The blade flashed forward, closing in fast, though the wealthy young master still found breath to shout over his shoulder, ordering his two remaining companions to go after Qin Siyuan first. Fire-lance in one hand and fire-striker in the other, Ning Yi found himself forced back several steps, unable to get the weapon lit in time. Amid the crowd near the entrance, the tall, gaunt man abruptly wheeled around and charged toward Qin Siyuan, and within a few breaths, the most powerfully built of the men had also noticed what was happening over here. He snatched a weapon from one of the street thugs and hacked his way through with brutal force, clearing a path in moments and closing the gap with Song Qian—the two of them clashing blade to blade.
The wealthy young master had by now reached the scarred man’s corpse; he glanced down at the grim sight for a moment, then turned his gaze toward Ning Yi, who was unable to reach the entrance to help. With a savage sneer, he raised his blade with a flourish and charged forward. Ning Yi was already preparing to abandon the fire-lance when he suddenly heard a woman’s cry from nearby.
“Ahh—!”
With a crash, two figures went hurtling through the already-shattered wall and window, plunging into the Qinhuai River—still only early in the second lunar month.
“Jin’er—!”
It was Jin’er, who, seeing Yun Zhu injured, had come running over in tears—and had thrown herself, along with the wealthy young master, straight out through the broken window. In some places the ice and snow hadn’t yet fully melted; the weather was bitterly cold, the river water freezing—an ordinary girl surely couldn’t withstand that. Startled, Ning Yi rushed to the broken window to look down at the river, while Yun Zhu had already pulled herself up off the floor.
“Jin’er will be fine, go help Old Qin…”
By Yun Zhu’s own instinct, given how vicious these men were, it would have been best if Ning Yi could simply avoid the fight altogether. But wishing was one thing—she understood well enough what mattered most in the moment, and quickly said as much, hurrying over to the broken window to look down as well. The water below churned in wild disarray; the two figures who’d fallen in were nowhere to be seen for the moment. Ning Yi lingered a beat longer, then finally gritted his teeth and charged toward the entrance. He’d only run a few steps when he heard Yun Zhu cry out behind him: “Jin’er—” but there was, of course, no time to go back and check on her.
From the moment the chaos had first erupted to now, probably no more than a minute had passed. The entrance was in complete disarray, the fighting still raging, and some guests who’d originally been trying to force their way out were now running back inside instead. Ning Yi flicked open his fire-striker and waved it a few times to brighten the flame, but as he pushed toward the entrance, he was blocked again and again by guests running the opposite way, unable to make any real progress.
Across the way, amid the ongoing melee, the most powerfully built of the men had already traded several blows with Song Qian; the crowd made it hard to see clearly, but Song Qian, tasked with protecting Old Qin, was plainly getting the worse of it. Ning Yi shouted at the top of his voice: “Get out of the way! Out of the way!”—though it did little good. He raised the fire-lance and took aim across the hall. “Stop this at once!”
The tall, gaunt man wielding twin blades heard Ning Yi’s shout clearly enough. His face was a bloody, ferocious mask; he swung one blade toward Ning Yi, but with so many people crowded between them, Ning Yi simply shoved sideways, and the blade instead buried itself in the arm of a bystander, drawing another chorus of anguished screams.
The gaunt man wasn’t in the least worried about Ning Yi firing at him from this distance through such a crowd—there was no way he’d have the accuracy, not with this many people packed between them. But he noticed that the wealthy young master was no longer following behind Ning Yi, and had no idea what had happened to him. Eyes blazing with fury, he bellowed back the exact same challenge Ning Yi had just shouted: “Come on, then!” He watched his powerfully built companion still bearing down to kill Qin Siyuan—if he could just hold things up here a little longer, the deed would surely be done.
Ning Yi lit the fire-lance and aimed it at the gaunt man, then swung it toward the powerfully built one instead, but the barrel kept getting jostled by the crowd pressing in from every side. The fuse was still burning down. The gaunt man edged sideways and shouted, “Watch out for that bastard’s fire-lance!” The man locked in combat with Song Qian shot a cold glance in this direction, then landed several more blows on Song Qian in a flash of blade-light, sending him staggering backward.
It all happened within the span of a single breath—the fuse burning ever shorter. Watching Ning Yi struggling helplessly in the crush of the crowd, the gaunt man’s face twisted into a mocking sneer. But in the next instant, he saw Ning Yi hurl the fire-lance through the air with all his strength.
“Catch it—!”
“Watch out—!”
“Ahh—!”
The shouts converged into one. The fire-lance, its fuse trailing a bright point of light, sailed through the air above the crowd. Song Qian raised his blade and leaped high—swinging it down at the powerfully built man with one motion, while at the same time reaching up to try to catch the fire-lance sailing toward him from behind the man.
In the next instant, a hand seized the fire-lance—and Song Qian, still airborne, was sent flying by a kick.
