Three Steps: From Assassin to Empress - Chapter 29
Chapter 29: The Assassin Fights
The Yuan River flows powerfully eastward, its waves crashing against the large, open sluice gates. The river wind constantly blows against Ying Xiu’s plain sleeves, making them billow. In the fierce wind, the imperial token he holds shines brightly.
He puts the token back into its pouch in his sleeve. It feels light, just as it did before, resting against his heart, yet it makes him feel strangely uneasy. Just moments ago, the assassin saw something sharper than any blade: power, or more accurately, imperial power—the ultimate authority.
On the dam, the sun shines brightly, making everyone feel dizzy. The trembling officials and gentry, squinting in the light, hesitantly look up. Seeing that the envoy has put away the token, they cautiously support themselves with one hand and attempt to stand.
The two junior officers put down their weapons and walk to Ying Xiu. Their faces are wreathed in smiles, their attitude respectful. They bow and say almost in unison, “Your humble officials pay respects to the Envoy with the Token.”
They glance at each other, and the older officer says to Ying Xiu, “This humble official has failed to recognize a great man. If you wish to distribute the grain to the people, it is no problem at all. I will immediately have it distributed—”
Hearing this, the people look overjoyed, ready to kneel in gratitude.
“Wait,” Ying Xiu says. He looks around. The government has collected two stones of rice and flour from each person, but the grain here, even with what was dumped, is far from enough. “Each person will receive four stones of rice and flour, signed and documented, to be compiled into a register.”
The youth’s voice is clear, bright, and powerful: “Not one ounce less.”
They had only collected two stones, but he demands four. The two junior officers’ expressions change slightly, their eyebrows twitching. They continue to smile and nod in agreement, “Yes, yes, we will do as you command. Not an ounce less. When we return, we will inform the Governor.”
He is trying to stall, but Ying Xiu gives him no opportunity. He stands his ground. “Distribute it to the people today. I will watch here.”
“My lord, that might be a bit too rushed…”
The officer’s words trail off as he remembers that the token allows Ying Xiu to execute officials with a salary below 2,000 stones. His own annual salary is only 200 stones, meaning the Envoy could kill ten of him. He awkwardly falls silent, nodding repeatedly, “We will follow your command and finish the distribution today.”
The officer sends men to inform the military commissioner, the magistrate, and the governor, and also orders the gentry in Jiangzhou to bring grain from their private granaries to appease the Envoy. Other matters can be discussed later.
Cart after cart of grain and flour shuttles back and forth on the dam. The soldiers use scales to ensure that each person receives exactly four stones, not an ounce less. Ying Xiu stands nearby, watching the people line up to receive their food.
Little Chang’an has also been released. Her hair buns are messy, and her face is flushed. She is nervous but thanks Ying Xiu loudly. He looks down and finally sees the little girl at his feet. He reaches out and gently pats her head. “Where is your mother? I will send you home. Don’t do such dangerous things again.”
Earlier, all the adults had stayed back, but this child, not even five years old, was the first to step forward and question the soldiers. She is a good child, and he can’t let her get involved in such things again.
Little Chang’an has lost her bravery from before and honestly answers, “My mother didn’t want me to come. I came secretly to see what they were doing with our family’s grain.” She seems a bit unhappy that Ying Xiu doesn’t want her to step up and argues, “You did such a dangerous thing, so why can’t I? Is it because I’m small and a girl?”
Ying Xiu has no experience with children. He is helpless against this small, yet vibrant, creature. After a long hesitation, he can only say, “Go talk to your mother about it.”
A moment later, Chang’an’s mother arrives, embracing her daughter and repeatedly thanking Ying Xiu. Ying Xiu is not afraid of insults but is a little shy of praise. His hand, tucked in his sleeve, grips the fabric, and he nods reservedly. His ears feel a little hot, perhaps red, but luckily his hair covers them, so no one should notice.
In the distance, the junior officer anxiously rubs his hands, waiting for the servant who went to inform the governor. After a while, the servant returns, looking defeated.
“Reporting, my lord, we ran to the military commissioner’s, the magistrate’s, and the governor’s residences, but the gatekeepers all said their masters are ill and cannot get up. They said everything is up to you two,” the servant says, then continues, “The governor’s gatekeeper said we should serve the Envoy well.”
The message is clear: do whatever the Envoy with the Token says. The two officers have no choice but to urge the gentry to bring out the grain. The gentry, who have dominated Jiangzhou for decades, are being humiliated for the first time, and by commoners at that. They are resentful but dare not test the limits of the tyrant in Jiankang. They can only swallow their anger.
By dusk, near curfew, the officials have finally finished distributing the grain. The people carry their own two stones of grain on their shoulders and the two stones given by the government in their arms. They are happy but also a bit nervous.
They bow deeply to Ying Xiu. He is startled and tries to tell them to get up, but they stand still, completing their bows with determination.
