Chapter 110: Poisoned Death (Third Watch)

Inside the inn, Fang Xu lay quietly beneath his warm quilt, yet for some reason, he could not stop shivering. Although the climate in the south was temperate, and the temperature difference between day and night was far less volatile than in the north, he felt a chill that defied logic. It was as if he were being watched, a sensation as though he had become prey to someone lurking in the shadows. It was a deeply unsettling feeling.

Fang Xu remained unaware that, thanks to Zhang He’s machinations, he had successfully provoked Murong Fu to the absolute peak of fury. The guard unit Murong Fu had summoned consisted of deathsworn soldiers trained by the Murong family for years, men who obeyed his commands with absolute devotion. Murong Fu’s first order was simple: kill Fang Xu without hesitation. To Murong Fu, the life of a Nine Ministers official was of little consequence; his status far exceeded that of a typical prefect, but such concerns were irrelevant to Murong Fu. At this moment, his heart was consumed entirely by hatred for Fang Xu.

Standing to the side, Zhang He trembled uncontrollably—not from fear, but from a surge of excitement. He could hardly wait to witness the grisly scene of Fang Xu’s slaughter. Upon receiving their orders, the guards did not care about the nature of the grudge between Murong Fu and Fang Xu. Since it was the master’s command, they would execute it unconditionally. With that, the group of men in black vanished from the hall. Zhang He watched them disappear into thin air and stood stunned for a moment, though he quickly convinced himself that this was only fitting. He waited with anticipation to see how Fang Xu would manage to escape this calamity. Once they had obtained the location of the inn, the men in black wore cold, impassive expressions, as if the task ahead were of no significance at all.

"Hm? Tonight is clearly not destined to be a peaceful one," remarked Old Wu, who should have been resting in his room but now appeared atop the eaves of the inn. Behind him, more than a dozen guards materialized, clad in flying-fish robes and python-patterned belts, with embroidered spring blades at their waists. "Since guests have arrived, we should treat them well." Old Wu lifted the teacup at his side and took a slow, deliberate sip. At his words, the men behind him vanished from their spots, moving with such stealth that they went completely unobserved. "Tonight is destined to be turbulent," Old Wu murmured with a faint smile. He drained his cup, stood up, and leaped toward the ground below.

The guard unit had just reached the perimeter of the inn, not yet having had the chance to search for Fang Xu’s room, when they encountered Old Wu and his men. There was no need for talk; they drew their blades and clashed immediately. Though the guards were well-trained, they were no match for the Imperial Guards. Before long, they were surrounded. Old Wu scrutinized the blades in the hands of the men in black with a thoughtful gaze. "Are you people from the Murong family?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. The men in black ignored him entirely. "Do you truly think you can escape? You would be better off confessing," Old Wu pressed. He was right; escape was impossible. Under such circumstances, cooperation would have been the most logical choice to avoid further physical torment, but the actions of the men in black left Old Wu and his men stunned.

Instead of surrendering, the men in black charged again. Because Old Wu had intended to take them alive, his men held back, resulting in several of the guards sustaining injuries. This thoroughly enraged Old Wu, and with a thunderous roar, the tide turned; the men in black were ruthlessly subdued. Finally, after securing several prisoners, Old Wu and his men let out a sigh of relief. "Damn it! Are these guys even human? Even in this state, they won't give up?" several guards muttered, clutching their bleeding wounds in disbelief. Compared to the tenacity of these attackers, their own injuries seemed trivial.

The men in black, bound and thrown to the ground, were covered in wounds, yet they seemed to feel no pain at all. Did they lack the capacity for suffering? Or what drove them to such extremes?

"Pfft!" Before the guards could interrogate them, the bound men began to cough up blood, one after another, until none remained alive.

"Are these people mad? They committed suicide by biting down on poison?" The guards looked on in disbelief at the dozen or so corpses. The poison had clearly been hidden in their mouths in advance, intended to be triggered if their mission failed. This method was not unfamiliar to Old Wu; he had seen such tactics when battling the wild tribes of the northern frontiers. It took immense resolve to commit to such an end, fearing that they might reveal something they shouldn't.

"These must be deathsworn soldiers. But I wonder who is really targeting the Young Master," Old Wu murmured, his brow furrowed with worry. The deaths of these men were a dead end. If the mastermind in the shadows remained at large, Fang Xu’s safety could not be guaranteed. "Clear this place, and double the guards watching the young ladies the Young Master brought back," Old Wu ordered as he turned to leave. To him, the timing of these events felt far too coincidental. The arrival of those women, followed by the appearance of these assassins—it all seemed to point toward a deeper design. The guards understood the implication without needing further explanation and set about cleaning the scene. No one noticed the hidden eyes watching from the dark—eyes that even Old Wu had failed to detect.

"It seems the Young Master will face even more trouble in the future," Old Wu whispered to himself. "I only hope he can withstand it."