jdhmnovel Chapter 607
Chapter 607
She gasped, then swiftly blew out the candle, her figure disappearing into the shadows like a nimble cat. The dagger slid from her sleeve; its icy touch brought her back to her senses, but her heart pounded like a drum, making her chest ache.
The man in black robes moved slowly along the wall, his face completely covered by a black cloth, revealing only a pair of hawk-like eyes. He pried open the window, his movements almost silent, and crouched low as he slipped into the room. By the moonlight, he groped his way to the desk, his fingertips just touching the hidden compartment when a chilling sensation suddenly shot through his neck. Dongfang Wan'er had appeared before him, a dagger pressed firmly against his throat: "Speak, who sent you!" Her voice was as cold as an icicle in the dead of winter.
The black-robed figure let out a sinister laugh, and before Dongfang Wan'er could react, he suddenly bit into the hidden poison sac. Sweet-smelling blood gushed out instantly, the warm liquid splashing onto her face, carrying a pungent, bitter almond smell. Dongfang Wan'er's pupils constricted, and she instinctively took a half-step back, watching the black-robed figure collapse to the ground, a sinister smile still lingering on his lips.
"Bang!" The courtyard gate was kicked open with a thud, and the Prince of Zhennan rushed in, sword in hand, his black brocade robe stained with night dew. He surveyed the scene inside, his brows furrowing into a deep frown, his gaze sweeping over the purplish-blue face of the man in black robes: "The poisoned wine has entered the kitchen; the danger is not yet over." Before he finished speaking, he had already turned and strode out. Dongfang Wan'er wiped the blood from her face, took a deep breath, and followed, her skirt brushing against the blue bricks, creating a soft rustling sound.
Inside the kitchen, the stove burned brightly, and the soup in the copper pot bubbled and steamed, its aroma mingling with an eerie sweetness that filled the air. A chef stood with his back to the door, a celadon bottle hidden in his sleeve slowly tilting. Just as the poisoned wine was about to drip, the Prince of Zhennan's sword pierced his wrist with pinpoint accuracy. The celadon bottle fell to the ground and shattered, the emerald liquid sizzling on the blue bricks and rising in wisps of white smoke. The chef's face paled instantly; he tried to escape but was restrained by Dongfang Wan'er, a dagger pressed against his back.
A night breeze swept through the hall, causing the lanterns to sway. The Prince of Zhennan gazed at the mess on the floor, his eyes heavy. Beneath the seemingly calm surface of the Marquis's mansion lay a turbulent undercurrent, a place teeming with murderous intent. Dongfang Wan'er and the Prince of Zhennan exchanged a glance, their eyes filled with vigilance and determination. Who was the mastermind lurking in the shadows? What conspiracy was hidden beneath? In this perilous night, the truth shrouded the Marquis's mansion like a fog, and they must unravel the mystery, protecting each other and the peace that lay beneath the turbulent undercurrents.
The twilight was blood-red, the evening glow staining the blue bricks of the Prince Zhen's kitchen a dark red. Dongfang Wan'er gripped the chef by the back of his collar, slamming him heavily onto a rosewood chair. His gilded armor gleamed coldly in the candlelight. The Prince Zhen'an's black python robe swept across the floor, the jade pendants at his waist clinking softly. He tapped the table with his finger: "Third time. Who ordered you to deliver the poisoned wine to the Princess's room?"
The cook's neck veins bulged, and cold sweat trickled down his forehead along the knife scar. He bit his lower lip hard, drops of salty blood dripping onto his coarse cloth shirt, forcing back a sob. Suddenly, the Prince of Zhennan grabbed a teacup from the table, the sound of shattering porcelain startling everyone. They saw scalding tea poured onto the cook's feet, but the man only groaned, enduring the excruciating pain.
Just then, a faint clatter of tiles came from outside the window. The Prince of Zhennan's pupils contracted sharply as he caught a glimpse of a dark shadow flashing from the eaves. He abruptly stood up, his soft sword drawn half an inch from its sheath, its cold light reflecting dozens of dark figures outside the window—men in black, their faces covered with veils, their curved iron blades gleaming with a ghostly blue, completely surrounding the kitchen. The leader's poisoned weapon reflected the cold light, scraping against the windowpane with a hissing sound.
"Protect the Prince!" Dongfang Wan'er whirled around, shielding the Prince of Zhennan. Her dagger sliced through the twilight, leaving a gleaming silver arc in the air. Having grown up on the edge of the martial world, a ruthless glint appeared in her eyes. Her phoenix eyes narrowed slightly as she forcefully shoved the cook in her arms against the wall: "Stay alive, you'll be useful later!"
