Chapter 4: A Moment of Chaos, a Glimpse of Beauty
Chen Ye, holding the account book, fled the hustle and bustle of the Governor's Mansion in a few moments. He didn't care whether the female assassin lived or died; to him, she was just a pawn to be used in his plan. But, for some reason, her cold, calm eyes, which had remained calm even after her plan failed, lingered in his mind.
His movements were fleeting, like a fleeting shadow, as he moved across the densely packed rooftops of Yangzhou City like an illusion in the darkness. The wind whistled past his ears, unable to carry away the murderous aura he carried, nor to dispel the sudden ripple in his heart.
The mission was accomplished, and perfectly.
With minimal effort, they achieved their stated objectives, simultaneously resolving a potential assassination threat for their client and simultaneously undermining the reputation of their rival, the "Dark Spring" organization. This three-birds-a-stone strategy served as a valuable lesson for the Tianji Pavilion. From every perspective, this was a standard "Zhuying" operation—precise, efficient, and ruthless.
But for the first time, Chen Ye's heart did not feel the absolute emptiness that comes after completing a mission.
In his mind, he replayed the actions of the female assassin over and over again.
The lightness with which she climbed up the pillars, the agility with which she dodged the traps, and the momentary astonishment and anger when her plans were suddenly disrupted, followed by a look in her eyes that was immediately replaced by a cold determination.
An ordinary assassin, besieged on all sides, would either panic or launch a fearless counterattack. Yet, she was able to make the most accurate decision in the shortest possible time—abandoning the mission and escaping with all her might. Her decisiveness didn't resemble that of a killer in a second-rate organization, but rather that of a battle-hardened, resolute general.
"Youquan"...can it cultivate such a person?
Chen Ye's figure quietly landed in the backyard of an inconspicuous pawnshop. This was one of the contact points of Tianji Pavilion in Yangzhou, and it was also where he delivered the mission items.
He knocked gently on the back door, three long knocks and two short knocks, which was the predetermined signal.
The door hinge creaked slightly, and a skinny, sleepy-eyed shopkeeper poked his head out. When he saw that it was Shen Ye, the remaining sleepiness disappeared instantly, replaced by a deep-seated awe and fear.
"Sir..." The shopkeeper's voice trembled a little, and he quickly stepped aside to make way.
Shen Ye didn't go in, but simply stood in the shadows of the doorway, as if staying under the light for even a second longer would be a blasphemy. He pulled the account book from his pocket and handed it over.
The shopkeeper quickly took it with both hands. The account book that determined the life and death of Wei De, the governor of the Grand Canal, seemed to weigh a thousand pounds in his hands.
"The things are here. Follow-up matters should be handled according to the rules." Chen Ye's voice was cold, like ice in deep winter.
"Yes, yes! I understand." The shopkeeper nodded repeatedly, not daring to look at Chen Ye any more. "Your reward has been deposited into the account you specified. Here is the receipt."
As he spoke, he took out an inconspicuous black jade from his sleeve and handed it over respectfully.
Chen Ye took the jade without even touching it with his fingertips. After confirming that it was correct, he turned around and was about to leave.
"Sir," the shopkeeper summoned his courage and called him back, "Over at the Governor's Mansion... I heard there was an assassination attempt. The Youquan people failed and were scared away."
"What does it have to do with me?" Chen Ye's footsteps did not stop at all. His voice floated from the darkness, so indifferent as if he was talking about something that had nothing to do with him.
The shopkeeper shuddered, daring not to speak any more. He quickly drew back his head and closed the door. Inside and outside the door seemed like two separate worlds. One was the hustle and bustle of life and fear, the other, the inhuman loneliness and darkness.
Chen Ye's figure flashed a few times and then disappeared into the depths of the crisscrossing alleys.
A quarter of an hour later, he returned to his temporary base in Yangzhou City—an unremarkable courtyard in a slum area. The yard was overgrown with weeds, and the furnishings inside were extremely simple: a hard bed, a square table, and a chair—nothing else.
This place is just one of his countless shelters, like a tool without emotions, which can be discarded after use.
He closed the door and the whole world became quiet.
In this absolute silence, the thoughts that were suppressed during the day began to surge uncontrollably.
He sat down at the table and poured himself a glass of already cold tea. His handsome yet indifferent face was reflected in the water, and for the first time, a hint of confusion that he himself had not yet noticed was reflected in his calm eyes.
He began to review the entire operation.
Every detail, every step, was flawless. Only the female assassin, like a stone thrown into a calm lake, stirred up ripples.
She is very strong.
This was Chen Ye's most intuitive assessment. Her Qinggong moves were agile and graceful, a stark contrast to the more aggressive and aggressive styles of the "Youquan" assassins. Her internal cultivation was also quite solid, at least a decade in the making. What impressed him most was the murderous intent that gathered at her fingertips as she prepared to strike. It was a powerful, penetrating force, far from the ordinary technique of a concealed weapon.
Who is she?
This question shouldn't have crossed Zhuying's mind. The Tianji Pavilion's motto is that everything outside of a mission is empty. An assassin's greatest enemy isn't their target or their guards, but curiosity. Curiosity breeds emotion, and emotion can dull even the sharpest sword.
He had been trained since childhood to abandon all unnecessary emotions. The "Lightless Heart Sutra" took this philosophy to its extreme, suppressing human nature, stripping away all emotions, and honing the practitioner into a highly accurate killing machine.
Over the years, Shen Ye has been doing well. He thought he had become an emotionless sword, cold, sharp, and absolutely obedient.
But tonight, Kenshin seemed to show some signs of loosening.
He closed his eyes, and those cold eyes appeared again.
Those weren't the eyes of a bloodthirsty, crazed killer. Beneath that cold mask, he clearly saw something... deeper. Was it hatred? Obsession? Or a kind of determination he couldn't fathom?
When she realized she was being used and plotted against, her eyes shone with not only anger but also an unyielding pride, as if to say: Today's humiliation will be repaid tomorrow.
This is interesting.
Chen Ye picked up the teacup and drank the cold tea in one gulp. The cool liquid slid down his throat, calming his chaotic thoughts a little.
He began to analyze this strange feeling.
Perhaps this wasn't a wave of emotion, but rather the instinct of a master. Like two peerless divine weapons, even if stashed in separate scabbards, they would resonate imperceptibly when brought close together.
He simply admired a good rival, a fellow loner in the darkness. Her appearance stirred a little ripple in his long-silent world, nothing more.
This explanation made him feel at ease.
He stood up and walked into the courtyard. The moonlight was like water, stretching his shadow very long. He slowly drew the soft sword "Moment" from his waist. The sword was narrow and thin as a cicada's wing. In the moonlight, it glowed with a cold blue light, as if it could absorb all the light around it.
He began to practice swordplay.
In the "Momentary Beauty" sword technique, no move is redundant, and every sword has only one purpose - to kill.
The sword flashed, so fast it seemed to tear through the air. There was no sound of wind, no crackling of air, only afterimages crisscrossing the courtyard. His figure merged with the sword light, sometimes disappearing like a ghost, sometimes reappearing out of thin air in another corner.
It was his way of calming himself down.
When he is immersed in the world of swords, he is no longer Shen Ye, but "Zhu Ying", a code name, a legend, a ghost walking on the edge of life and death.
After finishing his sword technique, he sheathed his sword, a thin layer of sweat seeping out of his body. The strange feeling that lingered in his heart seemed to evaporate along with the sweat.
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