Jing Wen remained silent for a moment before saying emotionlessly, “Is it not a bit ridiculous to say these words while wearing a mask?”

The person behind the mask smiled, but it was impossible to see the expression through the layer of fabric. “Are you intending to figure out my identity through this conversation. How pathetic.”

Jing Wen didn’t care about the fact that the other person had figured out he was trying to ascertain his identity. He had never been skilled in interrogation, and had only wanted to give it a try.

Although Yang Heng had already shown he no longer intended to attack Jing Wen, how can someone as proud as him let it go so simply. His left hand formed a fist, while his right hand’s grip on the sword tightened.

Yang Heng scoffed, not caring for Jing Wen’s attitude.

But as Yang Heng turned to leave the courtyard, Jing Wen’s noise twitched, and he noticed a faint sweet smell lingering in the garden.

As the former captain of the Imperial Guards, Jing Wen was rather intimate with poison. The smell in the courtyard came from the poison arrow tree grown in Lingnan. The locals of Lingnan describe its effects as ‘once infected with the poison, one can only take seven steps forward, or eight steps back’.

Yang Heng seemed to have noticed the lingering scent too, retreating from the courtyard at an even greater speed. If he stood by and watched the assassination on Jing Wen’s life take place and disappear for too long, suspicion would undoubtedly be raised against him. But if he takes the initiative to fend off these assassins for Jing Wen, his identity would immediately be inferred through his martial arts… the only way to preserve his reputation was to flee, removing himself from the whole situation.

The moment Yang Heng leap over the walls of the Jing manor, numerous bolts appeared in the air. It whistled through the air and approached Jing Wen at a frightening speed.

Jing Wen maintained his indifferent expression as he stomped against the ground and forced the window screen that had fallen off into the air. Its wooden frame caught the arrows tainted with green, before splitting into pieces.

As the wood fragments fell, two black swords struck through the dust like two dark, venomous snakes.

The two swords were completely black to avoid all light, and the pair that wielded these swords were also wearing black. Neither of the two was covering their faces, showing their intention to either succeed or perish.

That piece of cloth shook, and Jing Wen made a twist with his foot. A sword brushed past his neck from the left, followed by the other sword from his right.

Qi Manifestation cultivators can never be defeated by those of lower states due to their perception. Although Jing Wen was no longer such an expert, the perception remains. Despite the swords striking with the litheness of snakes and the elusiveness of shadows, it was still impossible to escape Jing Wen’s detection. The pair launched ten strikes in the time of a second, yet Jing Wen continued to evade them.

The three began to drift towards the end of the study, and beads of sweat began to appear on Jing Wen’s forehead. He longer had the strength of a Qi Manifestation cultivator; it was impossible for him to continue fighting in this manner.

However, the two assassins were not entirely calm as well. Their face turned paler and paler as they realised none of their weapons was even scratching Jing Wen.

Sho! From the walls of the manor, another set of bolts were released. The two assassins bit their lips and continued to pressure Jing Wen.

Jing Wen’s heart tightened as he watched the approaching bolts. He was already struggling to evade the two swordsmen - how can he evade crossbow bolts on top of that?

With a squelch, one of the bolts pierced his waist.

Blood began to surge onto his white robes.

In these few breaths of time, the two swordsmen were also hit by these bolts, and blood seeped into their black clothes. Yet they continued to slash at Jing Wen, as though they were actually snakes that feared no poison.

Yet their body was already affected by the poison, their movements far slower than before. The sword in Jing Wen’s hand turned into a blur, hacking towards the two assassin’s necks.

The two swordsmen’s body had already gone limp when a thin line of crimson appeared on their neck. Soon, blood began to flow out uncontrollably, before the two dropped towards the ground.

Before the bodies had fully collapsed, that piece of cloth fluttered once more. Jing Wen could feel the poison taking over his body, turning it limp at a frightening pace. Kicking against the frame of the study, Jing Wen landed on the wall where the final assassin is.

