Volume One: The Hidden Dragon Beneath the Abyss Chapter Four: The Assassin

"Who wrote this poem?"
The next day, in the imperial study, before any affairs of state were discussed, one of the gathered scholars was asked about the poem from the day before.
The Emperor of Wei himself was no stranger to literature, and he felt he should have some recollection of such a masterpiece. Yet, fearing his own knowledge might be lacking, he had no choice but to seek confirmation.
At that moment, a learned official from the Hanlin Academy stepped forward and replied earnestly, "Your Majesty, I have searched through the canons of poetry and prose, both ancient and modern, and have never encountered this Wanderer's Poem. It must be a new composition."
Everyone nodded in agreement—it was, indeed, a new work. The minister spoke the truth.
So, it truly was Wang Chuan's own writing.
Since he had not entered the palace for half a year now, Wang Chuan's life had returned to its former routine, rarely interacting with others. How could he have found someone to ghostwrite, especially for a piece destined for the ages?
Having listened to the reports of yesterday's events, the Emperor found himself surprised by this side of his nephew.
Those flawless and well-prepared words gave no hint of a slip; he almost believed his imperial sister might truly be coming back, writing letters about his experiences at the Academy of Divine Patterns...
Moreover, he could speak of the life the three of them once shared—a time the Emperor, being so young, remembered only vaguely—as if he had witnessed it himself.
Alas...
"Let us begin the council."
The Emperor turned to governmental matters.
"This time, Jin has officially submitted diplomatic papers."
"The envoy is Qi Hao."
...
A test, then?
Were they truly playing for such high stakes?
The dead were gone—did it truly not matter to them?
...
For those who could truly set their minds to killing him, Wang Chuan could quickly think of a few suspects.
The carriage rolled to a stop at the gates of the residence. As Wang Chuan stepped down, he sensed something amiss.
Without giving it much thought, he headed toward the inner courtyard.
He did not realize what was happening until the sudden sound of fighting reached his ears; there had been not a hint of commotion outside, as if some formation had muffled all noise.
"Your Highness, run!"
Loyal Uncle's voice rang out, and in the next instant, he was flung violently to the ground before Wang Chuan.
Wang Chuan froze, unable to move, his body trembling uncontrollably with fear.
Around him, men in black had already sealed off every path of escape.
His guards, though fighting desperately, fell one after another as if they were no more than trees to be felled.
"Who are you people? How dare you act so brazenly?"
Wang Chuan tried to sound angry, but his voice trembled more with terror than rage.
The leader, masked and clad in black of finer cut and fabric than the rest, revealed a pair of bulging, goldfish-like eyes. He looked at Wang Chuan as if gazing at a dead man.
"Crown Prince, suddenly I find you rather pitiable—to die without ever understanding why..."
Professional assassins!
There was no more idle talk. The group attacked in perfect unison.
At their level, dealing with a Crown Prince who was useless in both martial and mystical arts should have been effortless.
And yet, an intense unease gnawed at their hearts—a killer's instinctive premonition.
The goldfish-eyed man's dagger gleamed with a chilling light as it whistled through the air, aiming straight for Wang Chuan's forehead...
The strike was terrifying in its ferocity.
A gale seemed to howl in its wake.
"If you want to kill His Highness, you'll have to step over this old man's corpse!"
Wang Chuan was already scrambling for cover, seeking safety.
Suddenly, Loyal Uncle let out a thunderous shout, his presence surging to a formidable height. In that instant, all the assassins felt their hearts jolt in terror.
His aura rose, level by level, until it seemed utterly unstoppable, bearing down on them.
"You old fool, you're actually using the Soul-Burning Art!"
This sudden turn enraged the goldfish-eyed man. Their prey, cornered though he was, still lashed out with desperate fury at death's door!
It would only cost them more effort; the old man, burning his soul to multiply his power, could not last long.
Ordinarily, one need only delay, but time was pressing for them as well.

