Chapter 128: The Assassination

The sun was setting.

Two riders galloped like the wind. Having passed the last inn, neither Qin Cheng nor Qin Qingzhi had stopped to rest or eat, both driven by the urgent need to arrive as early as possible. As the post road wound into the mountains, the path became flanked by dense woods and hillsides.

In the shadows cast by the setting sun, the road grew dim. Aside from the rhythmic thud of hooves, Qin Cheng and Qin Qingzhi could hear only their own heavy breathing and pounding hearts. This stretch of road was shielded from the sunset, and the north wind felt piercingly cold here. With sweat coating their faces, the wind bit into their skin like a blade, making it difficult for them to keep their eyes open.

Suddenly, for no apparent reason, Qin Cheng felt his heart tighten. A momentary, inexplicable tremor of panic seized him. The instinct for danger, honed through countless ambushes and assassinations in his past life as a gang member, flared up. Qin Cheng scanned the road ahead.

It was quiet; there were no travelers. This section of the road was desolate, far from any village or inn, so the absence of people was not unusual for this hour.

"Stop!" Qin Cheng commanded, signaling for Qin Qingzhi to halt, while he began to scrutinize the surroundings.

"General, what is it?" Qin Qingzhi asked, pulling on his reins.

Qin Cheng did not answer, but his intuition grew sharper. His past experience told him it was death to proceed. Yet, this was the only path; there was no detour. Furthermore, they were under extreme pressure to reach Shanggu without delay.

Their horses seized the rare pause to heave, their hot breath forming white mist in the cold air. Qin Cheng stopped observing the scenery and placed his hand on the hilt of his ring-pommel saber. Though Qin Qingzhi did not understand the cause for alarm, he mimicked the action.

*Whoosh!* Several iron-tipped arrows hissed through the air, flying from the dense woods straight toward them.

"Kill!" A shout rang out. A rustling explosion erupted from the woods on both sides of the road, and over a dozen figures emerged, charging toward them.

These men wore green robes and brandished long sabers. They had appeared thirty paces ahead. As the foot soldiers surged forth, several more riders emerged from the forest on horseback, closing in on the pair.

The foot soldiers split into two groups: one moved to the rear to cut off their retreat, while the other charged from the sides of the road. The thirty-pace distance was covered in a blink.

Back to back, Qin Cheng and Qin Qingzhi brandished their sabers, batting away the iron arrows. Because the arrows had been fired from a distance, they had lost most of their momentum by the time they reached them, making them relatively easy to deflect. It was clear, however, that the archers never intended to kill them with arrows alone; their goal was to pin the two men down, preventing their retreat and giving the green-robed swordsmen time to encircle them.

After a few volleys, the swordsmen were in position, and the retreat was cut off. The foot soldiers, however, did not rush to engage the mounted men. Instead, the horsemen who had emerged from the woods charged forward.

Qin Cheng never had any intention of retreating. He had no time for scorn; he simply barked a "Go!" at Qin Qingzhi, dug his heels into his horse’s flanks, and charged directly at the approaching riders, ignoring the foot soldiers waiting on the periphery. He had waited until the horsemen moved to ensure no tripwires were hidden in the road—charging blindly into a trap would have been suicide.

Neither Qin Cheng nor Qin Qingzhi feared anyone in mounted combat. Their experience fighting the Xiongnu had given these elite cavalrymen more than enough confidence.

"Cut them down!" the leader of the riders shouted, pointing his blade at Qin Cheng before swinging it down.

Qin Cheng’s eyes were cold. As he neared the leader, he leaned back, dodging the horizontal slash, and swept his own saber in an arc, slicing into the man’s abdomen. The rider was not unskilled, but mounted combat was not his strength. As his saber missed, he knew he was finished. A cold sensation pierced his belly, followed instantly by overwhelming agony.

With a single strike, Qin Cheng disemboweled the leader. The blade entered from the front and exited the back, effectively severing the man’s torso; blood and viscera sprayed like water.

Having dispatched the leader, Qin Cheng used the momentum to parry the strike of another attacker, the sheer force of the blow jarring the man’s arm and nearly disarming him. As they brushed past each other, the rider, having felt the raw power of Qin Cheng’s blow, felt a flicker of relief that he had survived the pass. But before he could breathe, Qin Qingzhi, following close behind, took advantage of the rider's overextended guard and slashed across his neck, sending his head flying.

The blood spraying from the severed neck looked like snowflakes, and the look of shock remained frozen on the man’s face.

Another saber came within three inches of Qin Cheng’s face, but its owner could move it no further—Qin Cheng had severed the man’s arm at the shoulder. As blood splattered his face, Qin Cheng tilted his head, dodging the blade that flew off along with the arm. The man let out a shrill scream of terror, but before it could finish, Qin Qingzhi’s saber cut through his shoulder and skull, silencing him instantly.

Qin Cheng’s horse galloped through the line of riders, carrying him toward a breakthrough.

When only one rider remained, Qin Cheng slammed his saber against the man’s blade, using his experience to knock the weapon from the rider’s grip, and followed through with a horizontal slash that opened the man’s throat.

Having broken through the line of riders, Qin Cheng knew nothing could stop him now. He did not know who wanted him dead, but if he survived today, there would be a day of reckoning.

Suddenly, a miserable horse-neigh sounded behind him, followed by a grunt. Realizing something had gone wrong, Qin Cheng immediately wheeled his horse around.

As Qin Qingzhi was about to clear the formation, a foot soldier had slashed the tendons of his horse’s hind legs. Qin Qingzhi lost his balance and tumbled to the ground. He knew he was in a dire situation, but without a second thought, he rolled across the ground, shouted "General, go!" to Qin Cheng, and rose to meet the green-robed soldier who had ambushed him.

By the time Qin Cheng turned back, Qin Qingzhi had already gutted one attacker. However, over a dozen foot soldiers were swarming toward him, and the two surviving horsemen had turned back as well.

Qin Qingzhi slew the man who had crippled him, knowing he had already extracted his price. He roared, unafraid of the two attackers closing in. He sidestepped, parried a strike from the left, and in the opening, slashed a deep, bloody trough across the attacker’s chest.

At the same time, the attacker on the right reached him. Qin Qingzhi had no strength left to dodge. From the moment he had made his desperate choice, he only wanted to take one more down with him. Seeing the man’s blade about to strike, Qin Qingzhi smiled triumphantly. He knew that the moment the blade pierced his body would be the moment he claimed his last kill.

*Clang!* Qin Qingzhi watched as the blade—just inches from his body—was knocked away. His pupils contracted; he did not hesitate, swinging his saber back to decapitate the now-unarmed attacker.

Qin Cheng, having deflected the blade, charged into the dozen foot soldiers. With every rise and fall of his saber, men were either driven back or cut down.

Cavalry versus infantry—the advantage was absolute.

Qin Cheng circled the road, hacking and slashing until he had cleared a path. "Get on!" he shouted, riding past Qin Qingzhi and hauling him onto the horse.

As Qin Qingzhi climbed up, he looked back to see the two remaining mounted swordsmen closing in, their blades raised to strike.