(Part 3)
The sudden speed almost caught Zhao Yi off guard. He gripped the stair railing tightly and leaped into the air, kicking two men away in the process. They were all dressed in work clothes, with a tattered cloth used as a mask, but their menacing aura was impossible to conceal.
There's something wrong with this group!
Zhao Yi made the simplest judgment, and without thinking, went upstairs. He opened the door with a bang, and Chen Zhuangmu was leaning against the door. "What's wrong?"
"There are assassins chasing us, let's go." As he spoke, he pushed the heavy curtain to the window, aimed at a spot, measured the distance, turned around, and landed on the ground.
Chen Zhuangmu released Zhao Yi's hand and instead gripped his sleeve tightly. The instant they landed, a multitude of people burst forth from the previously empty street, all dressed in plain clothes and masked. The assassins from the inn also rushed out and surrounded the two of them.
Even with her heavy makeup, she could tell that something was wrong with the group. If the assassins she had encountered in Huijing were risking their lives, then these assassins were definitely not going to live.
Their remaining time seemed solely devoted to killing them; their eyes held a numbness to death.
"Has this group of people been poisoned with something?" Chen Zhuangmu swallowed hard. The fiery clouds on the horizon had gradually cooled down, fading into a clear yellow that spread behind the group, creating a strange sense of desolation.
This scene suddenly brought Zhao Yi's feelings to a peak. Was his life ultimately destined to be filled with fighting and killing? Just like the fortune teller had said when he was a child?
The fortune teller, his face ashen, said smugly, "A person like you was never born to have a peaceful life. What you desire will only become more and more distant, and all that you love will leave you. Wouldn't it be a waste not to use someone like you to kill?"
"Qingzi?" Chen Zhuangmu shook his arm, and only then did she see that he had finally come to his senses. She wanted to ask him what was wrong, but she saw him grab her hand and say, "I won't let go!"
Seeing him like this, Chen Zhuangmu subconsciously nodded, but a sense of fear crept into her heart. She realized that the group of people in front of her were so dangerous that they would say such things.
The assassin watched them struggle and pull with an expressionless face, and at the leader's command, they all charged forward in unison.
"How do we break this deadlock?" Chen Zhuangmu panicked and was hurriedly pulled up by Zhao Yi. Before she could even touch him, she was pushed back. The shouts of the assassins behind her rang out, and she subconsciously threw a hidden weapon behind her. After a scream, everything around her fell silent.
"Zhuangmu, did you bring a dagger?" Zhao Yi asked, panting heavily.
Chen Zhuangmu asked in surprise, "You didn't bring it?"
"I've left my inn. I don't usually like carrying those things around." His tone sounded somewhat aggrieved.
Before she could finish speaking, Chen Zhuangmu pulled a short, thin, and exquisitely crafted dagger from her boot.
"This was made for me by my uncle, but I've never used it," Chen Zhuangmu said, handing it to him. He nodded but didn't reply.
As the assassins closed in, the two realized that this couldn't go on; it was impossible to play mind games with a group of people who had no new recruits.
Sure enough, they drew closer and closer, tightening their encirclement. This group of people seemed like twins, suddenly changing the position of their swords in unison. In that critical moment, Zhao Yi drew his dagger and swung it fiercely. The speed at which the dagger spun was dazzling. After a few cries of pain, several corpses fell, and at the same time, the dagger flew back into Zhao Yi's hand.
Chen Zhuangmu couldn't help at this moment, so she could only pray that she wouldn't hold anyone back. She ran like crazy with all her might, but because she was out of breath, she got a stitch and felt waves of pain in her lower abdomen. In order not to let Zhao Yi notice, she pinched herself hard.
But then he led him to a small intersection where there were several large baskets and only one road ahead.
"Come on, squat here."
Chen Zhuangmu: All that effort for nothing.
The two of them were extremely close. Zhao Yi held Chen Zhuangmu's hand tightly, as if he were frantically drawing her in. She wasn't thinking about anything, but she gripped Zhao Yi's hand even tighter than before.
The two looked at each other without saying a word; their eyes were enough to express everything they wanted to say.
At that moment, they heard a strange sound of footsteps. The sound was loud but very orderly, without any extraneous noise, as if it were a person walking, but the sound indicated that there were quite a few people.
This group of people is absolutely abnormal.
Sure enough, they didn't need gestures; a single glance was enough for the other team to catch up.
Was she well-trained or had something poisoned on her? Chen Zhuangmu's heart was in her throat, but she felt Zhao Yi's warm fingertips touch her.
A hidden weapon? Chen Zhuangmu slowly untied the straps, gripped the hard part to prevent it from making a sound, and handed it to Zhao Yi, intending to teach him how to use it. However, she saw that he had already skillfully put it on and was preparing to attack in the most standard posture.
How intense must the training have been when you were a child for you to still remember it after all these years?
But now was not the time to feel sorry for them. She only hesitated for a moment before focusing all her attention on the assassins. By now, they had already targeted the stacked baskets and were closing in with quiet, stealthy steps, accompanied by their sharp broadswords.
