Great Zhou World
The thick darkness poured down like ink, weighing heavily on the towering walls and densely packed roofs of the Shangshu Mansion. The flying eaves and brackets, so magnificent during the day, were now reduced to hideous, twisted silhouettes, swaying slightly in the wind like a dormant beast. The night wind whimpered through the corridors, picking up a few prematurely withered leaves, which scraped against the cold bluestone slabs with a sharp, piercing sound, adding to the dead silence.
Ning Yangyang, dressed in a tight, dark outfit, practically blended into the dense darkness. She crouched on the cold roof tiles, breathless and focused, like a petrified statue. Only her eyes, fixed on the courtyard below, shone startlingly bright in the shadows.
The target is behind the window in front of us through which a faint candlelight shines - Chen Gongming.
She slid silently down the eaves, landing softer than a feather. With a flick of her fingertips, a short knife, over a foot long, slipped quietly into her palm. The touch of cold metal snaked up her arm, reaching her heart, bringing a sense of almost cruel calmness. The blade, thin as a cicada's wing, occasionally gleamed a cold light in the thin moonlight, illuminating the tense line of her jaw. Her footsteps landed soundlessly on the carefully paved stone path.
On the window paper, a blurry figure, cast by the candlelight, sat upright, her back to the window, seemingly flipping through a book. The timing was perfect. Like a cheetah gathering strength, she suddenly slammed open the half-closed window, her figure so swift that only a shadow ripped through the darkness. The dagger in her hand stabbed the man's vital point!
The tip of the knife cut through the air, making a slight hissing sound.
“Puff—”
The dull sound of the dagger piercing flesh was particularly clear and startling in the deadly silence of the room. A stream of warm liquid instantly gushed out, soaking Ning Yangyang's hand as she gripped the hilt.
However, at this moment, the figure with his back to her suddenly turned half of his face.
The candlestick sat a few steps away on the desk. The dim, flickering light, like a stingy paintbrush, sparingly outlined the profile of the face that had suddenly turned. The sharp eyebrows, the straight nose, should have been a gentle and pampered expression, but now it was tense with pain. But this face—this face—was definitely not the ignorant old man she had meticulously planned to assassinate!
Ning Yangyang's blood seemed to freeze and flow backwards in an instant, causing her eardrums to buzz. Her pupils suddenly shrank to the size of pinpoints, and a name, with the cold, rusty smell, hit her throat hard, almost blurting out.
“Xiao…!”
How could it be him? Crown Prince Xiao Yuhuan!
Terror, like a cold, venomous snake, instantly coiled around her heart. Her mind screamed frantically, "Stop! You must stop now!" The muscles in her wrist trembled violently under the immense fear and the force of the forced reversal. She tried her best to withdraw the blade.
But in the blink of an eye, something strange happened!
Instead of dodging backwards with the force of her sword, Xiao Yuhuan's body thrust forward with incredible speed and a strange and decisive posture!
"Ugh!" A suppressed groan escaped from between his clenched teeth.
Ning Yangyang felt an overwhelming, unstoppable force surge from the cold hilt in her hand. The tip of the blade, which had retreated slightly as she pulled back, now pierced deeper and harder! Warm blood instantly gushed out, flowing along the blood grooves of the blade, instantly staining her hand and his moon-white brocade uniform red, spreading a rapidly expanding, shocking patch of dark crimson around his waist.
"System, is this considered a scam? Or is it self-defense? He was the one who forced his way forward!" Ning Yangyang desperately wanted to pull back her hands, eager to get rid of this sudden accusation, but her hands seemed to be filled with lead and could not move.
Ning Yangyang froze there, her mind blank, the only thing she could remember was the sticky, burning sensation in her hands and the crimson spreading wildly before her eyes. She stared blankly at Xiao Yuhuan's face, which had instantly turned pale from the pain, yet remained strikingly handsome. A fine layer of cold sweat oozed from his forehead, his teeth clenched, his jaw set in a sharp line. His body swayed slightly, but he managed to steady himself against the desk.
Then, the corner of his blood-stained lips slowly curved upwards.