“Thank you, benefactor. Without you, our grain would have been wasted,” an old man says.
Ying Xiu has heard many words of praise. He looks at the grateful faces and feels a bit flustered himself. “This grain was yours to begin with. I just helped you get it back.”
The people shake their heads and offer their grain to Ying Xiu. They don’t know who the Envoy with the Token is, only that Ying Xiu is their benefactor. Grain is the most important thing in the world, and they want to give it to him.
Ying Xiu is at a loss. He waves his hands, refusing. With no other option, he puts on a cold face: “If you don’t want it, I will have the officials take it back.”
But the people are not deterred. They surround Ying Xiu, begging him to accept their grain. In desperation, Ying Xiu uses his qinggong (lightness skill). While the people are not paying attention, he swiftly slips through the crowd and stands panting in an empty space some distance away.
So many people… he was terrified!
At the same time, on a tall building near the Yuan River, the window of a private room is open. Someone sits there, watching everything unfold. The Central Military Commander stands by the window, looking down.
He sees the young assassin arguing, trying to use the gods against the gentry, and sees him reluctantly take out the token, calmly but awkwardly accepting the worship of a thousand people. He can even faintly hear the assassin’s sharp cry, “Get up!” when the people try to kneel before him.
A taste of power, a command to be obeyed. This youth is so imposing. The token in his hand could even kill the Central Military Commander himself. First, execute, then report to the emperor.
The Emperor must have a plan for giving the token to Ying Xiu. After all, ancient texts say that “power is something no person can leave.” Once a person tastes power and holds life and death in their hands, they can never leave it. This is true for ordinary people, let alone an assassin who has always been at the mercy of others. Now that he holds the token and is worshipped by a thousand people, how can he be willing to go back to being a lowly assassin, to be used by others again?
It seems Ying Xiu will not return the token to the emperor. In a flash, Commander Shang Weijun understands the emperor’s true intention: to bind the assassin with power, to make him willingly fall into the trap of ambition, to never be able to escape. There are many people in the world who desire power, but few are as pure and naive as Ying Xiu. Once Ying Xiu becomes one of the former, the emperor will tire of him and…
Commander Shang Weijun feels a strange sympathy for Ying Xiu. He is a good young man, standing up for the people and helping those in need. He lives up to his given name, “Fú Wēi,” which means “to help the distressed.” The commander turns to look at the emperor.
The twenty-four-year-old emperor, known as a tyrant, is dressed in pure white, like an immortal. His face shows no emotion as he silently watches the lean, graceful figure of the youth on the dam.
A strange, overbearing gaze seems to be fixed on him from above. It holds no malice, yet it makes the always-alert assassin uneasy. Ying Xiu suddenly turns around, looking up at the tall building. The Yuan River is surrounded by grand buildings with elegant balconies. Ying Xiu looks for a moment, finding nothing unusual, but his intuition tells him someone was just watching him with a gentle, indifferent gaze.
Someone approaches him. Ying Xiu turns quickly, and the person jumps. They can’t believe a mere youth could be so alert.
“Envoy with the Token, this humble official has finished distributing the grain. We have also sent men to deliver grain to the people who are at home, in the fields, or working outside,” the officer says, bracing himself. For some reason, he feels a strange fear in front of this young man. A person who has spilled bl00d is different from an innocent person, and this Envoy has clearly taken lives. He has killed people and has an imperial token that allows him to execute officials of a lower rank. He can execute four officials like him in one go. Of course, he is terrified.
“Thank you, two sirs,” Ying Xiu says politely.
The two officers are stunned for a moment. The younger one instinctively says, “You’re welcome.” The older one says, “This is our duty.”
It is almost curfew. The people on the dam begin to leave. The gentry stand in place, their faces green with frustration. The priests watch Ying Xiu with curious eyes.
Ying Xiu didn’t hire a carriage when he came, so he walks slowly back to his guesthouse. The aristocrats behind him are shocked that the Envoy would walk. A few quick-thinking ones get ready to offer Ying Xiu a ride in their carriages.
Several carriages stop in front of Ying Xiu, and he is about to refuse when a strange, sharp young voice calls out, “Is that you?! Ying Xiu of the Qionghua Stage.”
He turns to see a palanquin carried by four people, lit by lanterns carried by servants. Inside sits a youth in a red robe with black trim, his expression weary. He stares at Ying Xiu without blinking.
In the Jian Yuan era, four great gentry clans followed the young emperor south and established a new dynasty, with the capital in Jianye. They ruled the land with the Emperor Yuanxi. The four clans were Xie, Wang, Huan, and Xi. This is Xi An, the direct descendant of the Xi clan of Gaoping.
It is because of him that Ying Xiu became an assassin. He went from being a benefactor of the Wang clan to a nameless assassin at the beck and call of others. Ying Xiu has not used a disguise recently, so Xi An recognizes him.