"Bang!" Two or three men in black who had just approached the large basket were blasted away by the huge impact. They were startled by the scene, but quickly recovered and the two sides were locked in a stalemate again.
But just as they finally couldn't resist taking a step forward, Zhao Yi grabbed Chen Zhuangmu's hand, suddenly swung away the large basket, adjusted the angle of his arm, and shot seven or eight assassins to death in succession.
Because of the commotion, the team that had chased after them returned. Chen Zhuangmu briefly counted them and found that there were still about thirty-five people left.
It was a tense situation. She quietly turned around, pulled out a small white bag from her belt, and prepared to use it when the time was right. They outnumbered each other now, and fighting head-on would be suicide. With Zhao Yi's skills, he would only have a chance of winning when there were only a dozen or so people left.
Zhao Yi had no idea what Chen Zhuangmu was thinking. His entire attention was focused on the hand he was holding and the group of inhuman creatures in front of him. This stalemate couldn't go on. He had already used a dagger, so these people were definitely on guard.
Suddenly, he felt a gust of wind brush past his ear, and a warm sensation touched his ear. Before he could even feel it properly, he heard: "Take the leader's."
Yes, his eyes lit up, and he recalled who had given the orders. In that brief moment of recollection, he noticed the difference in this leader.
That person didn't have a dead face.
Zhao Yi carefully turned his hand, pulled Chen Zhuangmu close to the group of assassins, and shot the hidden weapon in his hand at the leader. The people around him were like a pot boiling over, rushing towards him without any order.
This was the moment he had been waiting for. He couldn't help but smile, and with all his might, he flung the dagger in his hand. The dagger was thin and sharp, almost penetrating the skin with a single touch; anyone who touched it would surely die.
"Clang!" The leader seized the opportunity to swing the dagger down, but he couldn't stop it, and it returned to Zhao Yi's hand.
That's good, now they only have twenty-one people.
There was almost nothing in this angle, and no suitable tools, so his gaze fell on the pile of large baskets beside him.
He kicked one of the daggers and casually swung it a few times, turning it into sharp bamboo strips that attacked the assassins on both sides. Taking advantage of this opening, they ran towards the fork in the road ahead. Chen Zhuangmu casually flicked a handful of medicinal powder, and Zhao Yi, caught up in the idea, used hidden weapons to injure another group of people.
They moved so fast that they didn't even hear any cries of grief, but they could no longer be optimistic. The assassins were moving even faster than them, faster than they could imagine.
They ignored their companion's injuries and set off immediately after the powder wore off. Strange outlines bulged on their hands and arms, and something short and thick tried to break through the skin and emerge from the ground.
"Is...is this an insect?" Chen Zhuangmu felt nauseous, unable to believe that such a thing could appear in a person's blood vessels.
Zhao Yi frowned and said, "Miao witchcraft. Indeed, it's quite impressive; it can bring the dead back to life and heal the wounded."
The sky was not as bright as before, but some colors could still be seen. The ashen faces of the assassins looked even more terrifying against this dark sky.
Chen Zhuangmu had a superficial understanding of this thing, only knowing that Gu was a kind of insect that could achieve the effect of captivating people's souls when placed inside a living body.
Hearing is never as good as seeing; she felt that the scene before her could not be described in just a few words.
There was no trace of human life in them; their dark eyes were fixed on one spot and wouldn't move, as if they didn't use their eyes to see anything at all.
Eyes? To see? The eyes of the woman with the heavy makeup on lit up.
Perhaps their eyes really aren't where they can see? If she remembered correctly, when she sprinkled the powder, these people didn't move at all; instead, they retreated a little, with only the one at the head covering his eyes.
"Let's try anything, even if it's a long shot." She had just raised her head to tell Zhao Yi when she saw him smiling and saying, "You mean their eyes? Coincidentally, I just noticed that too."
If they couldn't see, things would be much easier. Zhao Yi grabbed Chen Zhuangmu and ran outside. They turned right at every alley they came across. The group of sorcerers were always at the head of the way. They hid around the corners. Whenever this group came out of the alley, they would pause for a moment. It was this brief moment that ended their lives.
The dagger was sharp and thin, cutting through iron like mud. In the blink of an eye, the group of people fell to the ground, their blood flowing silently, and countless tiny insects scurrying out from the wounds.
The scene was too unbearable to watch. The two of them turned their heads away in disgust. In that instant, the leader noticed their change, and the remaining witch doctors surrounded them against the wall.
The leader took out a peach wood box from his sleeve, quietly twisted it to the right, and pinched out a long, fat worm from inside with two fingers. The worm was wriggling.
The insect struggled and thrashed under his hand, and Chen Zhuangmu accidentally caught a glimpse of its two tiny, dark eyes.
What's going on? Are you just trying to annoy people when you can't win?
As their stomachs churned, the leader raised his arm and slowly put the worm into his mouth. He didn't seem to chew; instead, the veins in his neck throbbed twice, and suddenly bluish-purple and yellowish veins appeared all over his face.
