Among the Eight Scenic Views of Chang’an, the Evening Glow of Mount Li had always been a famous sight of Guanzhong. Whenever the sun set in the west, reflecting its light back, then refracting again, the pavilions and halls, cliff walls and secluded valleys, dark pines and green cypresses seemed covered in golden light, each displaying different colors. The scenery was extraordinarily magnificent—not even an inch of land could be obtained without being a wealthy family.
The estate of Zhang Liang, Grand Master of Splendid Happiness with Golden Seal and Purple Ribbon, Duke of Yun Prefecture, and Governor of Xiang Prefecture, was located here. His enormous merit in never betraying Prince of Qin Li Er even under severe torture and harsh laws had enabled him to possess this three-hundred-acre estate in the most beautiful part of Guanzhong. Zhang Liang’s elderly mother, wife, and children all resided here. A dispute with the Yun Family two years ago had greatly damaged the Zhang Family’s vitality. The grand mansion in the capital no longer had its former glory. The numerous adopted sons either followed the army or were dismissed. Now with Zhang Liang far away in Xiang Prefecture, the family naturally no longer had its former arrogant and domineering air. Without important matters, the Zhang Family’s women and children wouldn’t even step foot into Chang’an.
The setting sun dyed the forests red. When the last trace of brightness quietly disappeared, only dark mountain ridges surrounded them, overlooking the Zhang Family’s scattered lights.
Tonight Zhang Fu had drunk a little wine. Carrying his slightly tipsy mood, he locked the courtyard gates one by one. Finally, he came to the Buddhist hall. The old lady had been restless these past days, always sleeping poorly. Until everyone in the household had settled for the night, she wouldn’t sleep.
Pushing open the door to the Buddhist hall, the old lady was still kneeling before the Buddha praying. Zhang Fu didn’t dare disturb her. He placed the keys in his hand on the small table in the hall and bowed, preparing to withdraw.
“Ah Fu, have all the courtyard gates been locked?”
“Reporting to the old lady, this old servant personally locked all the courtyard gates, not missing a single one. It’s late—the old lady should retire early.”
“These past days I’ve been constantly restless, as if some great event is about to occur. Liang’er went from the frontier wastes to Xiang Prefecture—it’s precisely the time for loyal and diligent service to the throne. The family absolutely cannot have the slightest mistake, otherwise it will disturb his peace of mind. Regaining imperial favor is what Liang’er dreams of now. At this critical juncture, there can be no errors. Tomorrow, convey my words and tell everyone in the Zhang Family that starting tomorrow, they are not to step one foot outside the mansion gates.”
Hearing the old lady’s words, Zhang Fu felt somewhat gloomy. When the master was in Chang’an in the past, how prominent the Zhang Family had been—the gates were thronged with visitors, high officials and distinguished nobles calling continuously. Who could have imagined that today Zhang Family members wouldn’t even dare easily cross the main gate? Since Yun Ye returned victorious from Liaodong, the Zhang Family’s days had become increasingly difficult. The nobles who used to visit frequently now all regarded the Zhang Family like a plague. It was said that the third young master’s marriage proposal had already been discussed and settled, lacking only the written agreement, yet now the other family absolutely refused to mention the matter. When the old lady went to their house twice preparing to raise the marriage proposal again, she couldn’t meet them because the master was supposedly ill.
Only at this point did the old lady realize her son had offended not just Yun Ye alone—he had offended nearly all the noble families.
Zhang Fu held a lantern for the old lady, escorting her back to the rear courtyard. Watching the maids help the old lady into her room, only then did he leave, preparing to return to the servants’ quarters to sleep.
Living at the foot of Mount Li was good, but once night fell, there were too many various insects and mosquitoes, attracting swarms of flying bats—so annoying. Now the entire courtyard was full of bats. Through the dim light, one could even see the bats’ ugly faces.
Passing by the second gate, he went over to check the lock again. Seeing the gate was securely locked, only then did he feel relieved. Suddenly he felt someone behind him. When he turned around, a snow-bright blade light came slashing down diagonally…
His throat gurgled as blood foam bubbled out. As he fell backward, he saw countless black-clothed figures like bats scaling the walls and killing their way into the inner courtyard. The high courtyard walls couldn’t stop them at all.
These people were very experienced—moving swiftly yet their footsteps made no sound. Two people per room—short blades flipped open door bars. Before the women and children’s panicked voices could rise, blades fell. Only one or two sounds of steel knives cutting into bone were heard, then silence.
Zhang Liang’s third son, Zhang Judao, was also a fierce battlefield general. As two black-clothed men who had just entered his room were about to raise their blades, a blanket came flying at their faces. When they pushed aside the blanket, they heard a great roar as a heavy clothing rack came smashing horizontally at their heads, splattering brain matter everywhere.
Zhang Judao picked up the two long blades from the black-clothed men and roared as he charged out of the room. Seeing many black-clothed figures swarming in, then looking at how silent his own family members were, he knew things were already more dire than not. Eyes red, he swung the long blades and killed into the crowd of black-clothed men. The sweeping mounted combat techniques developed on the battlefield made him unstoppable for a time—wherever the long blade passed, blood and flesh flew.
A man standing on the wall with five blades on his back coldly watched him. When Zhang Judao broke through the crowd again, preparing to kill his way to the main chambers, the man leaped down from the wall. At the same time, two long blades spinning with the sound of wind flew toward Zhang Judao.
