This day was unusually hot, with the blazing sun scorching the earth. The ground was a dazzling white, the trees on both sides of the road drooped listlessly, looking dispirited, and the horses pulling the carriage panted heavily.

“Please pour me a cup of water,” Qiao Mo said to the servant inside the carriage.

The servant, dripping with sweat, concealed his unwillingness and shuffled to a corner of the carriage. He picked up the teapot, shook it, then turned and said: “Young Master, there’s no water left.”

“Are there any tea stalls outside?”

The servant poked his head out to look: “No, Young Master. Please endure a bit longer. There are tea stalls at that place just outside the city.”

Qiao Mo closed his eyes and said nothing more.

The servant’s gaze swept over Qiao Mo’s face, and he pursed his lips.

Looking like that, and still so delicate, thinking he’s still a noble young master?

On such a hot day, insisting on going out to donate incense oil money – isn’t this just pointless suffering?

The servant wiped away sweat and lifted the carriage curtain to urge the driver: “Hurry up! The young master is thirsty.”

The driver cracked his whip: “Can’t go faster! It’s too hot – any faster and the horse won’t be able to take it.”

The servant irritably dropped the curtain and muttered quietly: “This really isn’t weather for traveling!”

As soon as he finished speaking, the carriage suddenly came to an abrupt stop. The servant’s entire body was thrown forward, his forehead hitting the carriage wall.

“How do you drive?” The servant lifted the curtain and cursed angrily.

The driver pointed ahead: “Young sir, someone is standing there. If I hadn’t been quick to stop the carriage, we would have crashed into him.”

“So what if we had!” The servant, whose forehead had just been bumped, was furious and muttered.

“Who are you? Why are you standing in the middle of the road blocking the way?” the servant called out loudly.

“May I ask if Young Master Qiao Mo is in the carriage?”

“That’s right, it’s our young master. Do you have business with our young master?”

“Nothing major.” The young man blocking the road brought his hands from behind his back, revealing a knife in his grasp.

The servant’s eyes widened, and his voice changed pitch: “You, what do you want to do?”

The young man slowly raised the knife: “Kill someone—”

Under the blazing sun, white light flashed as the long knife carried a chill as it struck.

The servant shouted: “Wait—”

The knife paused in mid-air.

“Wait for me to get out of the way first!” The servant finished his sentence and fled with his head covered like a rat.

The young man holding the knife was momentarily stunned.

There was a servant like this?

He quickly came to his senses and coldly shouted: “Young Master Qiao, meet your death!”

The long knife was raised, cold light flickering, carrying fierce wind as it slashed toward the carriage.

The already terrified driver instinctively raised his whip and lashed the horse hard.

The horse neighed loudly, reared up, and galloped forward.

At this moment, the knife had already struck the carriage wall, sinking deep into it. When the carriage suddenly moved, the young man’s knife immediately slipped from his hand, following the carriage for over ten zhang before falling to the ground.

“Stop right there!” The young man picked up his knife and ran frantically in pursuit.

The servant also shouted: “Take me with you!”

The young man suddenly stopped and turned around.

“You, what do you want to do?” The servant stepped back several paces, then turned and ran.

The young man leaped up and kicked the servant to the ground, then chased forward for a while. Seeing he couldn’t catch the carriage, he had no choice but to return, pick up the unconscious servant, and walk away leisurely.

The driver, whose nerves were stretched to the limit, kept looking back fearfully lest the young assassin catch up. He happened to see this scene and couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.

Fortunately, he had run fast, and fortunately, the servant was too stupid and hold up the assassin.

Under the scorching sun, the driver desperately cracked his whip. The carriage horse’s breathing sounded like a broken bellows until it finally collapsed thunderously.

In that instant, the carriage toppled over by the roadside, and the driver was flung out onto the grass.

“Cough, cough, cough, cough.” Qiao Mo’s coughing sounds arose.

The dazed driver took a while to get up and run over, frantically lifting the carriage curtain: “Young Master, are you alright?”

Qiao Mo leaned against the carriage wall, his face somewhat pale, saying weakly: “I’m fine.”

“Good that you’re fine, good that you’re fine. Young Master, the horse died from the heat. This old servant will help you walk.”

Qiao Mo stepped out of the carriage, gently brushed his robe, his demeanor still composed: “No need. Let’s go.”

The driver stared ahead with wide eyes, his face full of terror.

Qiao Mo followed the driver’s gaze and saw a gray-clothed man wearing a veiled hat, holding a sword, and standing not far away. After a moment of eye contact, he began walking toward them step by step.

The driver’s expression changed drastically: “Young Master, this is bad! There’s more than one assassin!”

He had wondered how they could have escaped so easily – now they were going to lose their lives here!

Watching the assassin approach step by step, Qiao Mo felt somewhat heavy-hearted.

Miss Li had told him she had arranged for someone to pose as an assassin on the road back from Dafu Temple to stage an attack and abduct the servant. This scenario had just occurred, so what was this assassin about?

Why did the opponent’s aura and the faint killing intent emanating from him make him feel uneasy?

Qiao Mo slowly stepped back, thinking of a possibility: could someone be going with the flow, using the plan he and Miss Li had devised to turn the tables and send a real assassin?

Qiao Mo didn’t fear death. Ever since the fire had engulfed his familiar home with every tree and blade of grass, and his relatives had perished in that calamity, he had lost his fear of death.

But though he didn’t fear death, he couldn’t die.

These thoughts flashed through Qiao Mo’s mind in an instant as he coldly shouted: “Split up and run!”

The driver was stunned, then spread his arms to block in front of Qiao Mo: “Young Master, you run quickly! This old servant will block him for you!”

As soon as he finished speaking, the driver screamed and was kicked to the roadside by the approaching assassin.

Qiao Mo turned and ran.

The assassin silently followed, drew his sword from its sheath, and thrust it toward Qiao Mo’s back.

“Young Master, be careful—” The driver struggled to raise his head and shouted.

Qiao Mo stumbled and fell to the ground, just avoiding the long sword.

The assassin changed his stance, raising the sword to thrust at Qiao Mo lying on the ground.

“Be careful, Young Master!” The driver watched in terror, shouting hoarsely.

The sword thrust down, Qiao Mo rolled away, the sword tip pierced the ground, raising clouds of dust, then was pulled out again to continue stabbing at him.

Qiao Mo was blinded by the dust and couldn’t see the direction of the sword, only feeling a chill descending over him.

Seeing the gleaming sword thrusting straight at Qiao Mo’s heart, the driver was already scared senseless and shouted: “Young Master—”

The old driver closed his eyes. After waiting a moment without hearing screams, he instead heard the sound of metal clashing. He carefully opened his eyes to see an ordinary-looking young man fighting intensely with the gray-clothed man wearing the veiled hat, their blades flashing in a chilling display.

The old driver got up, secretly took a deep breath to encourage himself, keeping one eye on the two men fighting fiercely while tiptoeing in that direction. With great difficulty, he reached Qiao Mo’s side, and seeing that the two men were too busy to pay attention to them, he dragged Qiao Mo away.