It was the powerfully built man who had abruptly spun around; he’d kicked Song Qian away, even flashing a savage grin toward Ning Yi as he did, the fire-lance now gripped firmly in his hand. In one swift motion, he spun back around, aiming it at Qin Siyuan, now just a few meters away with no one left to block him.
Time seemed to freeze in that instant.
Bang—
The shot rang out like a massive explosion, smoke and a flash of red light bursting forth, followed by a spray of blood, and the powerfully built man’s body tilted slightly backward.
But it wasn’t recoil.
In that instant, the fire-lance had burst at the breach. Bamboo splinters and the iron grip, driven back by the sudden, violent force of the blast, tore across half the man’s face, taking one of his eyes with it.
Had the fire-lance simply fired normally, the force of a burst breach wouldn’t ordinarily have been anywhere near this severe, and in most cases, a projectile would still have been sent forward as well. But this explosion was different—the powder charge was several times greater than a normal load, and the barrel’s front end had been packed nearly solid, channeling as much of the force as possible backward instead.
Most of the fire-lances Ning Yi had prepared to return to Kang Xian had, in fact, already been damaged. When loading them earlier, he’d already considered that these weapons were difficult to reload, and against a truly skilled opponent, their actual combat value was limited. If these were genuinely capable assassins who intended to escape after striking within the city, he’d likely only get one real chance to use a weapon like this. Much like the wealthy young master charging at him just now—an opponent like that would never give him a second chance to light the fuse. So he’d only properly loaded one fire-lance; the other, he’d deliberately turned into something closer to a hand grenade, just in case.
His original plan had accounted for the fact that they were outnumbered—even if he managed to take down one attacker with a shot, he and Song Qian together would still be at a disadvantage. Carrying the fire-lance on his back, he’d need only expose a deliberate opening to tempt them into snatching it away; once they did, a single detonation could take out one more of them. But a trick like that could only work once—hence why he hadn’t bothered loading a third.
Things hadn’t unfolded quite according to plan, but by deliberately playing up his struggle against the crush of the crowd, he’d managed to make it work all the same.
Amid the man’s heart-wrenching scream of agony, there was also an unmistakable note of shock and disbelief. The gaunt man froze for a moment, stunned—unfortunate for him that he didn’t know who Ning Yi was, nor had he ever heard the nickname “Ten Steps Ahead”; had he known, his reaction would surely have been different. When he turned back around, he saw Ning Yi—no longer blocked by the crowd—shoving people forcefully aside as he charged forward, his voice low and cold: “You’re already dead.”
The powerfully built man clutched at his ruined face with one hand; regaining some of his senses, he seemed ready to press forward toward Qin Siyuan on sheer ferocity alone, but the gaunt man grabbed hold of him. “Go! We need to go, now!”
“Kill them! Kill them!”
The brute struggled for a moment, but finally recognized the situation was hopeless. Together with his gaunt companion, he cut a path through the street thugs still blocking the way and fled.
Ning Yi had never had much confidence in his own ability to go toe-to-toe with fighters of this caliber in close combat—the scarred man had proven that point well enough. Had he not had some real grounding in joint-locking self-defense techniques, having studied them together with Lu Hongti, he’d very likely be dead by now. Seeing the two men flee, he naturally didn’t dare give chase. As for the remaining street thugs who’d rushed in from who-knew-where, they’d already been caught up in the chaos with the two burly men and Song Qian, most of them cut down, though a few stragglers still seemed intent on fighting on. Song Qian, having picked himself back up, had likely realized by now that these thugs weren’t actually connected to the assassins. He now positioned himself in front of Qin Siyuan and pulled out a waist tally from his robes.
“The Prince Kang household is conducting business here—who are you people, daring to join forces with assassins? Looking to commit treason?”
At these words, the remaining thugs froze in stunned disbelief, their fighting abruptly halting.
As the immediate crisis eased, the scene around them looked like the aftermath of a battlefield. Looking back at the wreckage inside the hall, though it had felt crowded moments earlier, that had mostly been due to the sheer number of tables, chairs, and furnishings taking up space—when some people managed to duck under tables, it had at least prevented any truly disastrous crush or stampede. Catching sight of the woman in the white skirt standing near the broken section of wall, Ning Yi suddenly remembered that Jin’er and the wealthy young master had fallen into the river. He hurried over to look, and just then caught sight of a splash in the water—the young master’s upper body had briefly surfaced, trying to break free of the water, only to sink back down again almost immediately.
The water churned in chaotic disarray. A few seconds later, the young master’s hands broke the surface again, grasping at nothing, before sinking once more—this cycle repeating itself several times over. Now and then his head would surface just enough to try to cry “Help!”—but more often than not, the cry would be cut short as river water rushed into his mouth. Jin’er’s figure, meanwhile, was nowhere to be seen. Before long, blood began welling up in the water.
