Arrows flew in unison. Seeing Pei Xiao completely motionless, Li Buyan had no choice but to leap up. Her hands flew rapidly in a flurry, knocking most of the arrows to the ground.

Two arrows grazed Pei Xiao’s face and embedded in the carriage wheel.

She landed steadily while grabbing Pei Xiao by the back collar, forcefully hurling him toward Third Master’s direction, then immediately somersaulted onto the carriage and kicked the already-dead driver off with one foot.

“Your Highness, hold tight.”

Li Buyan cracked the reins. The carriage wheel rolled over corpses as it raced through the rain.

Pei Xiao scrambled up from the ground, shouting without thinking:

“Li Buyan, you damned well better be careful.”

Li Buyan drove the carriage through two alleys and immediately discovered something wrong.

On the ground, aside from piles of corpses, there wasn’t a single Imperial Guard or personal guard.

Where was everyone?

Where had everyone gone?

How could she know that Prince Han’s second killing move was using his two battalions of troops in the capital to cut off support coming from all directions?

Another battalion went straight to attack the Crown Prince’s palace.

At this moment, anyone else would be paralyzed with fear, but Li Buyan remained completely calm.

Third Master had told her—Prince Han’s assassination aimed for one decisive strike.

If that strike failed, as long as they could hold out for half the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, massive numbers of the Emperor’s and Crown Prince’s personal guards would arrive upon hearing the news.

Moreover, the Imperial Guards would arrive even earlier.

She turned to glance inside the carriage.

“Your Highness, if there’s commotion outside shortly, stay obediently in the carriage. Count from one to one hundred. After one hundred, we’ll be saved.”

“Li Buyan, you…”

“Shut up. They’re here.”

Another dozen or so black-clothed figures dropped down from walls.

Li Buyan reined in the horse and stopped the carriage steadily, drew her soft sword, and leapt up to meet them.

Calm, swift, no hesitation.

“Miss Li, you take the front, I’ll take the rear.”

Shen Chong’s voice called from afar. Li Buyan struck with her sword while smiling at the person in the carriage. “Your Highness, this rescuer doesn’t count. Start counting.”

Inside the carriage.

Zhao Yishi’s dark eyes stared fixedly at that slender figure beyond the curtain.

“One, two, three, four…”

At the count of eighteen, another familiar voice rang out. “Miss Li, I’m here.”

“Zhu Qing is one of ours—also doesn’t count as a rescuer. Keep counting.”

Li Buyan backhanded her sword thrust, with a squelch piercing through the black-clothed man’s throat behind her.

Blood sprayed out. Li Buyan wiped her face and swung her soft sword even faster.

Prince Han’s shadow guards never expected that besides Shen Chong, two more experts would suddenly appear beside the Grand Prince.

Not only did they gain no advantage—they lost four brothers in an instant.

No more time.

The two lead black-clothed men exchanged glances. Both feinted and charged straight for the carriage.

Capture the leader to capture the bandits.

Their mission today was to kill whoever was in that carriage.

At this moment, Shen Chong was engaged one-against-six, Zhu Qing one-against-four—both were entangled and couldn’t break free.

Li Buyan caught sight of this from the corner of her eye. Her sword wind suddenly accelerated as she threw herself toward the carriage.

She hurled her soft sword with all her might at one black-clothed man’s chest while her long leg swept toward the other.

“Your Highness, quickly get d…”

Her words abruptly stopped.

Li Buyan heard a “squelch.” Looking down, she saw a blood-soaked sword tip protruding from her abdomen.

Zhu Qing and Shen Chong turned their heads. Their eyes went red.

Just then, a piercing whistle sounded through the air as an arrow shot straight toward the black-clothed man before Li Buyan.

Squelch—

One arrow through the heart!

Reinforcements had finally arrived.

Li Buyan’s legs buckled as she knelt on the ground, pressing her hand against her abdomen as blood continuously gushed out.

The carriage curtain swept aside with a whoosh. Zhao Yishi in red wedding robes jumped down from the carriage.

