After running for a long time, An Jiu slowed her pace, using her spiritual sense to confirm no one was pursuing her. The trees had given way to an endless expanse of withered yellow grass. As she caught her breath and her heartbeat steadied, she faintly heard the sound of flowing water.
Following the sound deeper into the grass, An Jiu’s steps caused dry leaves to crackle underfoot. The howling north wind carried ice particles that stung her face. Though it had been sunny before she fainted, now dark clouds loomed overhead, making it difficult to discern the time. She estimated she’d been unconscious for less than two hours.
In two hours of non-stop travel, she should be quite far from Bianjing by now.
Amidst the rustling grass, An Jiu suddenly detected a subtle, different sound. She grasped the dagger in her sleeve, carefully discerning its direction.
“Don’t be alarmed, it’s me,” a deep, familiar voice called out. “You remember me, don’t you?”
An Jiu identified him: “Shen Wu Commander Chu Dingjiang.”
“You know my name?” A figure in black appeared silently before her. The strong wind seemed to vanish around him, not even stirring the hem of his robe. He stood like the eye of a storm, perfectly still amidst the raging tempest.
Knowing she had little chance of resistance if Chu Dingjiang was allied with her captors, An Jiu remained wary. “The men who kidnapped me mentioned it,” she explained.
Chu Dingjiang fell silent as if composing himself. After a while, he said, “Their influence has reached such depths already.”
Among the four branches of the Konghe Army, usually, only deputy commanders were known publicly. The names and personalities of commanders were rarely exposed, even to low-ranking Shadow operatives, let alone outsiders.
“I don’t know how long they can hold out. Come with me!” Chu Dingjiang urged.
An Jiu hesitated briefly, but realizing she had no better options, she followed him.
“You needn’t be nervous. I’ve been lying in wait in Bianjing for days to draw them out,” Chu Dingjiang said casually, a hint of weariness in his voice. The price for this operation was high, and if he failed to obtain crucial intelligence, the pressure on his shoulders would only increase.
They walked in silence for a while.
Chu Dingjiang stopped. “Let me carry you. At this pace, they’ll catch up in no time.”
“Alright,” An Jiu agreed, having decided to trust him.
Chu Dingjiang wrapped an arm around her slender waist and leaped, instantly covering seven or eight zhang. His fire-attribute inner force radiated intense heat through his thick clothing, making An Jiu feel as if she’d been plunged from an icy wasteland into a furnace. Though uncomfortable, she remained still as they traveled.
Half an hour later, Chu Dingjiang brought her to a manor in a valley. As dusk fell, warm light spilled from within the courtyard.
They landed lightly in the front courtyard. Before anyone could question them, Chu Dingjiang presented his token. His tall frame shielded An Jiu completely, preventing anyone from seeing her face.
No one hindered them as Chu Dingjiang led her into a room.
The room was fully furnished, resembling the dwelling of a wealthy family rather than a cold, ruthless assassin’s lair. A roaring fire made the room as warm as spring, instantly melting the ice particles clinging to their clothes into water droplets that seeped into the fabric.
Chu Dingjiang removed his cloak, revealing his athletic build. He turned over an upside-down cup on the table and poured water, saying, “You may not know, but Elder Zhi of the Mei clan has been imprisoned.”
An Jiu had expected this outcome, given that the madman shared Elder Zhi’s water-attribute inner force and passion for archery—too much of a coincidence. She calmly replied, “That water-attribute archery master wasn’t him.”
“I know,” Chu Dingjiang pushed a cup of water towards her, his voice impassive. “But no one else will believe it.”
The atmosphere grew peculiar. Though An Jiu and Chu Dingjiang were hardly acquainted, their conversation flowed as if they’d known each other for years. “What happened?” she asked.
Chu Dingjiang paused, then laughed self-mockingly. “To think I’ve stooped to complaining to a young girl!”
An Jiu took offense at his disdain but decided to hold her tongue, considering he had saved her. “Stop wallowing in self-pity. I’m barely tolerating this conversation. If you don’t want to talk, then don’t!”
