Joy of Life - V1C19
Prologue: Nice Guys Finish Last
1- A Child of the Tanmai
2- The Truman Show
3- The Legacy Book
4- Studies and Ghost Stories
5- The Noctural Visitor
6- Master Wu Zhu
7- Master Fei Jie
8- One Year Later...
9- Grandmasters and Divine Temple
10- Overpowering Bàdào Zhenqi
11- The Sea Salt Merchant
12- Farewell for now, Master Fei Jie
13- Mail Order and Newspapers
14- It Hurts Like Hell!
15- Housekeeper Zhou
16- Ay-ya-ya-yaaa
17- The Three Goals
18- The Attempted Poisoning
19- The Assassin
20- Clean Up After Yourself!
Chapter 19
The Assassin
In an alleyway in Danzhou, Fan Xian was scaling the back wall of a building using his hook-like fingers. When he exerted his strength, he moved with the agility of a climbing civet cat[i]. This building belonged to Old Ha, the local vegetable seller.
For many years, the Count's villa employed only a dozen servants, primarily locals from Danzhou, save for a few maids who had been replaced over time. This familiarity led Fan Xian to trust them implicitly. Although he had previously met Old Ha, it struck him as odd that Old Ha would fall ill at such an opportune moment.
The room where Old Ha lay was enveloped in darkness, yet for Fan Xian, it felt as bright as daylight. He quietly entered and caught a faint whiff of blood in the air. Old Ha’s lifeless body was sprawled on the bed, shrouded in a cotton blanket with only his feet visible. The subtle scent of blood indicated that the assassin had attempted to clean up, and without the development of his keen sense of smell under Fei Jie’s guidance, Fan Xian likely would have overlooked it.
He discreetly moved to a corner where shadows concealed both himself and the assassin. Fan Xian quieted his mind and body, trying to imitate Whu Zhu—not perfectly, but very closely—and let Zhenqi flow smoothly through him, syncing his heartbeat with the surrounding noises.
According to Fei Jie, who had taught him much about the Overwatch Council, the assassin was likely still nearby; the Council's agents were known for their thoroughness. After poisoning Fan Xian, they would stay through the night to ensure the so-called illegitimate son was dead before slipping away from Danzhou under the cover of darkness. Since the assassin was masquerading as Old Ha’s nephew, he would be familiar with the villa's layout, preferring to remain in position rather than change spots.
However, Fan Xian couldn’t have anticipated how events would unfold. He scrutinized the room, noting that apart from Old Ha’s cold body on the bed, no one else was present. Carefully, he navigated along the wall, taking care not to disturb any furniture, while scanning the less noticeable corners of the ceiling.
As he made his way to the window where a sliver of light broke through, he realized Old Ha’s modest place had only one window, leaving the room dimly lit. Fan Xian positioned himself beside the window, using the contrast of light and dark to mask his presence.
After standing still for what felt like an eternity, frustration crept in. Had he miscalculated? Maybe the assassin had already escaped. If so, his hasty arrival, rather than handling Housekeeper Zhou directly, was a mistake.
Approaching the bed to uncover the mystery of Old Ha's death, tension gripped him as he closed the distance. Suddenly, he detected a suppressed breathing sound—a noise he hadn’t noticed in the commotion from the market until he was nearly upon it.
The assassin had concealed himself behind Old Ha’s body upon noticing the intruder's entrance. The breathing was remarkably steady, approximately seven breaths per minute—something Fan Xian would have missed without the enhancement of his Zhenqi, which sharpened his hearing.
He hesitated, staring intently at the bed, uncertain if it was a setup. Outside, the lively commotion of merchants filled the air, and he could hear the faint clatter of a particular carriage. Recognizing that a carriage would struggle to navigate the narrow road in front of the building, he remained silent, dagger ready.
The assassin maintained his patience, sensing that the intruder was just as careful, despite not being able to see who had entered. As time stretched on, doubt began to seep in, making him realize he had underestimated the dangers of Danzhou. Regret washed over him for deciding to stay behind to ensure his target’s death.
