Chapter Sixty-One: The Game and the Power (Vote for Monthly Tickets)

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Chapter Sixty-One: The Game and the Momentum (Asking for Votes)

The horses neighed hoarsely, the night wind was piercing, and a nightmare battle raged along the long street.

Swords sliced through the chaos, a charging warhorse had its forelegs severed mid-gallop, blood spraying high in the air as it crashed thunderously onto the road. As the beast rolled, another body—one of the guards—was hurled backward, face streaked with blood and torn flesh. The others pressed forward bravely, only to have steel blades and chests split open in the same instant.

The woman’s figure darted forward at impossible speed. Five or six guards tried to block her path, but none could hinder her advance. That somewhat unwieldy longsword weaved relentlessly through the clash of blades, drawing lines of blood with each sweep, the shrieks of the fallen marking her grim progress. Under the darkness, she was already drenched in blood, yet with overwhelming pressure she drove the fleeing Song Xian toward the end of the street.

Both sides moved with astonishing speed along the avenue. The guards surged from every direction to block her pursuit, while Song Xian himself ran for his life. One guard leaped in from ahead, desperate to halt the chase, but in the next instant a flash of steel swept from his left shoulder to his right side, sending him hurtling like a cannonball as a great bloom of blood exploded in the night.

Blades slashed in from both sides, tearing the air. The woman ducked low, her sword drawing a crimson line across one man’s thigh, then she spun upright, seized another by the back of the head, and smashed his skull into the face of a comrade approaching from the right. In one motion, she snatched up a steel blade and hurled it forward.

Song Xian had already dashed several meters away, reaching for the reins of a rushing horse. The spinning blade sliced across his waist and embedded itself with a sickening thud in the horse’s leg. Amid the blood and chaos, man and beast tumbled forward together. As he scrambled to his feet amid the turmoil, the woman was already closing in, a storm of blood trailing behind her.

“You lunatic—!”

Bang—

A burst of fire erupted. Song Xian was sent flying again, his back slamming against a corner wall. Not a single guard had managed to delay the woman for even a moment. As he looked up, that ancient sword was already sweeping down toward his head. He jerked aside; the blade struck the wall with a shower of dirt and stone. Before he could even register his relief, her fist exploded forward, filling his vision.

A thunderous blow. His skull rattled, his head slammed against the wall, blood sprayed as his vision shook and time seemed to slow. But his reactions did not quicken. The figures charging forward, the sounds of combat—all faded to a distant blur amid the trembling red haze. She turned, cleaving down another guard, and when he raised his weapon instinctively, her gaze snapped back to him.

He swung his arm, but the blade meant for her body never struck. Instead, blood spurted from his severed wrist, the hand clutching the sword spinning away into the night, tumbling toward the other guards. Her right elbow, braced with the force of her entire body, drove toward his face. Darkness engulfed him.

Bang—buzz—buzz—

He did not know what happened next. A third impact struck, and the wall behind him seemed to vanish. He was airborne...

At a bend in the road, a carriage had come to a stop. Ning Yi arrived soon after, standing beneath a tree in the darkness to watch the scene unfold at the far end of the street.

He had not witnessed the entire battle, but the devastation on the road told him everything he needed to know: the wreckage of two carriages, corpses, blood, warhorses with shattered legs writhing and whinnying in agony. The scars of battle stretched the length of the street, but the final stretch was the most shocking of all.

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Song Xian had joined the battle, but the pressure from the woman was simply overwhelming. By the time Ning Yi arrived, Song Xian was already preparing to flee. But escape was impossible. Most of the warhorses were wounded, and the remaining guards fought desperately to halt the woman’s pursuit. The battle surged down the avenue at terrifying speed, but her onslaught never ceased—blood flew with every strike, more guards wounded or slain, until Song Xian was finally overtaken at the street’s end.

Three thunderous impacts, and then the entire wall at the far end of the street collapsed in the blink of an eye... a brick hurtled through the air, smashing into a man’s head and crumbling to dust. The fighting raged on.

“Yes, yes...” Ning Yi murmured in the darkness, steadying his breath and letting out a long sigh.

“This is what I wanted...”

A moment’s observation was enough; there was no need to watch further. The reinforcements would likely arrive soon. Ning Yi turned away and returned to his carriage. Glancing at a nearby horse standing alone at the border of light and shadow—its rider dead, blood trickling down—he walked over, rummaged through the dead man’s clothing, and took a bamboo tube meant for fireworks, tucking it into his own robe. He looked around. While there might be scattered residents on the far end of the street, this area was deserted—no one would see him here. He quietly returned to his carriage and drove away.

“...This is the final struggle. Unite for tomorrow. The Internationale... will be realized...”

His fingers tapped out an urgent rhythm on the carriage, mind racing through calculations of the surrounding streets and possible ambushes. He hummed a familiar tune, the flickering firelight illuminating a smile unlike any he wore in daily life—beneath his courteous exterior, something wild and unrestrained shone through.

How many opportunities would there be? He did not know. Change was inevitable, and perhaps more trouble would follow. But now, he was certain—he wanted that thing, wanted to possess it...

