The battlefield under the tree had quieted down. The Brocade Guard had used carriages to transport a lot of water from the Yuquan River. With a tilt of the bucket, the clear water splashed onto the street. In a flash, the dust and blood on the ground were washed away, leaving only the wet, clean stone slabs.
There were Brocade Guards keeping watch all around, and there were also related yamens conducting surveillance in the various houses, so there were no unusual movements around the T-shaped alley. The stone wall at the back of the courtyard was also beginning to be temporarily sealed up. In short, the Discipline Commission had to restore this area to its original state as quickly as possible.
The palace did not want to bring up this matter at this time. After all, Tan Wu and the others had died a heroic death. It would be difficult to frame Shang Shanhu, and after all, they had to consider the military's attitude, so they were prepared to keep it under wraps for a while.
The morning birds chirped. The Brocade Guards raised their heads and looked at the sky, which had not yet brightened. They thought to themselves that the birds had woken up early. Did they know what had happened here?
...
...
Hiding under the tree, Fan Xian wiped away a drop of cold sweat from his forehead. He cursed the sleepless birds in his heart. He carefully hid his figure in the darkness before dawn, following the wounded Brocade Guards from a distance as they made their way north of the city.
There were no pedestrians on the long street, and there was no rustling of street sweepers from his previous life. He leaped across the two-story buildings on the neighboring street, confident that no one would discover his tracks.
The stretcher-bearers were already far away from the small courtyard and had entered another, but he didn't know if it was the Discipline Commission or the 13 yamens. The wounded were separated into different rooms, waiting for treatment. A few bloodied doctors hurried in and out.
Fan Xian circled around to the back and waited behind a few bamboo baskets in the corner.
Not long after, a few muffled grunts came from a side room. The sound was very soft, but it clearly reached his ears. After a few breaths, a person climbed down from the wall. His movements were slow, and after landing on the ground, he carefully tidied up his clothes and confirmed his identity token. Only then did he step forward and walk toward West Street.
Fan Xian saw that the person was wearing the uniform of the Brocade Guards. Although the man wore his hat tightly, a few strands of white hair still flew out. As he slowly walked, the white hair trembled slightly, looking extremely miserable in the night wind.
Watching the man walk further and further away, Fan Xian's eyes, which were not covered by his hat, shone with a cold light. He noticed that the way the man walked was a little strange, and knew that his old comrade's legs had not healed after he had broken them.
He followed, and the two of them walked along the quiet street to the west. Although there were guards at every intersection, Xiao En was dressed in the uniform of the Brocade Guard, and he had killed people in the side rooms to steal their tokens. This allowed him to pass through several checkpoints without any mishaps.
Fan Xian was like a ghost disappearing into the night. Following from a distance, he easily passed through a few trials.
On the way, Xiao En took a break at an ordinary person's house.
Behind them, on the roof of an ordinary house, Fan Xian also rested for a while.
Then, the two of them stood up one after the other. Before the sky brightened, they crawled out of the net the Embroidered Uniform Guards had woven and arrived at the western city gate.
— —
After the city gate was opened, the vegetable farmers who had been waiting outside for almost an hour each handed over the travel documents that had been prepared by the officials in the city, and rushed in. And Xiao En also took advantage of this chaos to sneak out of the high city gate. After a while, the old man, who had survived a calamity, had already made his way with difficulty to the foot of Mount Yan, west of Shangjing, next to the disorderly forest.
Fan Xian followed from afar, his extremely sharp eyes staring in the direction of the old comrade's advance. After a while, Xiao En emerged from the forest. He was dressed in tattered clothes, and the corners of his clothes were stained with the black soot of an old man in the village. He had gathered so much firewood from who knew where, and carried it on his back like a small mountain.
The sun had already risen from the east, illuminating the quiet mountain forest. In a flash, it dispersed the mist, and the air was clear.
Anyone who saw that old man would think of him as a hardworking old farmer who had risen in the morning to gather firewood. No one would associate him with the famous spy chief of twenty years ago.
Fan Xian stood quietly in the tree, coldly watching Xiao En's hunched body as he slowly advanced. A chill welled up in his heart. After all, Xiao En was old. Not only was his body not as good as it had been, but even his mind was a bit slow. Who would choose to come out to gather firewood at this time of the day? The real farmers would only enter the mountains at dusk to collect firewood.
...
...
It was quiet outside the city, and it was also quiet inside the city.
The spy of the Embroidered Uniform Guard reported, "The Qing diplomatic mission is very quiet. It is said that Master Lin Wen arranged for two singers to accompany Envoy Fan yesterday. They didn't sleep much last night."