The Prince of Zhennan drew his longsword like a dragon from its sheath, the tip striking the ground with a dragon's roar. The two stood back to back, the candlelight flickering on the blades. The Prince of Zhennan whispered, "This is a Heavenly Net Formation; the enemy planned this long ago." Before he finished speaking, the man in black burst through the window, his curved blade carrying a stench of blood as he aimed straight for his face.
Amidst the flashing blades, the Prince of Zhennan used an unorthodox approach, his sword tassel grazing the wrist of a man in black, leaving a bloody gash in the distance. Dongfang Wan'er, on the other hand, focused on the lower body, her dagger stabbing swiftly along the ground, striking two men in black in the ankles, who fell to the ground screaming in pain. The stench of blood mingled with the smoke of gunpowder, and an overturned candlestick ignited the curtains, flames licking at the beams and pillars, distorting the figures in the carnage into a grotesque and grotesque image.
However, the number of men in black grew larger and larger, with another group emerging from nowhere. The Prince of Zhennan's left shoulder was grazed by the blade, and blood soaked through his embroidered gold robes. Dongfang Wan'er's hairpins fell loose, her black hair disheveled, yet she wielded her dagger with even greater ferocity. She seized an opening and threw three bone-piercing nails, striking the throats of the men in black, but in the blink of an eye, three more men filled the gap.
At the critical moment, the rapid sound of horses' hooves came from afar, their iron hooves shattering the night. The Prince of Zhennan's personal guards, carrying torches, rushed in, their red-tasseled spears like a forest, gleaming with a chilling killing intent in the firelight. Seeing the situation was dire, one of the men in black blew a bamboo whistle, and the group retreated swiftly like a receding tide, leaving behind only corpses and lingering smoke.
The night wind, carrying the stench of blood, swept into the kitchen. Dongfang Wan'er watched as the Prince of Zhennan bandaged his wound, and suddenly realized that the bleeding sword wound resembled the winding dragon pattern on the screen wall of the Prince's mansion. She subconsciously touched the hidden compartment at her waist, where the half of the jade pendant that the Princess Consort had given her before her death was kept. The icy touch against her heart through the silk felt burning hot to her now.
"Investigate." The Prince of Zhennan suddenly spoke, casually tossing a blood-stained strip of cloth onto the table, startling a few moths drawn to the light. "Three days ago, the silk shop south of the city caught fire; five days ago, horses died suddenly at the suburban post station. Connect these strange events." As he turned, the candlelight cast his shadow on the wall, overlapping with the haphazardly scattered corpses to create an eerie scene. "The person behind this wanted me to believe it was just an assassination attempt, but little did they know that the more deliberate the attempt, the more obvious the flaws become."
Just as Dongfang Wan'er was about to respond, the chef in the corner suddenly began to convulse violently. Black blood spilled from the corner of his mouth, his turbid eyes stared intently at her, and a gurgling sound came from his throat. His withered fingers struggled to make gestures in the air, finally freezing into a crooked "王" (king) character. By the time the two rushed over, the chef was already dead, his body bluish-purple in the flickering candlelight, as if all life had been drained from him.
“To silence them.” The Prince of Zhennan crouched down, his fingertip dabbing at the black blood from the corpse’s lips, and examined it closely by candlelight. “The poison that kills on contact with blood, the arsenic, comes from the same source as the poison that afflicted the Princess.” He suddenly sneered, a silver needle sliding from his sleeve. He inserted the needle behind the cook’s ear and pulled out half a vermilion-red pill. “So they had already taken the poison pill. These people are certainly meticulous in their planning.”
Dongfang Wan'er's pupils constricted sharply. She recalled that stormy night half a month ago, when the carved window frames in the Princess's room rattled in the fierce wind. She had just entered with the antidote when she saw the Princess clutching a blood-stained handkerchief, pointing at the spilled pastries and saying in a trembling voice, "The frosting... is poisoned..." Now, looking at the poison pill behind the chef's ear, she suddenly realized that those seemingly casual carvings on the pastries might be clues left by the Princess before her death.
“Your Highness, look at this.” She pulled half a jade pendant from her bosom. Moonlight shone through the tattered window paper onto the warm jade surface, revealing the subtly engraved cloud patterns. “When the Princess Consort left, she was clutching this in her hand.” Before she finished speaking, the sharp sound of clashing weapons suddenly rang out from outside the courtyard, followed by a series of screams. The Prince of Zhennan abruptly flung open the tattered window curtains. In the northwest corner, flames soared into the sky, and through the thick smoke, a banner embroidered with subtle gold patterns could be vaguely seen—the insignia of the Crown Prince's personal guards.
"It really was him." The Prince of Zhennan frowned slightly, drawing his longsword once more, its blade reflecting the churning dark clouds on the horizon. "My good nephew of mine is quite composed." He turned to Dongfang Wan'er, a barely perceptible worry flashing in his eyes. "Take the Princess's belongings and leave through the secret passage. Tomorrow at dawn, wait for me at the dilapidated temple in the west of the city."
