The Peculiar Assassin

Yu Lianzhou pointed his sword forward, sweeping his gaze over Cao Douhua and his men. Suddenly, the blade more than doubled in size—then, in a bizarre twist, it snapped apart. Yet "snapped" was not quite accurate, for the sword remained connected: it broke into eight segments, but some mysterious force continued to join them, as if nine short swords were linked together.

Cao Douhua and his companions had never witnessed such a strange phenomenon; their hearts grew heavy with pressure, yet they forced themselves to give the order: "Seize him!" With that, the group charged at Yu Lianzhou.

From the very first clash, Cao Douhua and his men were astonished. Yu Lianzhou's long sword was uncanny, sometimes suddenly lengthening, sometimes bending with ease, causing the entire group much suffering. By the end, the sword had become nine short blades circling around Yu Lianzhou; they appeared to move independently, yet seemed to follow some inexplicable pattern—defensive yet offensive, strange beyond words. And Yu Lianzhou's unarmed skills were just as formidable: fists thundered like the storm, palms surged like crashing waves, each strike fierce and unyielding. His movements were even more elusive, like a falling leaf twisting in the wind—swords and blades could not touch him.

The nine short swords moved swiftly and unpredictably, making them nearly impossible to defend against. Cao Douhua tried to strike them down, but they were too small and agile; each time, his attacks missed by a hair's breadth. Once or twice could be attributed to luck, but the repeated failures made him realize just how difficult it would be to bring them down. Combined with Yu Lianzhou’s own strength, in just moments several imperial guards had lost their lives, and even more were wounded. Cao Douhua’s burden grew heavier.

Yet Yu Lianzhou felt the pressure just as keenly. These imperial guards were all skilled—individually, their strength was unremarkable in his eyes, but their combined formation was formidable, their tactics outstanding: they attacked where the enemy was weak, rotated their defense with precision. It was no exaggeration to say that ten of them could hold off a hundred, a hundred could withstand a thousand, and with Cao Douhua and Lü Zichang directing them, their coordination was unmatched.

“What a bizarre weapon—what on earth is it?” asked Zhangsun Zhi, who stood a little farther off but could still make out the scene, unable to contain his curiosity.

“I've never seen such a thing. If I were to face this man alone, I fear…” Yuchi Gong left his thought unfinished, but Zhangsun Zhi understood his meaning at once.

“Oh? Even you are no match for him?” Li Ji’an’s voice came from nearby.

Only then did Zhangsun Zhi and Yuchi Gong turn to see that the Sage had come to stand at their side. The two hurriedly dismounted and saluted.

“Sage, this place is dangerous…” Zhangsun Zhi began, but Li Ji’an raised his hand to interrupt. “No matter. If you cannot ensure my safety, it would be the same anywhere,” Li Ji’an replied nonchalantly.

“This man is truly that formidable?” Li Ji’an asked as he looked toward the fighting.

“I would not dare deceive the Sage—it is so,” Yuchi Gong replied.

Hearing this, Li Ji’an was startled. He knew well Yuchi Gong’s martial prowess—perhaps not the very best among the generals, but still among the elite. He turned to look toward the assassin, only to be greatly surprised: “What kind of weapon is that?”

“We do not know,” the two replied in unison.

By now, Yu Lianzhou had expended much of his spiritual energy, and the imperial guards seemed endless. The archers and crossbowmen had surrounded him, ready to strike. Yu Lianzhou knew well he could not escape death today. As he prepared to fight desperately for his life, a flash of red and yellow caught his eye; only then did he realize which noble he had offended, and why these “palace troops” were so formidable. At the same time, a wild thought took root in his heart—if he succeeded, he would stand just beneath one man and above all others.

“I am Yu Lianzhou! I greet the Sage! I meant no offense—may the Sage spare my life!” Yu Lianzhou called out loudly. Though he shouted thus, his hands did not cease their movements; otherwise, he would have lost his life at the hands of the bloodthirsty Cao Douhua and the imperial guards. Yet he did hold back, no longer aiming to kill with each move. The pressure on Cao Douhua and his men eased considerably.

Neither Cao Douhua, Zhangsun Zhi, nor Li Ji’an had expected such a sudden declaration.

“If that is the case, lay down your weapon and surrender; your life will be spared,” Li Ji’an commanded.

“The Sage gives his command—how could I not obey?” Yu Lianzhou was overjoyed, calling out his reply so both the Sage and his pursuers could hear. With that, he truly threw down his weapon and ceased resisting. At once, his weapon returned to its original size and scattered to the ground.

Cao Douhua breathed a deep sigh of relief; neither he nor the guards dared defy the Sage’s order, though they could not resist a measure of retribution. They struck Yu Lianzhou with the flat of their blades—he winced with pain but dared not retaliate. Cao Douhua dealt him a heavy blow to the back of the head, knocking him unconscious, but without ending his life. The guards then bound him and brought him before the Sage.