"Are you sure Fan Xian is in the diplomatic mission?" Shen Zhong had already taken off his official robes and changed into his rich man's clothes. He held a piece of roasted donkey meat in his right hand and brought it to his mouth.
"Yes, sir," the spy replied respectfully. "Some of our brothers know what Fan Xian looks like, and they have been watching from outside the courtyard."
Shen Zhong was slightly taken aback. He tossed the greasy donkey meat onto the table. His eyes were slightly sunken, and he appeared particularly listless. After a night of torment, no one's body was made of iron. Suddenly, he laughed and said, "How could that be an honest person? Has Friar He already left?"
"Yes." The spy suddenly became spirited. "Master Lang Tiao has also gone."
Shen Zhong slowly closed his eyes. No one knew what he was thinking. After a while, he quietly said to himself, "These southern barbarians want us to think that Fan Xian is still in the diplomatic mission. If we kill Fan Xian now, won't they suffer a loss?"
He opened his eyes, which were as ruthless as an eagle's. "These southern barbarians have learned to scheme over the past decade. I'm afraid their cleverness will make them fall victim to it."
...
...
After a night of watching, Fan Xian also felt a little tired. But the Tyrannical zhenqi in his body was incomparably abundant, so he could still manage. Looking at the old man on the forest path in the distance, who had difficulty even walking, he couldn't help but feel some admiration. He was already seventy or eighty years old, and after decades of torment, he had actually managed to escape from prison so thoroughly. Fan Xian didn't know where this old man got his mental strength from.
Fan Xian didn't move, because he always felt that some unknown danger was waiting for him. And Xiao En's exit from the city seemed a little too smooth. Suddenly, he thought of a certain possibility. He narrowed his eyes, slid down the tree, and retreated in the opposite direction. In a flash, he disappeared to who knew where.
The sun moved westward inch by inch, and Xiao En moved westward inch by inch. To the west was the Western Sky. It could be death, or it could be pure land.
Naturally, the diplomatic mission and Xinyang wouldn't report all their plans to Shang Shanhu, and Xiao En also had other plans. The mountain path went up and up, until it came to an end. On the edge of a cliff was a hill overgrown with shallow grass. To the left was a stone road that led to the Shangjing army's horse camp. This was where Shang Shanhu and Xiao En had agreed to meet up.
The faint red light in Xiao En's eyes had already dimmed. He tilted his shoulder slightly, letting the small mountain of wet firewood fall to the ground. He patted his butt and sat down. Since there was no one to meet up with him, this plan must have been discovered by the Qi Kingdom's palace. Needless to say, someone must be waiting for him here.
Just like that time on the meadow by Wuduhe, Xiao En once again felt tired. He didn't want to go any further.
"Come out."
His slightly dry lips opened and closed, and he spat out a few words.
As soon as he spoke, the grass trembled. A black-robed swordsman slowly walked out from the end of the mountain path. This swordsman had a very high forehead, and his face was very pale. His brows and eyes seemed to have weathered the vicissitudes of life. He was about forty years old, and his right hand rested firmly on the hilt of his sword. His knuckles protruded from between his fingers. His entire person was like a cold sword.
"Friar He?" Xiao En's eyes narrowed, and a cold light shone from them.
This swordsman was Friar He, one of the few ninth-level aces in Northern Qi. The eighth-level Cheng Jushu that Fan Xian had killed a year and a half ago on the street of Niulan was his disciple.
Friar He's face was pale, and his black robes contrasted with each other like charcoal. He gripped the hilt of his sword with utmost respect, raised it upside down, and cupped his fists in salute. "Greetings, Mr. Xiao."
In Northern Qi, except for Ku He, everyone else could only greet Xiao En with the respect of a junior.
"Who would have thought that the young swordsman of yesteryear would now become the most powerful swordsman of the Brocade Guard." Xiao En coughed, still sitting on the ground, and gently massaged his knees.
"It's been many years." Friar He looked at Xiao En, his face full of sincere respect. "I am not a dog of the Brocade Guard. I am a follower of the Empress Dowager. Today, I have come to ask Mister Xiao to rest in peace."
Xiao En said softly, "You must know that this world belongs to His Majesty."
Friar He knew what this old man meant. The Emperor did not want to kill Xiao En, and by standing on the side of the Empress Dowager, he would undoubtedly offend the young Emperor. He smiled and looked around. "I had thought that I would see that young talent of the Fan Dynasty today."
Xiao En coughed again. "Who would have thought that after running amuck for so long, I would die as bait."
"Old Sir, there is no need to grieve. Since that Fan Xian has retreated, he is lucky."
With a swish, Friar He unsheathed his sword and flew forward like a bird. His wrist, elbow, and shoulder formed a straight line as he stabbed towards Xiao En's heart!
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