Chapter 171
The gates of the mansion were wide open, and the carriage silently entered the courtyard, leaving two deep ruts in the snow.
The coachman lifted the curtain and saw the person inside resting with their eyes closed. He then called out softly, "Lord Cai, we've arrived."
The elderly man, over sixty years old, had white hair and a beard, and his gaunt face bore deep wrinkles left by the years. But when he opened his eyes, he exuded an air of someone who had spent years manipulating power.
It is so striking that one cannot help but feel awe at first glance.
It was Cai Hui who had been demoted and returned to his hometown.
The driver quickly lowered his head.
"I am already a commoner, how dare I presume to call myself an adult?"
Before the coachman who had escorted Cai back could speak, the bowing servant said, "The Grand Tutor is a pillar of two dynasties. Even if His Majesty finds a pretext to punish him, who knows if he will not be reinstated?"
Cai Hui remained silent for a long time before being helped down from the carriage by the coachman. "That's enough. At my age, I'd rather return to the countryside and live a more carefree life."
The servants all agreed, "What you say is true, sir. After the snow stops in Ying County, we will arrive in Tanzhou in a few more days. At that time, the old sir can return to his hometown and enjoy his remaining years in peace—"
The cold, fluffy snowflakes fell softly onto the shoulders of the three people, and also onto the shoulder of another man in black.
The newcomer, wielding a silver sword, stood atop the wall in the dead of night, where not a sliver of moonlight could be seen, as silent and still as a ghost.
If he hadn't suddenly spoken, no one would have noticed him at all.
"To live out one's days in peace? Wouldn't it be better to return to one's hometown in death? What do you say, Grand Tutor Cai?"
"Who goes there?! Show yourself!"
The coachman immediately drew his knife, and with a flash of light, he stood protectively in front of Cai Hui.
The elderly man, over sixty years old, turned the prayer beads in his hand. After hearing those familiar words again, he silently closed his eyes and sighed almost imperceptibly, "What was bound to happen has finally happened."
Pei Lingjun stood alone on the rooftop, his voice almost cold and ruthless, "My lord, you've had a long and arduous journey. I'll see you off now—"
As soon as he finished speaking, seven or eight shadow guards leaped out from behind him, their footsteps on the roof not stopping as they jumped and raised their silver knives to slash at the men.
A large number of guards had been stationed in the courtyard in advance, and now they emerged from every corner of the courtyard, each with a cold blade drawn and a fierce look on their face.
The two groups quickly engaged in a fierce battle.
Pei Lingjun twisted his sword, gathering power as he shot it out. The silver sword, as if carrying immense force, pierced through the air currents on both sides without warning, heading straight for Cai Huishou.
The coachman next to him was clearly a skilled martial artist. He reacted quickly and blocked the attack with his sword, but the force of the silver sword pushed him back a few feet. He barely managed to regain his footing and then knocked the silver sword back.
The silver sword that had been shot out suddenly changed direction, heading straight for Pei Lingjun.
The latter tiptoed and flipped over, firmly grasping the sharp longsword. He then leaped down and engaged in a fierce battle with the guard.
The cold blade, touched by blood, surged with an overflowing killing intent.
In close combat, the guard aimed straight for Pei Lingjun's life, but was instead kicked in the knee by him, and his longsword drew a mouthful of blood the size of a bowl down his neck.
Fresh, pungent blood splattered out, turning the snow-covered ground crimson.
Pei Lingjun held the man's head with one hand, and with a 'crack,' the neck bone snapped, the flesh tore, and the corpse, which he had carelessly thrown on the ground, lay face down in an extremely twisted position.
Blood overflowed continuously from him.
The young man, dressed in black, was almost soaked in blood and turned crimson. He walked forward step by step, sword in hand.
The guards, most of whom had already been killed, were wary and pointed their swords at him, but none of them dared to make a move.
However, time waits for no one, and while the guards were still unsettled, several shadow guards had already seized the initiative.
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