It wasn't a smile, more like a sharp and desolate declaration. His thin, blood-stained lips opened and closed, his voice low and hoarse, and every word was like an ice-hardened iron nail, hammering fiercely into her confused mind:
"Yangyang, your goal is finally achieved." He panted, and every word was filled with the breath of blood foam. "Now..." He raised his bloodless hand and pointed at the open window. His eyes were as sharp as a knife, piercing her, "Run!"
"What nonsense is the system talking about? I just want to frame Xiao Ziyi for harming the officials of the dynasty, and I want to tattoo him on the shoulder, okay?"
"Maybe he thought you were really here to assassinate him?"
"Assassinating the current crown prince, I truly feel I haven't lived long enough."
"Host, you'd better escape quickly. After all, you don't deserve to die here."
"What do you mean?" Ning Yangyang pulled herself back from her conversation with the system.
"Someone come! Assassin!! The assassin has seriously injured His Royal Highness the Crown Prince!"
The voice was so sharp that it changed its pitch, echoing and colliding wildly in the thick night. It was like an invisible hammer, hitting Ning Yangyang's heart hard and completely igniting this silent mansion.
The dead silence was shattered in an instant!
The sharp, piercing sound of gongs exploded, "clang, clang, clang," madly pouring in from all directions, violently slicing the air. Countless lanterns lit up in a flash, like bloodshot eyes suddenly awakened, one after another, flashing open from deep corridors, from tightly closed courtyard gates, and from towering watchtowers!
The dim, flickering glow quickly merged into a sea of dancing light, casting shadows on the buildings and winding paths, adding to the ghostly chaos. The clatter of heavy footsteps, like a sudden mountain torrent, surged in from all directions, accompanied by the sharp clang of armor and weapons, and the panicked shouts of countless voices, questions, and orders.
"The prince was assassinated!"
"Seal the gate! Quick!"
"The assassin is running that way! Chase him!"
"Protect His Highness! Send for the imperial physician—!"
The noisy sound waves were like a boiling tide, carrying a cold murderous intent, closely following Ning Yangyang, as if countless invisible hands were trying to strangle her throat and drag her back into the bloody abyss.
Her heart pounded wildly in her chest, each beat pounding her eardrums, threatening to burst. Her lungs burned, and each rapid breath carried the rusty smell of blood and the sharp edge of the night air. She couldn't care less, only one thought raging in her mind: Escape! Get away from here! Get away from that bloody scene and those voices!
Drawing on her innate knowledge of the terrain, she darted through the suddenly illuminated mansion like a flash of black lightning blending into the night. She slid under the shadows of the rockery, clung to the cold, rough walls, even tumbling beneath a clump of low-lying trees. Every turn and every evasive maneuver narrowly avoided the suddenly lit lanterns and the approaching roar of pursuit. Chaos was her only barrier.
Ning Yangyang stomped her toes hard on a raised brick in the corner, using the momentum to pull herself up, her hands clinging tightly to the cool, slippery tiles. Gathering all her strength, she swung herself over the high wall, like a bird with a broken wing, landing heavily on the cold, hard ground beyond. Pain shot through her elbows and knees, but she didn't even groan. Using her hands and feet, she scrambled to her feet and plunged into the thicker, more boundless darkness beyond the wall.
The cold night rain had quietly begun to fall, its drops as fine as needles, silently dampening Ning Yangyang's hair, cheeks, and the chilly nightgown that clung to her body. Mixed with sweat, the rain trickled down her forehead and into her eyes, bringing a sharp pain and blurring her vision. She scurried frantically through the muddy alley, one foot deep, one foot shallow. The chaotic lights and bustle of the Shangshu Mansion behind her were finally blocked by the winding alleys and the increasingly dense rain, gradually fading and blurring. Finally, only the muffled gong's lingering sound remained, trembling unwillingly in the damp, cold air.
Ning Yangyang slammed her body into the creaking, rotten wooden door of the courtyard. The heavy door slammed against the earthen wall, sending a cloud of dust flying. She practically rolled into this familiar yet unfamiliar world, but the scene that greeted her eyes made her heart, already pounding with fear and frenzy, suddenly tighten and nearly stop.