Ning Yi watched for a while before finally making out, faintly, a figure moving through the water like a mermaid—or perhaps more like a piranha—circling around the young master’s body. Old Qin came over just then. The old man, having weathered plenty in his time, had already composed himself, and glanced over beside Ning Yi. “Is that…”
“Should be Jin’er…”
The blood spread downstream, and the disturbance in the water gradually settled. After a moment, on the stone steps by the riverbank, a woman suddenly emerged from the water, soaked through, her long hair hanging down like tangled waterweed—it was Jin’er, dragging a man’s body with one hand, a hairpin clenched between her teeth. The man she’d dragged out of the water was the wealthy young master, his lower body still gushing blood, now barely clinging to life.
While in the water, Jin’er hadn’t just been dragging him under—she’d also been repeatedly jabbing her hairpin into his thighs and buttocks along the way, and given the poor visibility underwater, she may well have missed her mark a few times, perhaps even striking somewhere further forward when aiming for his backside. Ning Yi had already known Jin’er was an excellent swimmer, but seeing this now sent a genuine chill down his spine—he made a private note to himself to always keep well clear of open water whenever he found himself trading barbs with this woman in the future.
Having spent so long submerged in freezing water in this weather, and now soaked through from head to toe, she was undoubtedly freezing. Once she climbed ashore, she wrapped her arms around herself, sniffling, and a moment later, someone came over and draped a garment over her shoulders. She looked up to see it was Ning Yi, who’d taken off his own torn outer robe to cover her; she didn’t refuse it, and when Ning Yi put his arm around her shoulders, she even leaned into him a little.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine…” She sniffled. “Where’s Sister Yun Zhu?”
Just as she spoke, Yun Zhu came hurrying over as well, still clutching her shoulder, and took Jin’er from Ning Yi’s arms. Ning Yi, noticing the mark on the shoulder of her white robe, asked with some concern, “Are you all right?”
“It hurts a little.” Yun Zhu smiled faintly. “But I should be fine.”
“I’ll get a physician right away.”
“Mm. Let me take Jin’er upstairs first—she needs to change and have a bath.”
Though Yun Zhu’s thoughts were still in some disarray, and she had things she wanted to say to Ning Yi, Jin’er obviously couldn’t be left standing around in this state for long, so she said this and helped Jin’er away. As for the chaos left behind, Song Qian could naturally be trusted to handle the remaining thugs. Ning Yi looked over at the wealthy young master, now more than half-dead, and asked Qin Siyuan, “Old Qin, do you have any idea who these people were?”
Old Qin was studying the man as well, thinking it over for a moment before breaking into a complicated smile, followed by a sigh. “It’s been quite a few years since anything like this happened to me. These… are probably Liao people.”
Ning Yi nodded, thinking back on the men’s northern-style dress—it did indeed match what one might expect from Liao. Still, though the men had clearly been formidable fighters, today’s operation seemed to have lacked any real formal planning or organization, which struck him as somewhat odd.
Looking again at Qin Siyuan, Ning Yi had previously assumed the old man led a quiet, uneventful life—but these past weeks had genuinely been a dramatic turn of fortune for him, with people coming to praise him, curse him, and pay him visits, and now even Liao assassins showing up to try to kill him. Thinking about it this way, the rumors circulating in the marketplace suddenly seemed rather more credible than he’d assumed.
The turbulent, contentious relationship between the Jin and Liao states these past years—it seemed this quiet old man, who’d lived in retirement in Jiangning for so long, really had played some part in shaping it after all… Ning Yi felt a quiet stir of admiration at the thought, though judging by Old Qin’s demeanor, it seemed unlikely he’d speak openly about any of it unless something truly major forced the issue. Ning Yi wasn’t one for idle gossip; though he found the whole affair genuinely fascinating in its sweep and drama, he’d, after all, been through similar things himself before. His mind was on Yun Zhu’s injury and Jin’er’s condition, so he turned and had someone summon a physician to examine them both.
As for the events of that afternoon, everyone present had simply been caught up in the moment by chance. The several dozen thugs at the entrance—no one had any idea what they’d actually been there for—Ning Yi only found out after calling for the physician that they’d been hired to come smash up the Bamboo Records shop. Song Qian, who held a fairly respectable position within the princely household, had charged through a genuine life-or-death situation; though still a little shaken, he knew full well he’d just earned himself real credit for this. He was deeply impressed by Ning Yi having thrown him the fire-lance, and consequently found himself thoroughly disgusted with the thugs as well. Realizing by now that Ning Yi had some connection to Bamboo Records, he snorted. “Colluding with assassins to commit violence in broad daylight—this time, not just them, but whoever’s behind them too, none of them are getting away.”
He knew perfectly well, of course, that the thugs had nothing to do with the assassins—but having crossed paths with this mess, they’d more or less brought their misfortune on themselves.
The local constables had arrived by now as well, and before long, people from both the princely household and the Consort’s residence had rushed over too, led by none other than Lu A’Gui. They took the barely-alive young master into custody, and searched his person, finding among his belongings a trade permit for cross-border commerce.
“A Liao national.” Lu A’Gui showed the permit to Ning Yi as well. “Who would have thought something like this could happen. Old Qin’s been in quiet retirement for seven years now, and these people… this is simply outrageous!”