“Li Buyan?”

Li Buyan gasped roughly several times, then looked up at him with a faint smile. “What number did you reach?”

Zhao Yishi supported her back, his voice trembling. “Ninety-nine.”

“Didn’t I tell you right? The rescuer came.”

Her face showed a ghastly pallor from blood loss, her voice weakening, yet her smile deepened.

“Congratulations, Zhao Yishi.”

Zhao Yishi’s heart suddenly ached.

Everything around him rapidly vanished from before his eyes—only this woman before him remained, along with the dark red blood continuously flowing from her lower abdomen.

…

In Prince Han’s residence amidst light rain, everything seemed very quiet.

Dong Xiao checked the time, rose, and took a black cloth from a trunk, carefully wrapping the seven-string zither on the table.

He wrapped it very carefully, not missing any corners or edges, then slung the zither on his back and walked out slowly.

When he was young, he often carried the zither on his back, following his master while herding and learning the instrument.

Back then, the sky was very blue, the clouds very white, and he was very small.

The zither stood half a head taller than him.

Master often said the zither has seven strings—one string, one note. Connected together, they form melodies.

Melodies arise from the heart.

Melodies move with the heart.

When you’re happy, the melody is happy. When you’re sad, the zither’s sound is also sad. So each string you pluck is actually plucking your own heart.

Unfortunately, most people in this world only hear the melody. They can’t hear your heart.

Those who can hear your heart are kindred spirits.

“Bullshit kindred spirits!”

Dong Xiao muttered lowly, smiled self-mockingly, and strode out.

The weakest guarded spot in Prince Han’s residence was a small gate on the right side.

This gate stayed closed year-round, only occasionally opening during festivals.

The gatekeeper was an old man surnamed Liu, named Yi. This person had three meals a day, never without alcohol. After drinking, he’d sleep soundly—even thunder couldn’t wake him.

Liu Yi could keep the gate because he’d secretly arranged it, just for the day when he could swagger out of this palace.

Perhaps heaven blessed him—in the rain, he encountered no one along the way.

Entering the gatehouse, he pulled keys from the drunk’s waistband, unlocked the gate, then hung the keys back.

Walking out the small gate, Dong Xiao turned left, his steps quickening.

Left turn, right turn. At the alley’s end stood a large compound. No one knew this compound had been purchased by him many years ago.

He’d bought this compound because it sat beside the moat, very near the capital’s underground waterways.

He only needed to enter the compound, jump down a dry well, follow that well’s secret passage to the moat’s edge, and when no one was around, slip into the waterway. Following that waterway outward for over ten miles, he’d safely reach outside the capital.

This was his escape route.

And rainy weather added another layer of safety to his escape.

Dong Xiao felt pleased, couldn’t help whistling. After whistling, something felt wrong—as if something was following behind.

He whirled around sharply. Before seeing clearly what it was, he felt a heavy blow to the back of his neck and lost consciousness.

“Got him.”

Ding Yi and Huang Qi exchanged glances.

One carried the person, one took the zither, and they raced down the cobblestone road.

At the alley’s end, a carriage waited. Inside sat Second Master Zhu, Zhu Yuanzhao.

Ding Yi dumped the person into the carriage. Huang Qi tossed in the zither. Zhu Yuanzhao immediately covered them thoroughly with prepared bedding.

One person, one zither—tightly concealed.

“Hyah—”

Second Master’s personal servant Chen Yan cracked the whip. The carriage headed toward the South Gate.

All this happened so fast it was hard to believe one’s eyes.

Half an hour later, the carriage reached the South Gate.

At this moment, the gate still stood open. Clearly, news of the Grand Prince’s assassination hadn’t reached here yet.

No one blocked them. The carriage drove straight out of the city.

Fifteen miles outside the city, Zhu Yuanzhao lifted the curtain and called out, “Find a secluded spot. This master needs to relieve himself.”

The carriage followed a slope road into dense forest, where another carriage already waited deep within.

The person standing under an umbrella at the carriage’s head was none other than Yan Sanhe.