As the carriage rolled through the market, merchants on either side started shouting insults at the exasperated driver, who wouldn’t have taken this route if he hadn’t been pressed for time. The merchants struggled to clear a path for the carriage, and once they finally succeeded, the driver expressed his gratitude and prepared to move on. However, disaster struck when the carriage collided with a crate of eggs, enraging the egg merchant, who clung to the reins, unwilling to let go. This led to chaos erupting in the market.
Hearing the clamor outside, Fan Xian seized the opportunity and brought his right foot down with force. He vaulted to the side of the bed and ruthlessly plunged a thin dagger into the spot behind Old Ha’s body.
In that moment, Fan Xian caught a glimpse of the assassin’s face. His eyes were icy, and his brows were slightly unruly. Fan Xian assessed that he was quite young, of average appearance, with slightly thick lips and dark skin.
Taken completely by surprise, the assassin abruptly moved his right hand. A small, black crossbow bolt shot out from beneath the blanket, hurtling straight towards Fan Xian’s face. Anticipating the bolt's launch, Fan Xian had already landed with his arm raised, leaving his torso vulnerable.
The bolt zipped through the air like a streak of light.
Fan Xian reacted immediately upon the bolt being fired. Having endured six years of intense and brutal training from Wu Zhu, who wielded a stick that moved far quicker than this bolt, he didn’t fully commit his weight to the landing. Instead, he held himself in an awkward position in the air by twisting his toes, shifting a few inches to the right.
The bolt grazed Fan Xian's left cheek before embedding itself into the roof with a dull thud.
The assassin was taken aback. He couldn’t fathom that the person who had come to confront him was this striking youth, who should have been incapacitated by poison. Even more astonishing was the fact that this young man had managed to dodge a close-range, concealed crossbow shot!
At the same time, Fan Xian's dagger sank deeply into the assassin’s body with a disturbing, muffled sound. It felt as though he was stabbing through a slab of pork with a kitchen knife. Due to the need to evade the arrow, Fan Xian's aim was off, and he ended up stabbing the assassin in the shoulder, leaving him still alive.
The assassin writhed like an eel in water, preparing to strike Fan Xian fatally with his left hand. However, the pain in his shoulder, combined with being slammed into the bed, caused him to topple. The concealed crossbow slipped from his grasp.
He braced himself, but when he tried to get up, the pain was more intense than he ever could have imagined. Moreover, that boy’s dagger had pierced through his shoulder and stuck into the bed. He had been pinned to bed alive!
With the assassin completely neutralized, Fan Xian’s left hand clutched around his throat. The assassin finally showed his fear of death. His thick lips parted slightly as if wanting to say something.
Fan Xian’s heart tightened as he felt a chill. He didn’t give the assassin the chance to talk or retaliate. With a crunch, Fan Xian broke the assassin’s neck. His head slumped to the side, and he died instantly.
Fan Xian kept his hand on the assassin’s broken neck for a moment, feeling the crushed pieces of bone. As the assassin’s blood gradually cooled down, Fan Xian finally removed his hand and crouched over, panting heavily.
It took Fan Xian some time to calm down. The cold sweat made his clothes stick to his body.
He took the long, thin dagger out of the assassin’s shoulder. The terrible sound the blade made as it was dislodged from flesh and bone made him pause before he finally removed the small, insidiously hidden crossbow from the dead assassin’s sleeve.
The slender blade was covered in a black, opaque substance. Fan Xian knew Master Fei had created a poisonous black coating that could cause excruciating pain for anyone wounded. He carefully placed the blade inside an elephant scabbard and glanced at the corpses—those of the assassin on the bed and Old Ha, the vegetable seller underneath it—before he turned to leave.
As he opened the door, Wu Zhu stood quietly at the corner of the stairs. “If the carriage hadn’t come, what would you have done?” he asked.
Fan Xian lowered his head and remained silent for a long time. Finally, grasping the disturbing feelings from his first kill, he raised his head and smirked. “I would have stayed still like he did and waited for you to come.”
