Ji Yanqing took a short dagger and held it before Zhang Zhaoyuan.
“Lieutenant Zhang, proceed,” he said.
Kneeling, Zhang Zhaoyuan’s pupils shook, sweat dripping to the floor as his trembling hands took the dagger.
“Your Highness, Hongyuan’s my brother…” he pleaded.
“Law is law, and military justice is merciless. If you wish to invoke General Guide’s name, even I can’t help,” Ji Yanqing said coolly.
“Brother, save me! You have to save me!” Zhang Hongyuan wailed, held down by two armored soldiers.
Amid the clamor, the missing black iron was brought to the hall’s front.
Exactly four hundred jin, no more, no less.
Black iron was a strictly controlled military resource. Though noble clans dealt in it, they needed imperial approval.
Royal monopolies and land taxes were the wealth noble clans relied on, enduring for centuries.
Faced with undeniable proof, Zhang Zhaoyuan bit his lip until it bled, barely standing. The dagger slipped from his hand.
“Hongyuan, what would Father do if he were here?” he asked.
“Father? He’d slaughter me!” Hongyuan cried.
Zhang Zhaoyuan nodded faintly, grabbed a wine jug from the table, and chugged. His fingers clenched, veins bulging.
With a swish, he unwrapped his silver-flowing spear, its razor-sharp tip gleaming brilliantly.
A flick of his wrist, a surge from his waist, and the two-hundred-jin spear shot like an arrow, air roaring violently.
It hurtled toward Zhang Hongyuan.
Boom!
A thunderous crash shook the room.
The steel tip pierced Hongyuan’s right shoulder, embedding deep into the wall. Torn muscle, blood-soaked clothes, and shattered bone fragments stood stark.
The grievous wound knocked Hongyuan out, his face deathly pale, lifeless.
Half an inch left, and he’d be dead.
“Your Highness, I can’t do it…” Zhang Zhaoyuan stammered.
“My brother’s reckless actions broke military law. It’s my failure as his elder. I offer my lieutenant’s rank to spare his life,” he said, kneeling and kowtowing earnestly.
Ji Yanqing took a deep breath, stepping to the silver-helmed general’s side, saying coldly, “Effective immediately, Guoyi Lieutenant Zhang Zhaoyuan is stripped of all ranks and confined to his residence until I decide further.”
With that, he pulled Ji Qingyan from the Ma mansion.
Stunned by the scene, Heroine Ji’s mind was blank. She couldn’t fathom the carefree Wei King’s Heir showing such ruthless eyes, letting him lead her like a wooden doll.
Ye City’s Chou hour sky was pristine, clear as if freshly washed.
A chilly autumn breeze whistled past. From the quiet street’s distance came a green-skirted girl, her face delicate, her figure graceful.
Such a woman, at such a time and place, was practically bait for ruffians.
In fact, she’d been cornered by burly thugs in alleys multiple times, nearly violated.
The result? The crisp sound of shattered skulls.
As a Xiao clan assassin raised in their underground palace, Tongyue had killed since age eight, slashing throats with clean precision.
Her last kill was a pedophile gang leader—a beast who deserved it. Men, lust-driven, had pitifully low guard; he didn’t even notice the blade between her fingers.
His death was his own fault.
Living by the blade was grueling—slaughtering tyrants today, upright officials tomorrow.
Any Xiao clan enemy was her target.
How many had she killed? Tongyue’s memory blurred, but no matter—it’s not like anyone counts their meals.
Perhaps tired of killing, or simply seeking death, she volunteered to monitor and assassinate the Wei King’s Heir.
The first task was easy, thanks to informants. Releasing a pigeon in the suburbs sufficed, conveniently masked by Miss Su’s monthly temple visits for her father.
The second was near impossible. Ji Yanqing was surrounded by hounds, paranoia etched on his brow.
Even at brothels, he had guards at the door. Ye City crawled with Wei King’s Mansion spies, ever vigilant.
If she struck at the Heir, death was certain.
Yet, when the time came to die, Tongyue wavered. She’d found meaning in life—a light named Su Ningyue, a girl pure as a spring.
Weiyuan Escort Agency, to an assassin like Tongyue, was paradise. No scheming, no hidden blades—just honest toil and laughter.
But days ago, a failed assassination ended it all abruptly.
The Wei King’s hounds sniffed her out. Ji Yanqing had amassed countless retainers—Radiant Sun and Qian Yuan experts galore—watching Weiyuan’s every move.
Tongyue was certain the mysterious “Master Qi Shu” was Ji Yanqing’s confidant, drawn to Miss Su’s beauty and fishing for her, the big catch.
Her gut screamed: leave now, or never leave.
Snapping back, a bone-chilling dread hit her, like plunging into an ice pit.
Looking up, a black-robed elder stood on a rooftop, gazing down with the oppressive aura of a Transformation Realm master.
“I’m Tongyue. May I ask who you are?” she said.
“Wei army’s chief strategist, Mo Pang,” he replied.
A flash of fear crossed Tongyue’s starry eyes, but she said softly, “Mr. Mo, your title as Little Poison Saint is renowned. I’m in awe.”
“A nickname from idle martial folk—means nothing,” he said.
Instantly, Tongyue burned her qi and blood, sprinting toward Ye City’s suburbs.
A Qian Yuan assassin facing Mo Pang, a Transformation Realm master for twenty years, had no chance head-on.
Flight was her only option.
But as she moved, two wrist-thick black iron chains shot from the shadows, fast and aimed at her vitals.
Cursing inwardly, Tongyue twisted mid-air with an Earth-tier technique, barely dodging.
“Gan brothers, Purple Plume Pavilion’s top assassins,” she muttered.
Before she could steady herself, the chains writhed like black snakes, sealing all escape routes.
Tongyue slashed with her hand like a blade, her qi forming a edge as sharp as steel, but the chains merely quivered, binding her tightly, immobile.
Sky-tier technique: Nine Locks Binding Dragon!
“I advise you, Miss Tongyue, to cease pointless resistance. These chains, forged from Southern Border black iron, are incredibly tough. No ordinary cultivator can break free,” a voice said.
“My friend Heroine Ji here knows that well,” added a youth on the Night-Illuminating Jade Lion, his tone gentle under the cold moonlight.
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