Their offensive shifted, converging upon Loyal Uncle.
In that instant, Loyal Uncle seemed utterly transformed!
He exuded a sharp and ethereal presence—
A proud aura soaring above the nine heavens, as though untouched by dust, disdainful of all below.
The assassins shuddered involuntarily, a chill crawling over them.
It was as if they had been utterly ignored.
A roc soaring ten thousand miles never notices the ants crawling on the earth...
"You will pay for your contempt!"
Enraged, the assassins pressed their attack.
They knew their target, yet still undertook the mission without hesitation.
After all, who had ever succeeded in assassinating a Crown Prince?
And the Princess's residence was sparsely defended.
Their organization was unlike any other—those who failed never lived to tell the tale.
As long as they drew breath, they had never failed.
In a flash, blades gleaming with cold light were suddenly enveloped in true energy, wrists twisting rapidly as energy surged forth like dragons.
Poison Dragon Drill!
Loyal Uncle moved as well.
He had no weapon—just bare hands.
His palms shifted in a dazzling blur, as though butterflies weaving through flowers; torrents of true energy surged forth, crashing down upon every attack.
One force shattering ten techniques.
Yet such force was wielded with astonishing agility.
Unstoppable!
In the next instant, his figure flickered like a ghost, suddenly appearing behind the goldfish-eyed man, five fingers clawing downward...
A strike so mysterious and swift that it should have been flawless.
And yet, for some reason, his hand suddenly faltered.
The others froze as well, witnessing the rapid shifts and reversals on the field.
Bang...
The goldfish-eyed man's black cloak suddenly burst apart, fragments fluttering like spirit butterflies.
Then, all saw it—a complex sigil covering his back.
His entire back was jet black, with threads of silver light tracing the patterns of the body's meridians.
It looked as though his skin had turned to black iron, impenetrable and unyielding.
"This..." The other assassins stared at the intricate sigil in shock.
One among them understood. "That's the Blood Ignition Technique!"
Burning one's blood and energy to temporarily multiply one's power, unleashing potential at the cost of pushing the body to its limits.
It also allowed for rapid absorption of spiritual energy, and in battle, it could greatly enhance offensive or defensive power, even severalfold.
Such secret arts were nothing rare for their organization.
An assassin forced to reveal his trump card was naturally among the best of his peers.
He had attended all the specialized training, and even snuck into extra classes!
"As hard as black iron, as flexible as bamboo—blades and spears cannot harm me, indestructible as diamond!"
"Who can kill me?"
"Who else?"
"Who?!"
In that moment, the goldfish-eyed man was brimming with arrogance, all his previous frustration washed away.
To brave such danger was precisely for this moment.
Now, facing only this dying old man, he had been forced to reveal his trump card.
Turning, he wanted to see the shock on his opponent's face.
After all these years of cultivation, to amount to nothing and be forced to use the Soul-Burning Art for survival—such a person could never have witnessed a high-grade body sigil like his.
Only an Earth-ranked fighter could break it.

He turned, but saw only the other's calm, unruffled expression.
Serene—
Utterly serene.
How could this be...
The goldfish-eyed man was more stunned than anyone.
He watched as Loyal Uncle extended a finger, touching the sigil on his back.
Thud...
A dull sound, like something bursting.
A casual, almost careless strike.
Yet in the next instant, the goldfish-eyed man felt his energy seize up, his defenses shattering in an instant.
The old man gathered his strength, and with a single punch—
Containing overwhelming power, the fist crashed down upon the goldfish-eyed man with blinding speed, his terror-filled eyes unable to comprehend.
Bang—
A thunderous crash sent him flying, smashing him to the ground, his body reduced to pulp.
His eyes bulged wide, never understanding why, even in death.
Wang Chuan could barely resist the urge to step over and stomp him himself.
A moth to the flame is not courage, but ignorance—there were always some who came looking for trouble.
Wang Chuan was not afraid, but neither was he indifferent; constant harassment tried his patience.
Once the chaos settled, he darted away like a startled cat, slipping back into his study.
Loyal Uncle followed swiftly, locking the door behind him.
He saw Wang Chuan already seated again.
"More and more are watching us lately, with many new maids as well. Never mind; just act as if we don't know. Keep your sword drawn at your post, but this time, pull the defenses in—just protect the inner quarters..."
Wang Chuan picked up a chess piece, eyeing the board.
A mediocre move today—even he found it dull.
"Yes, Your Highness," Loyal Uncle replied cautiously.
Today, he had witnessed a rare display from his master, and it had left him deeply impressed.
He knew those secret techniques well—this was no Soul-Burning Art, yet it had instantly magnified his abilities.
A secret art that stimulated hidden potential.
"As long as everyone believes you have secrets, that's enough," Wang Chuan said seriously. "I have none myself."
"Yes," Loyal Uncle nodded.
That was the way of it.
"Nothing else, it seems. Toss the bodies outside the gate, but don't call the authorities yet. Our own men should be given a proper burial." Wang Chuan sighed, placing his chess piece. "At tomorrow's dawn court, the officials will enter through the Black Tortoise Gate—you just wait at the entrance..."
Loyal Uncle's old face twitched.
Yet he bowed and accepted.
Whatever you say, Your Highness.
Even if it's a little much...
His old dignity could be set aside—after such a perilous day, with the enemy resorting to such extremes, decorum hardly mattered any longer.
"Borrowing a blade to kill, borrowing a blade..." Wang Chuan picked up pen and paper, writing down a name. "I will break this blade, and I will have my revenge on that person as well."
Seeing the name, Loyal Uncle's heart leapt with dread.
He watched as Wang Chuan burned the paper.
But both of them had already committed it to memory.
Such minor matters should not disturb one's peace of mind, so Wang Chuan returned to his cultivation.
"Your Highness, when will we be able to return home? It must be soon," Loyal Uncle reminded him.
"Don't worry about that. Grandmother gave me a trump card. Returning to the capital of Jin will be effortless. But since it's a trump card, even you cannot know of it." Wang Chuan's eyes shone.
Loyal Uncle nodded with relief.
...