This person's eyes are also different from those of ordinary people.
But the surrounding sorcerers all looked up at this person, a group of pupil-less black eyes staring at him, as if they were submitting.
They couldn't care less about feeling disgusted. Anyone with eyes could tell that the situation had changed, and the insects he had eaten were different from usual. They wondered what kind of changes they would cause.
At this moment, their hands were clenched tightly, Zhao Yi exerting force, and Chen Zhuangmu exerting force as well. The warmth of the mixed heat enveloped their hands; if they wanted to break through the encirclement, they had to fight to the death.
Zhao Yi held a dagger in his hand and reached for the medicinal powder at his waist. The assassins all raised their large knives, seemingly fearless.
The two of them were trying to save their lives.
In the silent corner, the assassins swarmed forward. Zhao Yi kicked one after another, but Chen Zhuangmu sprinkled powder on them, and they didn't even flinch.
Everything turned upside down after the leader ate the worm.
They all raised their broadswords high, charging down with immense pressure as if they were an unbreakable formation. How could Zhao Yi possibly withstand them with just a dagger? The broadswords had already pierced his shoulder, and his clothes were soaked with red blood.
At this moment, Shen Zhuangmu hated herself for not knowing martial arts.
The leader led the remaining men around to Chen Zhuangmu's side. Chen Zhuangmu shook off Zhao Yi's hand, but the assassin's broadsword was already raised.
Facing a group of desperate thugs, she knew that only by fighting for survival and risking her life could she win. She crouched down and raised her hand, intending to block the knife first, but unexpectedly, a blood-soaked hand gripped the hilt of the knife tightly.
"Zhao Yi!" Chen Zhuangmu turned to look at him, but he answered her listlessly, catching the knife while dealing with the others.
With a quick press and a flick of her wrists, Chen Zhuangmu removed the hidden weapon from Zhao Yi's wrist, fired a few shots haphazardly, and then fastened it to her own hand.
A warm breeze suddenly brushed past her ear. Before Chen Zhuangmu could turn her head to look, Zhao Yi's body blocked her from the corner of the wall, and she could only see the scene around her.
"What are you doing?" Chen Zhuangmu asked hurriedly.
"I'm sorry." Zhao Yi didn't turn around. His voice was just loud enough to be heard, and no matter how much you pushed him, you couldn't move him.
"What have you done wrong? Get out of my way!" Chen Zhuangmu hurriedly pushed his waist, but touched the gushing blood, which was even more than when she first saved him.
The stench of blood blurred Chen Zhuangmu's nostrils and even her vision. She quickly wiped it away.
Zhao Yi grabbed a man's neck, twisted it with all his might, and then hurled the corpse away, smashing it into a pile of debris.
He heard Zhao Yi's voice, still tinged with laughter, "You cried when you saw I was injured?" His heart warmed, but he forced himself to remain calm as he spoke.
There were four or five ordinary assassins and their leader who had just eaten the insects in front of them. The ordinary assassins were lined up in a row, followed by their leader. Their broadswords were pointing downwards and forwards, as if they were about to disembowel them.
They rushed forward, and Zhao Yi stepped on the middle knife, the dagger spinning and sparking as it struck the raised broadsword, swiftly dispatching the two men.
But at that moment, the man in black hiding behind suddenly leaped up. Just as his broadsword was about to fall, Shen Zhuangmu's hidden weapon was already launched.
"Bang!"
The leader of the assassins fell on the opposite side, flying two miles away as he died.
The remaining two were hit by Shen Zhuangmu's hidden weapon and died at his feet.
They all died and immediately turned into black blood.
Just as they were about to breathe a sigh of relief, they discovered a sword stuck in the leader's chest.
The sword was a bit rusty, very old-fashioned, and looked quite old, but the hilt still gleamed.
He had just managed to exhale, but the breath he had just released was instantly caught in his throat again. They didn't bring any swords.
"Miss...Miss." A sobbing voice could be heard from the side. In the blink of an eye, an old man of ordinary height was seen leaning against the wall and kneeling down in front of the dressing table.
“Girl…” he kowtowed.
Chen Zhuangmu covered Zhao Yi's waist, not daring to approach him casually, and only said, "Uncle, please get up first."
The old man, his face streaked with tears and snot, shook his head and said, "Princess, I am Wu Dou."
“I recognize the blood flute at your waist; it belongs to General Nebula… When you were little, I gave you candy, and you asked me to fight tigers…”
Memories, like sharp blades, rush into the mind hidden behind makeup, brutally tearing open the gentle shell and instilling facts that should have been buried.
The old man looked up, and Chen Zhuangmu noticed the mole under his chin. Her heart ached, and after a moment of confusion, she realized: "You are, Uncle Wu? A soldier in my mother's army camp?"
Before the old woman could answer, Chen Zhuangmu rushed forward and asked, "Where's my mother? Where's my mother?"
“Young lady, this is not a place to stay for long. You two come home with me. I have something to tell you.”
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