They climbed down from the wall again. The lessons he had learned while climbing the cliffs outside Danzhou had finally been used that day. Fan Xian lowered his feet to the floor and walked ahead, knowing that Wu Zhu would leave him and reappear when he was in danger.
As he moved through the busy market, he stayed silent, his right hand hanging loosely by his side and trembling softly.
For many years, the Count's villa employed only a dozen servants, primarily locals from Danzhou, save for a few maids who had been replaced over time. This familiarity led Fan Xian to trust them implicitly. Although he had previously met Old Ha, it struck him as odd that Old Ha would fall ill at such an opportune moment.
The room where Old Ha lay was enveloped in darkness, yet for Fan Xian, it felt as bright as daylight. He quietly entered and caught a faint whiff of blood in the air. Old Ha’s lifeless body was sprawled on the bed, shrouded in a cotton blanket with only his feet visible. The subtle scent of blood indicated that the assassin had attempted to clean up, and without the development of his keen sense of smell under Fei Jie’s guidance, Fan Xian likely would have overlooked it.
He discreetly moved to a corner where shadows concealed both himself and the assassin. Fan Xian quieted his mind and body, trying to imitate Whu Zhu—not perfectly, but very closely—and let Zhenqi flow smoothly through him, syncing his heartbeat with the surrounding noises.
According to Fei Jie, who had taught him much about the Overwatch Council, the assassin was likely still nearby; the Council's agents were known for their thoroughness. After poisoning Fan Xian, they would stay through the night to ensure the so-called illegitimate son was dead before slipping away from Danzhou under the cover of darkness. Since the assassin was masquerading as Old Ha’s nephew, he would be familiar with the villa's layout, preferring to remain in position rather than change spots.
However, Fan Xian couldn’t have anticipated how events would unfold. He scrutinized the room, noting that apart from Old Ha’s cold body on the bed, no one else was present. Carefully, he navigated along the wall, taking care not to disturb any furniture, while scanning the less noticeable corners of the ceiling.
As he made his way to the window where a sliver of light broke through, he realized Old Ha’s modest place had only one window, leaving the room dimly lit. Fan Xian positioned himself beside the window, using the contrast of light and dark to mask his presence.
After standing still for what felt like an eternity, frustration crept in. Had he miscalculated? Maybe the assassin had already escaped. If so, his hasty arrival, rather than handling Housekeeper Zhou directly, was a mistake.
Approaching the bed to uncover the mystery of Old Ha's death, tension gripped him as he closed the distance. Suddenly, he detected a suppressed breathing sound—a noise he hadn’t noticed in the commotion from the market until he was nearly upon it.
The assassin had concealed himself behind Old Ha’s body upon noticing the intruder's entrance. The breathing was remarkably steady, approximately seven breaths per minute—something Fan Xian would have missed without the enhancement of his Zhenqi, which sharpened his hearing.
He hesitated, staring intently at the bed, uncertain if it was a setup. Outside, the lively commotion of merchants filled the air, and he could hear the faint clatter of a particular carriage. Recognizing that a carriage would struggle to navigate the narrow road in front of the building, he remained silent, dagger ready.
The assassin maintained his patience, sensing that the intruder was just as careful, despite not being able to see who had entered. As time stretched on, doubt began to seep in, making him realize he had underestimated the dangers of Danzhou. Regret washed over him for deciding to stay behind to ensure his target’s death.
As the carriage rolled through the market, merchants on either side started shouting insults at the exasperated driver, who wouldn’t have taken this route if he hadn’t been pressed for time. The merchants struggled to clear a path for the carriage, and once they finally succeeded, the driver expressed his gratitude and prepared to move on. However, disaster struck when the carriage collided with a crate of eggs, enraging the egg merchant, who clung to the reins, unwilling to let go. This led to chaos erupting in the market.
Hearing the clamor outside, Fan Xian seized the opportunity and brought his right foot down with force. He vaulted to the side of the bed and ruthlessly plunged a thin dagger into the spot behind Old Ha’s body.