“The criminal has been captured before the Sage’s might. Please decide his fate,” Cao Douhua said, pressing the unconscious Yu Lianzhou to the ground and kneeling.

Only now did the officials get a good look at Yu Lianzhou: a young man of unremarkable dress, but with a horrific scar on his face, likely from childhood, rendering half his visage little different from decaying flesh.

“Bring his weapon here; I wish to see it,” Li Ji’an said, having seen its strange properties and feeling curious.

“Yes, present it,” Cao Douhua ordered one of the guards.

A guard brought the collected weapon in a presentation tray and offered it to the Sage.

Li Ji’an picked up a segment, frowning in confusion. “Is this truly his weapon?”

“It is, Sage,” replied Cao Douhua.

“Zhangsun, have a look,” Li Ji’an said, placing the weapon back in the tray and waving at the guards.

Zhangsun Zhi examined a segment, his puzzlement deepening; Yuchi Gong did the same. The other generals, standing farther off, could not understand the fascination with the criminal’s weapon.

Even the Sage and Zhangsun Zhi were perplexed; Cao Douhua had seen it earlier and found it utterly ordinary—nothing special at all.

Zhangsun Zhi and Yuchi Gong understood: the key lay with the wielder, not the weapon itself. The Sage realized this as well.

“Take the prisoner at once to the Golden Guard Prison,” Li Ji’an ordered Cao Douhua.

“Yes, Sage,” Cao Douhua replied, inwardly relieved—he would not be punished, it seemed. He rose, and with his men, carried away the unconscious Yu Lianzhou.

“Continue the hunt,” Li Ji’an commanded, mounting his horse and departing.

The officials exchanged helpless glances. Though they had lost all interest in the hunt, they had no choice but to comply with the Sage. Yet scarcely had Li Ji’an ridden a few steps when he swayed and nearly fell from his horse. Fortunately, a sharp-eyed guard cried out, “Sage!” The officials noticed the commotion but were too far to help. Wei Ping, ever vigilant around the Sage, reacted instantly: he leapt from his own horse, cushioning the Sage’s fall with skill and his own body.

The officials rushed over, expressions anxious, for the Sage had fainted. A seasoned imperial physician hurried forward to take his pulse.

After a while, the physician reported, “The Sage is unharmed—merely a surge of anger and old illness have brought on dizziness. Some rest will restore him.”

Everyone knew the Sage suffered from such spells; reassured by the physician’s words, their anxiety eased.

With the Sage unconscious, Zhangsun Zhi was the highest in both rank and position. “General, please escort the Sage back to the palace to recover,” he said to Wei Ping.

Wei Ping replied, “Yes.” Then, turning to the others, he said, “Since the Sage has fainted, let us return him to the palace at once.”

“That would be best,” the officials agreed.

Halfway back, Li Ji’an awoke to find himself inside the imperial carriage. The attendant eunuch, Gao Yuan, noticed and hurried to his side. “Sage, you’re awake! Are you feeling unwell? Shall I summon Physician Zhang to tend to you?” he asked, reaching out to help him sit up.

Li Ji’an steadied himself and replied, “Send for Keyong.” Keyong was Physician Zhang’s courtesy name.

The physician entered the carriage, his expression tense. Li Ji’an dismissed Gao Yuan, leaving only himself and Physician Zhang Keyong inside.

“Did you speak out of turn?” Li Ji’an’s eyes flashed, his voice stern as he questioned Zhang Keyong.

At this, Zhang Keyong grew even more anxious, kneeling at once. “The Sage had instructed me; I would not dare utter a word beyond your command.”

Li Ji’an let out a soft laugh. “Look at you—no need to be so frightened. Rise.”

“Thank you, Sage.” Zhang Keyong wiped the cold sweat from his brow and slowly got up.

Seeing that Zhang Keyong seemed hesitant to speak, Li Ji’an smiled and said, “Speak your mind. If I did not trust you, would you still be standing here?”

“Then I shall speak,” Zhang Keyong said respectfully.

Li Ji’an picked up his teacup and sipped, waiting for him to continue.

“Sage, you must not exhaust yourself further. You must rest and recuperate, or else… or else…” Zhang Keyong could not bring himself to finish.

Li Ji’an’s expression darkened. He put down his teacup, looked at Zhang Keyong, and asked, “How long do I have left? Speak plainly—I won’t blame you.”

“If things continue as they are, perhaps only three to five years. If you rest and recover, you may have seven or eight.”

Hearing this, Li Ji’an continued to look at Zhang Keyong, but his gaze seemed unfocused. With a sigh, he said, “Still, it’s all too short.”