A muffled crash could be heard as the tiles on the roof cracked. However, before the cracks could spread, Jing Wen had lowered the sword in his right hand and thrust forth with his left hand, curled into a fist.

The final assassin sighed as he watched this. Although he had attacked from a distance, he had used a crossbow. This was sufficient proof that he had never been specialised in archery, but rather an expert of close range.

The final assassin raised his hand and slammed them down onto Jing Wen’s fist.

Another muffled crash rang out as shockwaves made the walls the two were standing on completely collapsed.

An intense pain travelled through Jing Wen’s left arm through his bones. He had never face such formidable raw strength. Before even a moment had passed, shrieks from his arm could be heard as they were pushed to their limits.

The blood flowing out from the wound caused the earlier bolt decreased, but its crimson colour was bound by a tinge of green. This was an obvious sign of poisoning, but Jing Wen did not lose his composure, only that a hint of pain could be seen between his brows.

“It’s a shame that someone like Sir Jing would have to perish like this. However, this is the will of the heavens - going against it is futile.” The assassin understood that Jing Wen had run out of options.

Yet the next moment, a strange breeze came blowing in, violently gathering around Jing Wen’s left hand. The gust formed a horrifying whirlpool as Jing Wen’s arm continued to tremble.

The assassin’s eyes squinted as he noticed the anomaly. He sighed, “As expected of sir Jing - it seems like you still have some ability… only, you shouldn’t have thought so greatly of yourself, blinded by the arrogance of youth!”

The arm of the assassin was akin to steel swelled as more strength entered. The fist that was far larger than his opponent’s slowly forced Jing Wen’s to retract his arm.

Yet the whirlpool that had gathered, as it provoked, stir without restraint. As if a great door had been opened, a massive amount of Qi burst forth, crashing against the arm of the assassin.

Current currents of broken Qi arose around the two, turning the brick fragments into dust.

Jing Wen’s arm continued with terrifying strength, pushing past the assassin’s arm onto his torso. A strange expression formed on the assassin’s face as he opened his mouth, causing Jing Wen’s face to become ever dirtier and bloodier. His chest and abdomen had been completely carved in!

Yet the assassin did not perish so easily. Unmoved by the heavy blow, he smashed his hand mercilessly down onto Jing Wen’s shoulders, turning it into a horrifying blend of flesh and blood.

But Jing Wen’s expression did not shift in the slightest in response to the injury. Using the momentum from the arm, he finally raised the sword in his right hand and pierced it through the assassin’s throat. Then, without a hint of hesitation, it was raised upwards, splitting the assassin’s skull into two halves.

As the assassin faced his last moments, he forced out a sigh. Only, it sounded especially strange, since his windpipe had already been destroyed. At last, he collapsed backwards onto the streets before Jing manor.

Jing Wen ‘gazed’ at the two halves of the assassin’s head for a split moment. He swallowed a pill with haste, before disappearing.

---

The moment Lin’an entered dust, countless shops would temporarily close to prepare for the new wave of customers that would come in the deep night. At this moment, only a few pedestrians that were new to Lin’an could be seen wandering on the street, before hurriedly running away as a youth covered in blood ran onto Long’an Avenue. The youth staggered ahead, his legs occasionally failing to take the next step or to support him, causing his balance to disappear and flop onto the ground.

Green tinted blood continued to seep into his robes. He felt his mind slowly becoming tangled, and the interval between his breath becoming shorter. Only by relying on his Qi to suppress the effects of the poison can he still continue towards his destination.

“My life is in your hands,” upon reaching the clinic that was always empty of customers, Jing Wen let out a faint murmur.

Perhaps it was because the poison had affected his vocal muscles as well, that his speech was rather slurred and difficult to understand.

Once the last of the sentence left his mouth, Jing Wen closed his eyes, loosened his shoulders, and immediately fell unconscious. It was unclear if he was alive or dead.

Even if he were dead, though, his left hand was still clutching that piece of paper.