If he did not make an effort tonight, he feared he would not be able to sleep.

Fireworks rose above the city streets, but more often came the urgent beating of drums.

It was a night of chaos.

By the time most of the crowd from Egret Isle returned to Jiangning, the commotion here had already engulfed much of the city. Soldiers of the Martial Valor Army and constables rushed to pursue the female assassin darting through the streets; several skirmishes broke out along the way, with further casualties. As returning residents spread out from this area, the assassin seemed to try to escape into the crowd. Yet, the elite Martial Valor soldiers who had followed Chen Yong intercepted her, forcing her to flee toward the quieter quarters of the city.

The woman, it seemed, was badly wounded but still fearsome in combat. Anyone not supremely confident dared not engage her directly; ordinary constables simply beat their drums and kept their distance. The pursuers were many, and though she darted left and right, she could not vanish entirely.

Tonight was different from Lantern Festival night. The streets here were now largely deserted, and the woman, unusually stubborn, showed no intention of retreating after being injured. She fought on to slay Song Xian, despite her own heavy wounds, leaving her with few places to hide. There was no curfew in Wu, and though most shut their doors at the sound of fireworks and drums, some idlers still wandered the night. Ning Yi, driving his carriage along the periphery of the turmoil, found himself at an advantage. Occasionally encountering soldiers or constables, he exchanged a few words or simply passed by—no one paid him any mind.

He hummed as he circled among several districts, watching the distant chaos, calculating the movements of each group he saw, mapping the general situation, the woman’s location, and her possible options. To approach her directly was difficult. If he drove up to her now, an encounter would be easy enough, but pointless—if he offered to help, she would most likely kill him on the spot. He could not act first; only by creating the right environment and waiting for her to come to him could he reveal his intentions.

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The calculations of the human heart are always complex. Even with an advisory team like the one he had in his previous life, he could not have been confident now. Alone, he could only act on a “give it a try” mentality. There were a few districts in the city that might be ideal, but in these brief minutes, he misjudged the direction of the woman’s flight twice. One of those missed chances could have worked, but was lost. About ten minutes later, amid fresh disturbances, he finally spotted a possible opening.

The carriage raced along the avenue toward the western part of the city, weaving into a quiet alley as urgent drumbeats echoed from afar, soon joined by the sounds of fighting. The woman was driving the chaos in his direction; then, just as suddenly, the commotion vanished. Ning Yi checked the time, took out the fireworks tube, pulled off the cap, and launched a signal flare high into the sky. Then, with a flick of the whip, he sped away toward another district.

In theory, the assassin’s escape route was now temporarily confined. If he could reach the next area ahead of her, his carriage might serve as the perfect bait—perhaps there was a thirty percent chance she would board, and with that, a chance to strike a deal...

He raced through two districts. Ahead, a squad of constables rushed toward him and suddenly blocked his way.

Damn...

Had the fighting continued nearby, the constables would have ignored him, but with the woman’s trail temporarily lost, he had no choice but to stop and submit to a search. The carriage bore the banner of the Prince Consort’s residence, so the constables did not make trouble. After a brief inspection, they let him go with polite words, but precious time had been lost. By the time Ning Yi moved on, the woman had already passed beyond where he expected to find her.

Accidents happen often—Ning Yi knew this well—but the turn of events was still disappointing. He had used his only fireworks tube; he could no longer steer the woman’s movements. Before long, her flight continued eastward, and Ning Yi quietly drove his carriage away from the center of danger. There was little point in going further. Even if he could save her, it would be impossible to avoid the Martial Valor soldiers and constables—risk and reward were now out of balance, so there was no need to press his luck.

A pity. Would he ever meet such a formidable person again...?

With that thought, he made his way back toward the Su residence. The chaos behind him subsided for some time, but when the next signal flare and drumbeats caught his attention, he realized with surprise that the turmoil had shifted back in his direction...

On the western edge of the city, near a quiet lakeshore, Ning Yi drove his carriage along the bank. On one side, the lake and trees lay silent; on the other, high-walled courtyards glowed with lanterns. Now and then, a passing figure could be seen—likely returning from the floral festival.

Far behind, a squad of Martial Valor soldiers was rounding the road, seemingly headed his way. Up ahead, constables were patrolling the intersection. Recalling the earlier fight, Ning Yi quietly pulled over near the junction, stepped down, and stretched languidly.

In the darkness along the lakeshore, the woman wrapped herself in a black cloth, lying low among the trees and thick grass, holding her breath and doing her best to keep her blood from leaving too many traces, patiently waiting for the search parties to pass.

The carriage stopped not far from her hiding place. She watched as the driver dismounted, stretched, and wandered toward the lake, humming a strange, leisurely tune as he searched the grass.

While writing this chapter, I listened to the band Tang Dynasty’s “The Internationale” several times—not for the lyrics, but because the rhythm and mood seemed to match Ning Yi’s frame of mind at this moment.

Another all-nighter spent writing. Please support me with your votes, so we can catch up to the next ranking.