In that moment, Fan Xian caught a glimpse of the assassin’s face. His eyes were icy, and his brows were slightly unruly. Fan Xian assessed that he was quite young, of average appearance, with slightly thick lips and dark skin.
Taken completely by surprise, the assassin abruptly moved his right hand. A small, black crossbow bolt shot out from beneath the blanket, hurtling straight towards Fan Xian’s face. Anticipating the bolt's launch, Fan Xian had already landed with his arm raised, leaving his torso vulnerable.
The bolt zipped through the air like a streak of light.
Fan Xian reacted immediately upon the bolt being fired. Having endured six years of intense and brutal training from Wu Zhu, who wielded a stick that moved far quicker than this bolt, he didn’t fully commit his weight to the landing. Instead, he held himself in an awkward position in the air by twisting his toes, shifting a few inches to the right.
The bolt grazed Fan Xian's left cheek before embedding itself into the roof with a dull thud.
The assassin was taken aback. He couldn’t fathom that the person who had come to confront him was this striking youth, who should have been incapacitated by poison. Even more astonishing was the fact that this young man had managed to dodge a close-range, concealed crossbow shot!
At the same time, Fan Xian's dagger sank deeply into the assassin’s body with a disturbing, muffled sound. It felt as though he was stabbing through a slab of pork with a kitchen knife. Due to the need to evade the arrow, Fan Xian's aim was off, and he ended up stabbing the assassin in the shoulder, leaving him still alive.
The assassin writhed like an eel in water, preparing to strike Fan Xian fatally with his left hand. However, the pain in his shoulder, combined with being slammed into the bed, caused him to topple. The concealed crossbow slipped from his grasp.
He braced himself, but when he tried to get up, the pain was more intense than he ever could have imagined. Moreover, that boy’s dagger had pierced through his shoulder and stuck into the bed. He had been pinned to bed alive!
With the assassin completely neutralized, Fan Xian’s left hand clutched around his throat. The assassin finally showed his fear of death. His thick lips parted slightly as if wanting to say something.
Fan Xian’s heart tightened as he felt a chill. He didn’t give the assassin the chance to talk or retaliate. With a crunch, Fan Xian broke the assassin’s neck. His head slumped to the side, and he died instantly.
Fan Xian kept his hand on the assassin’s broken neck for a moment, feeling the crushed pieces of bone. As the assassin’s blood gradually cooled down, Fan Xian finally removed his hand and crouched over, panting heavily.
It took Fan Xian some time to calm down. The cold sweat made his clothes stick to his body.
He took the long, thin dagger out of the assassin’s shoulder. The terrible sound the blade made as it was dislodged from flesh and bone made him pause before he finally removed the small, insidiously hidden crossbow from the dead assassin’s sleeve.
The slender blade was covered in a black, opaque substance. Fan Xian knew Master Fei had created a poisonous black coating that could cause excruciating pain for anyone wounded. He carefully placed the blade inside an elephant scabbard and glanced at the corpses—those of the assassin on the bed and Old Ha, the vegetable seller underneath it—before he turned to leave.
As he opened the door, Wu Zhu stood quietly at the corner of the stairs. “If the carriage hadn’t come, what would you have done?” he asked.
Fan Xian lowered his head and remained silent for a long time. Finally, grasping the disturbing feelings from his first kill, he raised his head and smirked. “I would have stayed still like he did and waited for you to come.”
They climbed down from the wall again. The lessons he had learned while climbing the cliffs outside Danzhou had finally been used that day. Fan Xian lowered his feet to the floor and walked ahead, knowing that Wu Zhu would leave him and reappear when he was in danger.
As he moved through the busy market, he stayed silent, his right hand hanging loosely by his side and trembling softly.
[i] Commonly called civet cats, civets are not cats. In fact, they are more closely related to mongooses than they are to cats. A civet is a small, lean, mostly nocturnal mammal native to tropical Asia and Africa, especially the tropical forests.
|
|
|
 |