Chu Dingjiang didn’t respond. This wasn’t the first time he’d encountered An Jiu’s sharp personality. The last time he’d forcibly taken her to deal with a transcendent archery master, she’d wounded him.
“Did you learn anything about the identities of the two men who kidnapped you?” he asked. “Or any distinguishing features?”
“One was a madman, the other was called Cui Yichen,” An Jiu replied briefly, sharing what she knew. It seemed they might be on the same side now.
“Cui Yichen!” Even the usually composed Chu Dingjiang was visibly shocked.
Though the Cui clan’s influence in the Konghe Army wasn’t as strong as the four major families, they were still formidable. If the entire clan had defected to the enemy, it could have shaken the very foundations of the Konghe Army.
“I’ve heard there are only about a hundred ninth-rank experts in the world, but at the ancient temple, the enemy had at least twenty, right?” An Jiu couldn’t ignore the turbulent undercurrents of this situation. Now that she knew Cui Yichen’s name, she feared future assassination attempts. To survive, she needed a powerful backer.
The Mei clan was facing its troubles and might not be reliable. The man before her, however, was worth considering.
“Even more than that,” Chu Dingjiang said. “The ninth rank doesn’t require much spiritual power. Anyone with some martial talent and dedication can achieve it, given enough time. So there are many unknown ninth-rank martial artists.”
He volunteered more information: “The Konghe Army has suffered its heaviest losses in a decade. If no one dared to take over the Shen Wu Army, I wouldn’t be standing here alive today.”
The previously invincible Konghe Army, always successful in carrying out the emperor’s will, had received a resounding slap to their pride and confidence with this devastating blow.
Amidst the tumultuous situation, this thorny matter had been thrust upon Chu Dingjiang, leaving him no room for refusal.
Few in the Shen Wu Army truly respected him, but Chu Dingjiang was undaunted. Just as he had anticipated the presence of a transcendent expert this time, knowing intervention was doomed to fail, he had sent those who opposed him to their deaths.
The Konghe Army had one rule: absolute obedience. Without a retreat order, they could only advance, never retreat!
His approach was extreme but effective, though not without drawbacks. Those with wavering loyalty flocked to Chu Dingjiang, seeing his protectiveness, while the steadfast loyalists grew to hate him even more.
Chu Dingjiang didn’t fear being hated. He was determined to succeed or die trying. However, with few trusted subordinates, he now found himself at a severe disadvantage. This led to his idea of recruiting An Jiu.
Though An Jiu lacked inner force, her ability to convert others’ inner force into powerful arrow shots made her a potentially formidable assassin of high-ranking targets.
With one eager to recruit and the other willing to align herself, they quickly found common ground. Chu Dingjiang spoke candidly: “The mastermind’s identity remains unknown, but their goal of eliminating the Konghe Army is clear.”
The four major families would be the first targets in dismantling the Konghe Army.
“Could it be the emperor?” An Jiu asked.
Chu Dingjiang replied, “I initially thought so, but upon careful consideration, I don’t believe that’s the case. There are many reasons, but most importantly, I know the emperor isn’t as… idle as people think. I’ve also considered the possibility of someone trying to bring me down, but to speak treasonously, if that person truly could gather so many experts, using them to overthrow me would be giving me too much credit. They could use that power to usurp the Song throne.”
So, this was either an attempt to usurp the Song throne or a foreign power coveting the Great Song.
The Great Song’s army of 1.4 million soldiers might seem impressive, but after generations of emphasizing civil affairs over military matters, the army’s system had grown lax. With outdated weapons and soldiers who valued their lives and comfort over valor, it would be fortunate if even 400,000 of those troops were effective in battle.
For foreign powers, the real threat was the Konghe Army! How many members did this elusive force truly have? How had they helped Zhao Kuangyin seize the throne and play crucial roles in subsequent political upheavals?
Chu Dingjiang pushed these thoughts aside. He watched the young woman calmly sipping tea in the flickering lamplight, feeling a strange sensation. Not only was he surprised by her composure and gravity, but he was also astonished to find himself earnestly discussing the situation with this young girl.