A command of “Release arrows!” rang out, followed by the whistle of dozens of arrows.

Without Li Yuangui as a human shield, Qibi Luo and his men were nothing but living targets. At such close range, they had no chance of survival. Li Yuangui didn’t bother to watch their fate, shouting for the palace guards to cut his bonds before jumping up and rushing into the watchtower.

The first floor was empty—Sang Sai had indeed escaped. The second floor still held only the corpses of the guards. Li Yuangui grabbed a sword and charged straight up the wooden ladder, climbing desperately with both hands and feet.

His heart burning with anxiety, halfway up he heard guards below shouting “Fourteenth Lord… armor…” but how could he spare time to go back down and don protective gear? He knew Tuyuhun death-sworn warriors were stationed on the third-floor platform, fully armed with bows, crossbows, and weapons, ready to shoot him through the ladder opening at any moment, but he couldn’t care less.

That scream from the tower top just now—whether it came from Chai Yinglu or Wei Shubin—would haunt him for life if anything happened to them.

With a final push from his legs at the ladder top, Li Yuangui burst through the platform opening, sword raised to protect his head and face as he rolled onto the ground. The bitter cold wind stabbed at his entire body like countless ice needles.

He heard another woman’s scream, hoarse with terror and near breakdown. Looking up, on the northern side of the platform, two women with disheveled hair clung together, looking as wretched as ghosts, but—they were both alive.

Li Yuangui let out a long breath, his whole body suddenly weak, almost collapsing to the ground. But this wasn’t time to relax, he reminded himself, struggling to his feet and staggering to the women’s side with his sword raised:

“Yingniang! A’fen!”

Up close, he could see both women were bloodied, Wei Shubin especially horrifying with blood covering her head and face. Chai Yinglu remained relatively calm, nodding and calling “Fourteenth Uncle,” while Wei Shubin couldn’t speak at all, opening her mouth before burying her face in the Daoist priestess’s shoulder and bursting into tears.

“Are you injured?” Li Yuangui asked urgently.

“We’re fine.” Chai Yinglu sighed, “A’fen is just frightened. This was her first time killing someone.”

Kill… killing someone?

Li Yuangui only then noticed a corpse lying beside the women—a large black-clad, masked figure, one of the death-sworn warriors Sang Sai had left on the platform. South of the ladder opening lay another dead black-clad figure, motionless and face-up. Besides these, there was no one else on the platform… but something seemed missing.

“Where’s Lady Yin?” Li Yuangui asked, “Where did that wretch go?”

As soon as he spoke, he understood—the long scream he’d heard from below must have been Consort Yin De’s death cry.

Chai Yinglu collected herself and described the dangerous events on the platform. After the palace guards surrounded the tower, while Sang Sai and Qibi Luo were using Li Yuangui as a hostage, they also sent men up to the third floor to deal with the women and control the high ground. As soon as the man climbed up, he immediately grabbed Consort Yin De and threw her over the railing, then went for Chai Yinglu.

The man had underestimated the Daoist priestess’s martial skills. When Chai Yinglu saw him kill the consort, she guessed she was next and didn’t wait for him to act—she launched herself at him first. Her only weapon was the dagger Li Yuangui had secretly given her earlier; small and light, it would only be useful in close combat.

These Hu death-sworn warriors had severely underestimated women’s fighting ability. Despite having a sword at his waist, he couldn’t be bothered to draw it, and the crossbow in his hands was useless in close combat, more of a hindrance. Moreover, he didn’t know Chai Yinglu had a blade. After some rough pushing, the Daoist priestess seized her chance and drove the dagger into his chest.

That wasn’t the end. Just as the struggle began, the Hu warrior who had been shooting from the platform edge noticed and turned, raising his crossbow to support his companion. But Chai Yinglu was grappling too tightly with her opponent, their bodies pressed together, making it likely an arrow would hit his comrade.

The sentry cursed, lowered his crossbow, drew his sword, and rushed over to help. But he’d forgotten about Wei Shubin lying on the ground from her earlier fall. The platform wasn’t large, and before he could take two steps, his right leg was caught—Wei Shubin desperately hugging it—causing the large man to stumble, nearly falling flat.