Xiao Ziyi sat on the single, worn wooden chair in the center of the courtyard. His head bowed slightly, his hand tightly gripping a longsword. He had polished the blade repeatedly until it gleamed with a cold luster, like a pool of autumn water, clearly reflecting the sparse stars in the night sky, cold and devoid of any trace of worldly life. His polishing movements were extremely slow and focused, with a solemn, almost ritualistic air.
Rough fingertips brushed the cold sword spine repeatedly, making a subtle, teeth-grinding rustling sound. He was clearly sitting alone, his figure appearing somewhat frail in the dim light, but Ning Yangyang felt as if she could see an invisible army gathering behind him, a blood-soaked, murderous aura permeating the small courtyard. The aura he emanated was even colder than the cold night of late autumn, piercing the bone.
Ning Yangyang had bolted back, fleeing for her life, fleeing for her life, preoccupied with dodging the pursuers and the chaotic crowds. The hurried pedestrians scurrying through the streets, the hooves of the rebel cavalry whirring past, the faint cries and clanging of metal, all seemed to her like vague background noise. But now, in the suffocating silence of the courtyard, the sounds blocked out by the walls seemed amplified countless times, drilling clearly into her eardrums—the shrill cries of women and children, the desperate pleas for mercy, the dull thud of weapons cutting into flesh, the roar of collapsing buildings... They intertwined into a chorus of agonizing inferno, each sound hammering at her taut nerves.
Xiao Ziyi slowly raised his head. When his gaze fell on Ning Yangyang, she felt a chill run from her feet to her head. Those eyes no longer held the depth they once held, nor the occasional hint of helpless indulgence towards her "real" sister. Now, they held only a bottomless, all-consuming darkness, hollow and indifferent, like an eternally cold pond, reflecting no emotion, nor her shambling figure. He looked at her like the impermanence of the Nine Netherworlds, scrutinizing a soul about to be snatched away, without a trace of human warmth.
Ning Yangyang's legs buckled, and she fell heavily to her knees on the cold, hard, slippery, mossy ground. The sharp pain in her knees was not even a fraction of the fear she felt. She knew that look all too well; it was the look Xiao Ziyi wore when she truly had the killing intent to eliminate a "troublemaker."
In the past, relying on the little affection she had for him as her "sister," she had dared to act out in front of him, getting angry and contradicting him. But now, that little bit of affection, in the face of this pure, cold darkness, was as fragile as a piece of thin paper.
"Nangong Xi should have left long ago..." Her chaotic mind raced as she thought desperately, "He's still here, waiting for me... No, waiting to deal with me? Is he planning to kill me and silence me? If so..." An absurd thought, yet one that brought a hint of relief, flashed through her mind, "Then the 'task' assigned by the system... I have completed it, right? At least, him 'dealing with' me is a kind of closure, right?"
She frantically called out in her mind: "System! System! Do you have enough gold coins? Quick! Buy me a resurrection armor! Now! Immediately!"
A cold mechanical voice rang out with a hint of barely perceptible helplessness: "Host, he is your brother."
"No, no, no!" Ning Yangyang screamed inwardly, "I found him! I found him on the roadside! I fished him out of the river! I'm not related to him! Quick! Resurrection Armor!" She practically buried her head in the cold, damp moss, as if that would block out the suffocating sight. Her body trembled uncontrollably, her voice tinged with tears, as thin as a mosquito's, yet clearly pierced the dead silence of the courtyard: "Brother... Brother... I... I think I assassinated Xiao Yuhuan... His Royal Highness the Crown Prince... It seems... It seems someone discovered..."
Xiao Ziyi remained silent. The chilling silence seemed to freeze the air, leaving only the faint cries and cries of swords and weapons outside the courtyard as the background. He slowly stood up, his movements not swift, yet carrying with him a sense of oppression, like a mountain collapsing. The longsword, polished to a dazzling cold gleam, remained in his hand, its tip pointed diagonally towards the ground, reflecting a chilling glow under the sparse starlight.
He walked slowly toward Ning Yangyang, who knelt on the ground. His leather boots made a soft yet heavy "thump...thump..." sound on the damp, cold mud. Each step felt like a slap on Ning Yangyang's heart. Ning Yangyang lowered her head, her eyes only able to see the muddy tips of his boots and the cold, reflective edge of his sword. The chill, not just from the blade, but also from his entire being, emanating a murderous aura so intense it was tangible. Like invisible ice needles, it pricked her exposed skin painfully and nearly froze her blood.
