively composed, nodding at him and calling out, "Fourteenth Uncle." Wei Shufen, however, couldn’t speak at all. Her lips trembled before she buried her face in the female Taoist’s shoulder and burst into loud sobs.
"Are you injured?" Li Yuangui asked urgently.
"We’re unharmed," Chai Yingluo sighed. "A Fen is just shaken. This was her first time killing someone."
Killing... someone?
Only then did Li Yuangui notice the corpse lying beside them—a burly, black-clad figure with a masked face, one of the assassins Sang Sai had left on the sentry post. Another black-clad body lay motionless near the southern hatch. Beyond these, the platform was empty... yet something felt missing.
"Where’s Yin Shi?" Li Yuangui demanded. "Where did that vile woman go?"
The moment the words left his mouth, he understood—the long, piercing shriek he’d heard from below the watchtower must have been Consort Yin’s death cry.
Chai Yingluo steadied herself and recounted the harrowing events on the platform. After the imperial guards surrounded the watchtower, Sang Sai and Qibi Luo had not only taken Li Yuangui hostage but also sent men to the third floor to deal with the women and secure the high ground. The moment their assailant reached the platform, he had seized Consort Yin and hurled her over the railing before turning to grab Chai Yingluo.
He had underestimated the female Taoist’s skills. Seeing Consort Yin murdered, Chai Yingluo guessed she would be next. Before the man could act, she lunged into his arms—her only weapon being the dagger Li Yuangui had secretly passed to her earlier, a slender and short blade that required close-quarters grappling to be effective.These barbarian assassins had gravely underestimated a woman's combat prowess. Despite the swords at their waists, they couldn't be bothered to draw them, and the crossbows in their hands proved utterly useless—even cumbersome—in close-quarters combat. Moreover, this man clearly didn't know Chai Yingluo was armed with a sharp dagger. After a few haphazard shoves, the female Taoist seized her moment and plunged the blade into his chest.
But that wasn't the end. As soon as the struggle began, the barbarian warrior who had been firing downward from the northern side of the watchtower noticed and turned, raising his crossbow to aid his comrade. However, Chai Yingluo was locked in such close combat with her opponent that their bodies were practically fused—any shot risked hitting his ally.
Cursing, the sentry lowered his crossbow, drew his waist-sword, and rushed to assist. In his haste, he forgot about Wei Shufen, who still lay sprawled on the ground. The watchtower was cramped, and he hadn't taken two steps before his right leg was seized—Wei Shufen had desperately wrapped her arms around it, yanking the burly black-clad man off balance. He nearly toppled.
The sentry roared profanities, kicking futilely to break free before swinging his blade at Wei Shufen's head. The prime minister's delicate daughter, utterly defenseless, squeezed her eyes shut and braced for death—yet her arms remained locked around his leg.
Ahead, shouts and footsteps erupted. Chai Yingluo had stabbed her opponent through the heart but couldn't immediately wrench the dagger free from the gory mess. Seizing the moment as the hulking man stiffened, she grabbed the hilt of the sword at his waist, unsheathed it, shoved his body aside, and charged the sentry with the long blade.
Seeing his comrade slain and this new threat barreling toward him, the sentry momentarily abandoned Wei Shufen to focus on defense. Chai Yingluo knew her strength was inferior—she hoped to capitalize on her momentum for a lethal full-body strike, as she'd done with the first attacker. But this man was prepared. Their blades met midair with a deafening CLANG—
The female Taoist's sword flew from her grasp, her palms screaming with pain as her body hurtled backward like a severed kite string. She crashed into a wooden pillar supporting the canopy, feeling as if every bone had shattered.
Meanwhile, Wei Shufen drove a crossbow bolt deep into the black-clad assassin's abdomen.
She'd clung stubbornly to the sentry's leg, weaponless and resigned to her fate—until something repeatedly bumped against her scalp. Dazed, she looked up and spotted the quiver (hulu) hanging from the sentry's belt, its opening bristling with three or five crossbow bolts' fletching within easy reach.
Without thinking, she yanked one free, channeled all her remaining strength into her right arm, and rammed the glinting arrowhead into the black-clad man's gut.
She wasn't even sure if it pierced flesh—the shaft snapped almost instantly upon meeting resistance. But a pained, startled howl erupted above her, followed by a cascade of warm, wet fluid... Wei Shufen likely blacked out then, for when she came to, she was cradled in Chai Yingluo's arms.
After some tears, she gradually steadied herself, collaborating with Chai Yingluo to recount their harrowing ordeal and miraculous luck. The fortune truly beggared belief—Li Yuangui kept glancing back at the watchtower corpses, struggling to accept that these two delicate beauties had personally slain two hulking brutes.The unexpected demise of Consort Yin had nearly rendered their daring efforts tonight futile, yet in comparison, that loss seemed negligible. The safety of these two women was what mattered most, Li Yuangui thought, feeling an inexplicable sting in his nostrils.
But there was still another woman—his seventeenth sister. How was she now? Had she also been rescued unharmed?
As the three conversed on the watchtower, they failed to notice the gradual lightening of the eastern sky. The inky blue of night faded successively into deep blue, violet-gray, pale blue, and moon-white, while drifting clouds stretched lazily and orange hues of dawn spilled across the horizon. The morning sun danced behind the undulating peaks of the southern mountains.
From the southeast, the faint yet prolonged tolling of bells and beating of drums drifted over.
The night curfew of Chang'an had ended. After the bells and drums sounded from the Shuntian Gate tower of the imperial city, street drums throughout the palace and inner city struck in unison, rousing the drowsy capital. The distant echoes of the bells and drums, having traversed the forbidden garden and reached the watchtower of Great Peace Palace, were now so faint they seemed to emerge from an unreal dream.
Imperial guards bustled about the watchtower, cleaning up the aftermath, but Li Yuangui and his two companions neither interfered nor moved from their spots. They were utterly exhausted—so much so that even shifting their bodies felt like torture.
Yet they couldn’t linger indefinitely on the tower, gazing at the sunrise and fantasizing about ascending to immortality on the spot.
"Your Highness, Prince Wu."
An imperial guard ascended the watchtower and cautiously reported:
"The Crown Prince has arrived at Great Peace Palace and summons Prince Wu for an audience."
#####Author's note: This chapter includes an explanation of the "hulu" (quiver) carried by the black-clad assassins. For images, please visit the author’s Weibo. Search for the ID "Tang Dynasty Travel Guide Forest Deer" on Sina Weibo. Welcome to discuss!
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