The sentry cursed loudly, trying unsuccessfully to shake his leg free, and swung his sword at Wei Shubin’s head. The Prime Minister’s daughter had no means of defense, closing her eyes to await death, but still refusing to release her grip on his right leg.

Shouts and footsteps rang out ahead. Chai Yinglu’s dagger had struck her opponent’s heart, and she couldn’t waste a moment. Unable to quickly pull the blade from flesh and blood, she took advantage of the large man’s rigid body to grab his sword hilt, draw it, push his body away, and charge at the sentry with the blade raised.

Seeing she’d killed his companion and was coming fiercely, the sentry temporarily forgot about Wei Shubin, raising his sword to meet the threat. Chai Yinglu knew she was physically weaker and hoped to use her running momentum for a fatal strike, just as she’d killed the first black-clad man. But her opponent was a strong man who had set his defensive stance—when their blades met—

With a loud clash, the Daoist priestess’s sword flew from her hand, her grip stinging violently as her body flew like a broken kite to crash against a wooden pillar supporting the thatched roof, feeling as if every bone had shattered.

At that same moment, Wei Shubin forcefully drove a crossbow bolt into the black-clad assassin’s thigh.

She had kept her grip on the sentry’s right leg, having no weapons herself, originally waiting helplessly for death. But in her daze, something kept hitting the top of her head. Looking up, she discovered it was the hu lu (arrow quiver) hanging from his belt, with three to five crossbow bolt feathers visible at the opening, just within her reach.

Without thinking, she pulled out a bolt and, channeling all her remaining strength into her right arm, drove the cold glinting arrowhead into the black-clad man’s thigh.

She wasn’t sure if the arrowhead had penetrated flesh, as the shaft quickly snapped. But a howl of shock and pain immediately came from above, followed by hot liquid pouring down on her head… After that, Wei Shubin must have fainted for a while, coming to Chai Yinglu’s embrace.

She cried for a while, her emotions gradually stabilizing as she helped Chai Yinglu recount their incredible danger and luck. It truly was incredible luck—Li Yuangui kept looking back at the corpses on the platform, unable to believe these two delicate beauties had killed two huge men with their own hands.

Although Consort Yin De’s unexpected death meant their night’s risky endeavors were almost wasted, that loss was negligible in comparison. These two women being safe and sound was more important than anything, Li Yuangui thought, feeling an inexplicable tightness in his nose.

But there was still another woman… his seventeenth sister, how was she now? Had she also been safely rescued?

As the three talked on the platform, the eastern sky gradually began to lighten without their notice. The ink-blue night curtain washed away in succession to deep blue, purple-gray, light blue, and moonlight white. Clouds stretched and rolled as orange dawn spilled forth, and the morning sun danced behind the curved peaks of the Southern Mountains.

Distant, lingering sounds of bells and drums faintly carried from the southeast.

Chang’an’s night curfew had ended. After the bells and drums of the Shuntian Gate tower rang, the street drums inside and outside the palace city began beating in unison, awakening the drowsy capital. The bell and drum sounds floating across the forbidden garden to reach the Great Peace Palace watchtower were very faint, as if from an unreal dream.

Palace guards bustled about the tower dealing with the aftermath, while the three stayed put, uninvolved. They were too exhausted—even turning their heads felt like torture.

But they couldn’t sit endlessly atop the tower gazing at sunrise, fantasizing about immediate transcendence to immortality.

“Your Highness, Prince of Wu.”

A palace guard came up to the platform and carefully reported:

“The Crown Prince has arrived at Great Peace Palace and summons the Prince of Wu for an audience.”

Note: The “hu lu” (arrow quiver) worn at the waist by the black-clad assassins can be seen in the “Guard Detail from the Tomb of Crown Prince Yide of Tang” mural. The guards wear their ceremonial swords on their left hip for easy drawing with the right hand. Unstrung longbows are carried in leather bow cases also on the left hip, while the larger hu lu hangs on the right hip. In the mural, the guards are in ceremonial settings rather than actual combat, so for safety the quivers are empty with open caps and adorably large fur tassels…