He stopped in front of her, his tall figure completely looming over her. Ning Yangyang closed her eyes in despair, waiting for the cold blade to fall. However, the expected excruciating pain did not come.
A low, hoarse voice, yet filled with a strange excitement and praise, rang out above her head: "Well done."
Ning Yangyang was startled, suspecting she was hallucinating. The voice continued, decisive and unquestionable, "As expected of a member of the Ning family!"
"?"
Ning Yangyang jerked her head up, her face a mixture of tear stains, mud, and utter astonishment. Her eyes widened, completely unable to comprehend this sudden plot twist. Assassinating the crown prince? Being discovered? And then being praised for "well done"? This completely contradicted all the information she'd previously received about this world (that damn PDF)!
Her mind was in a tizzy, and she subconsciously complained furiously about the system in her head: "Because of a malicious data intrusion? Is that Qi Yiwen? Has this world line collapsed so badly that even her own mother can't be recognized? This plot is going like a stray dog on the loose! Save! I want to reload! Now! Immediately! Start over!"
The system's cold voice carried a subtle fluctuation: "Sorry, host. The current world line is undergoing drastic changes. The save function... is temporarily unavailable."
"Unusable?!" Ning Yangyang roared inwardly, "Are you a "three-no" system?! You don't even have a save file?!"
Before she could recover from the overwhelming sense of absurdity and her anger at the system, a calloused, incredibly powerful hand suddenly grabbed her arm. The force was immense, and with irresistible determination, it lifted her from the cold, muddy ground like a chicken!
Ning Yangyang felt dizzy and before she could even scream, she was thrown steadily upwards by a powerful force, landing heavily on a solid, warm object—the saddle of a tall, muscular, jet-black warhorse! The horse snorted nervously, exhaling a scorching breath. Ning Yangyang, still terrified, almost instinctively clutched the belt of the man in front of her—it was Xiao Ziyi!
Her brother, the emperor's adopted son, no longer had the cold, dead expression on his face. Instead, he had a burning, desperate, wild look. His movements were as swift as lightning, one hand tightly gripping the reins while the other daringly reached for the corner of the courtyard wall—where a long, cloth-wrapped pole had been leaning against it.
“Swish!”
The sound of cloth tearing was piercing. Xiao Ziyi's arm muscles flexed as he suddenly lifted the long object high above his head! Pieces of cloth flew down, revealing a tattered yet still fluttering flag! The flag was a deep, blood-red color, and in the center, a huge, weathered yet still murderous character, the word "Ning," danced wildly in the night wind!
He didn't even look at Ning Yangyang again, and suddenly squeezed his legs against the horse's belly!
"drive--!"
With a roar like a ripping silk, the black horse, like an arrow from a bow, carried the two people and crashed open the already shaky courtyard door! The rotten wooden door instantly turned into fragments!
Xiao Ziyi held the blood-stained battle flag, symbolizing the military spirit of the Ning family, in one hand. The moment he rushed out of the courtyard, facing the night wind that was mixed with blood and smoke, he used all his strength to let out a thunderous roar that was enough to tear apart the entire night of the imperial capital:
“I’m rebelling—!!!”
The roar was like thunder, carrying with it overwhelming hatred and determination, and it rushed towards the city gate where flames were shooting into the sky and screams of killing were shaking the earth!
As the Ning family's troops trampled past, the long street felt like it was being devoured by a giant beast. Dark red blood clotted in the cracks of the bluestone slabs, a few tattered official notices twitched in the wind, and the half-closed window frames were as empty as blind eyes. The smell of burning mixed with the stench of blood weighed heavily on the deserted, dead silence. Only the lingering embers of the fire crackled beneath the broken walls, stirring up swirling black ash like paper money for summoning the dead. Occasionally, a breeze picked up scraps of cloth and paper, swirling them over the uncollected corpses, making a whimpering sound.
"System, the plot is reversed, there is some kind of rebellion!"
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