Ying Xiu smiles faintly. “Yes, it’s me.”
“How dare you show your real face? And where did you get that token?” Xi An says lazily, his voice rising, his tone mocking. “Oh, did you climb into the bed of the old man from the Wang clan, and he gave you their token?”
The tokens held by the four great clans were all given by the previous emperor. Very few people have received a token from the young tyrant. The youth in the palanquin smiles coldly. “Congratulations, your face has finally come in handy.”
In front of everyone, the young master of the Xi clan insults the Envoy with the Token. The gentry in their carriages are relieved they didn’t get out, so they won’t be implicated.
Ying Xiu looks a bit shy. “Thank you for the compliment, young master.” He knows Xi An is saying his face is handsome, and he knows he is good-looking. Every morning, he looks at his sword, “Questioning Heart,” to admire himself.
Xi An: “…” Two years later, he wants to kill this silent boy even more.
After thanking him, Ying Xiu is about to walk home when a gloomy, strange voice calls out from behind him.
“What, you’re walking home alone?” Xi An says. “Why don’t you take my Xi family’s carriage? I’ll give you a ride.”
As he speaks, the private soldiers of the Xi clan appear from all sides, surrounding Ying Xiu in an instant. In the darkness, one can see they are all wearing armor, swords in their sleeves, and radiating a killing aura. The observing gentry quickly turn their carriages around and retreat, leaving Ying Xiu alone to face a hundred elite soldiers.
In the distance, the Yuan River surges, its waves sounding faint and ethereal. Ying Xiu didn’t bring his sword. He sighs and slowly turns around, his clear eyes sharp, filled with an indescribable danger. “Are you sure you want to give me a ride?”
The assassin is beautiful yet dangerous, a mesmerizing combination. Staring at his face, Xi An is entranced for a moment before he laughs, the smile growing wider. He is about to order his soldiers to seize Ying Xiu, break his bones in a secret place, tie him up with red ropes, and take him to his private residence.
The tension is palpable.
“Wait.”
A gentle, calm voice rings out in the quiet night. The person speaking must have a kind and warm nature. Ying Xiu looks in the direction of the voice. A low-key carriage has been parked nearby, so silent that no one has noticed it.
Ying Xiu’s eyes light up, and he seems to remember something. He frowns slightly and stretches his muscles. He also tightens the ribbon on his high ponytail.
The red-robed youth in the palanquin impatiently turns his gaze away, about to raise his hand, but the person in the carriage continues, “I’m here to take Ying Xiu home. There’s no need to trouble you.”
Facing hundreds of soldiers, the young driver sitting on the carriage’s footrest seems unfazed. His expression is calm, and his eyes even hold a slight smile. For some reason, that casual, nonchalant smile makes Xi An feel a faint unease.
He ignores his feeling and allows his servant to explain, “My master is the young master of the Xi clan of Gaoping, Xi An.”
Normally, upon hearing the name of the young master of the Xi clan of Gaoping, merchants, officials, and even local tyrants would rush to greet him and offer whatever he wanted.
But… there is only silence. Even the driver’s casual, composed smile doesn’t waver. The young man in the carriage doesn’t speak, showing no reaction to the famous gentry clan. The handsome young driver even taps his footrest. “My master is here to pick someone up. Your young master should move aside.”
Xi An’s servant is speechless. Is there anyone in the world so ignorant they don’t know about the four great clans who rule with the emperor? If he knew, why would he act this way?
The smile on Xi An’s face slowly disappears. Meeting Ying Xiu in Jiangzhou is an unexpected surprise. He has been planning his revenge for two years. Before he can do anything, he must deal with this person blocking his way. Ying Xiu has an imperial token, so it’s not wise to harm him openly. But the person in the carriage… may not be so lucky.
“Xie Zhou!”
Ying Xiu shouts toward the familiar carriage. The driver looks at him. The youth raises his hand and throws something that flashes with a brilliant white light like a shooting star. “Catch!” he yells. The driver instinctively reaches out, his long arm catching the object. He looks at it under the carriage’s lamp, and sees that it is the imperial token.
The casual smile on the driver’s face slowly fades, replaced by a calm expression. He respectfully hands the token to the young man in the carriage.
Xi An is first stunned, then realizes what it is and laughs out loud. His young, handsome face is filled with a sinister smile.
“Ying Xiu, after all these years, you’re still the same.” The red-robed youth laughs joyfully. “You gave him the token. Are you still an Envoy with the Token? Now, even if I kill you, no one would dare say a word.”
He is surrounded. The young assassin stands alone, without his greatest protection, but he smiles faintly. “You can try.”
He even turns his head and shouts to the person in the carriage, who has been silent all this time:
“Xie Zhou! You go home first, I’ll be right there!”