Zhang Judao’s long blade struck left and right but hadn’t yet touched those two blades when a third long blade was already before his eyes. He decisively threw down the long blade, bent over, and prostrated himself on the ground. Three blades flew past, grazing his spine. A black-clothed figure seeing an opportunity thrust his blade down. Zhang Judao grabbed a corpse and blocked it in front—the blade tip pierced through the body, sweeping past his throat. Taking advantage of the blade being stuck in the corpse, he released it, grabbed the black-clothed man’s ankle, and without even standing up, had already swung the black-clothed man around, barely blocking the other assassins’ attacks.
Hearing the agonized screams of the Zhang Family’s women and children in his ears, Zhang Judao shouted loudly and pounced like a mad tiger toward the leading black-clothed man. The black-clothed man holding two blades casually struck one blow, cleaving the black-clothed man in his hands into two halves. Foul blood and internal organs drenched Zhang Judao’s head. Before he could retreat, he took a blade to the ribs. Spinning to try to evade, his thigh, arm, back, chest, and abdomen continuously took blade strikes. By the time he fell to the ground, he didn’t know how many cuts he’d suffered—blood flowed from his entire body.
Looking at the black-clothed man’s clear eyes, Zhang Judao asked with difficulty: “Why?”
The black-clothed man said nothing, ruthlessly thrusting a blade into his chest.
The various sounds in the courtyard gradually diminished, slowly becoming silent. The black-clothed leader took an iron token from his chest and stuffed it into Zhang Judao’s hand, then waved. The remaining black-clothed figures wrapped their fallen comrades in oilcloth, including the corpse cleaved in half, broke open the courtyard gate, left the Zhang residence, and treading on moonlight, melted into the boundless darkness…
Cen Wenben was in his study reviewing memorials to present to the emperor at tomorrow’s morning court. It shouldn’t have taken this late, but the five Japanese students living at his home were so studious they had continuously asked him about learning for two full hours. This made him feel both pained and gratified—such students were rarely seen anymore.
The Cen Family resided in Chang’an City. The dwelling wasn’t large. With his wife and children far away in Luoyang and not by his side, the household had only four or five disciples, an old servant, and a cook. The Japanese students also temporarily lived at home. After finding suitable lodging, they would move out. Cen Wenben was very satisfied with these hardworking, diligent students.
The door was gently knocked. Cen Wenben called out for them to enter. He saw the Japanese student called Yatsube Tanemaro carrying a teapot, entering and bowing to him, replacing the long-cold tea on the table. After bowing again, he lifted the cold tea, preparing to leave.
“Tanemaro, you don’t need to do these things in the future. Old Du can do them. You crossed the seas to seek learning—not easily done. Put more thought into your studies. Your teacher isn’t so old he can’t move yet.”
Tanemaro knelt down and kowtowed: “Don’t Great Tang students all say ‘A teacher for a day, a father for life’? Because of us, teacher still hasn’t had rest until now—this is our fault. Serving teacher is proper.”
Cen Wenben was about to speak when he saw a black-clothed figure crash headlong into the study. Upon seeing Cen Wenben, a blade came chopping down at his head. Tanemaro, who had just stood up, shouted loudly and threw himself onto Cen Wenben. His own back was heavily struck by the blade. Tanemaro pushed Cen Wenben down. Before the black-clothed man could raise his blade again, Tanemaro wrapped his arms around the man’s waist and pushed him toward the study exit. The black-clothed man’s blade couldn’t reach Tanemaro, so he bent his arm and repeatedly pounded his elbow into Tanemaro’s back. Fresh blood splattered everywhere, yet Tanemaro still made no sound, striving to push the black-clothed man out of the study. He himself fell powerlessly on the threshold, still clutching one of the assassin’s legs without releasing.
The black-clothed man raised his long blade, preparing to sever the arms of Tanemaro clutching his leg, when he heard Old Du in the courtyard shouting “Catch the assassin!” The black-clothed man startled, thrust a blade into Tanemaro’s shoulder. Seeing him release his grip, with no time to kill, he hurriedly ran toward the courtyard.
Cen Wenben’s disciples all ran out. The Japanese disciples bravely lunged at the black-clothed man, wanting to catch the assassin. Who could have expected the black-clothed man’s viciousness to erupt—he severed one Japanese student’s head and cut down another Japanese student, then leaped onto the wall. Even from the wall, he threw his long blade, wanting to stab Cen Wenben, who was holding Tanemaro in sorrowful anguish. Old Du swung a pole in a full arc and knocked the long blade away. Only then did the black-clothed man leap down from the wall and disappear.
Chaotic gong sounds rang out in the streets. The night-patrolling military commissioners were like startled donkeys, running everywhere. By the time they opened the ward gates and rushed into the Cen residence, the Cen household was filled with wails. Tanemaro’s back wound was severe—when wound medicine was sprinkled on, it was immediately washed away by flowing blood. Cen Wenben looked at the barely breathing Tanemaro, then at another Japanese student’s wound deep to the bone, and finally embraced the severed head of the Japanese student, pounding his chest and howling at the heavens.
Chang’an City immediately began a massive search for the assassins. The assassins appeared and disappeared, finally vanishing into the pear orchards of Xinghua Ward, never to be seen again.
At the fourth watch, even the moon seemed unable to bear watching these human tragedies and hid in the clouds. Before long, a fine drizzle began to fall. On the pitch-black official road, two swift horses galloped forth. After being hoisted up the city wall in baskets by gate officials, they changed horses. One rider galloped toward the imperial city, one rider toward Zhang Liang’s home in Chang’an City.
At the same time, a small swift boat with sails fully raised, faster than galloping horses, sailed downstream with the current.