Dongfang Wan'er was about to retort when the Prince of Zhennan raised his hand to stop her. A series of rapid footsteps approached from afar, sounding like a hundred people. She gritted her teeth, carefully put the jade pendant away, and suddenly tore off a corner of her skirt, dipped it in the cook's blood, and drew a tattered peony on the wall. "This is a return gift for those behind the scenes," she sneered, her eyes flashing with murderous intent. "They thought killing those in the know would put them at ease, but they forgot that the dead can also speak."
With a deafening crash as the courtyard gate collapsed, the Prince of Zhennan stood before her, his sword pointed directly at the approaching shadow in the night. Dongfang Wan'er glanced one last time at the peonies on the wall, then turned and disappeared into the tunnel. The tunnel reeked of mildew. She hurried along the damp stone walls, her mind racing with various clues: the Crown Prince's banner, arsenic, carved pastries… When she reached the crooked locust tree at the tunnel's exit, she suddenly remembered the "Wang" the cook had gestured before his death—perhaps it didn't refer to a prince at all, but rather to the surname "Wang."
As night deepened, the smoke of battle still lingered over the Prince's mansion. Dongfang Wan'er gripped the dagger hidden in her sleeve and ran towards the dilapidated temple. She knew this was only the beginning. The real game had only just begun.
The rotting wood beneath Dongfang Wan'er's feet groaned under the weight of the tunnel. Cold sweat mingled with dried blood, making her palms, gripping the dagger, sticky and piercing. The faint light at the end of the tunnel was like a dying fishing light in the deep sea; with each step forward, the chill of the ground crept up her spine from the soles of her boots. When she finally pushed aside the stone slab half-buried in the weeds, the damp night air, carrying the sweet, fishy scent of locust blossoms, rushed towards her, but the distant neighing of horses sent a chill down her spine, making her feel as if she had fallen into an ice cave.
The moonlight gilded the black armor of the Crown Prince's guards with silver edges, and the glow of their torches flickered on the bluestone path, much like the dimly lit candles in the Prince's kitchen. Dongfang Wan'er slowly squatted down against the earthen wall, the rough bricks digging painfully into her back. She held her breath and counted the number of riders: seventeen riders, each with a token engraved with a coiled dragon hanging from their waist—the very same mark that had appeared at the silk shop fire three days ago.
The wind suddenly shifted, slapping stray hairs from her temples against her face. Dongfang Wan'er abruptly covered her mouth and nose, only to see the guard at the front suddenly sniffle. The man's face was marred by a gruesome scar, and his knuckles, gripping his long sword, turned white with force: "There's the smell of blood! Be alert!" His blade pointed directly at the wild rose bush where Dongfang Wan'er was hiding, the sharp edge severing flower stems, the thorny vines trembling.
Dongfang Wan'er pressed the dagger against her wrist artery; the icy touch reminded her of the princess's dying pupils. She took a deep breath, preparing to pounce the moment the blade fell—just then, a rustling sound came from the depths of the grass. A gray hare darted out like an arrow, knocking over the copper bell at the guard's feet. The crisp sound startled the horse, causing the frightened guard to rear up. He cursed and swung his sword wildly, the blade tracing chaotic arcs in the moonlight.
Taking advantage of the commotion, Dongfang Wan'er moved along the ground in a serpentine motion. Thorny vines tore at her neck, each cut burning like fire. When she finally rolled into the roadside ditch, the furious shouts of her guards echoed in the distance: "Chase! Find the rabbit alive or dead!" She lay in the murky water, listening to the sound of hooves gradually fade into the distance, until the wound on the back of her neck began to scab over, before she dared to shakily get up.
The eaves of the dilapidated temple in the west of the city resembled the fangs of a giant beast under the moonlight. As soon as Dongfang Wan'er stepped across the threshold, a medicinal fragrance wafted towards her. The Prince of Zhennan leaned against a weathered Buddha statue, blood-stained strips of cloth swaying gently in the candlelight. Half a scroll of confidential documents lay open on his lap, and beside the still-wet ink annotations was half a jade pendant—the very half that Dongfang Wan'er had hidden in her inner pocket.
"You fell while climbing over the wall?" The Prince of Zhennan's voice was hoarse, but softened abruptly when he saw the bruises on her ankle. He reached out to help her up, but froze in mid-air, ultimately simply spreading his cloak on the cobweb-covered altar. "Sit."
Dongfang Wan'er slumped onto her cloak, her heavy breathing causing her wounds to bleed again. "Your Highness, the guards aren't checking for assassins... they're checking for jade pendants." She pulled out an object from her bosom; the moment the two jade pieces were joined together, the hidden patterns formed the emblem of the Wang Clan Ancestral Hall. Suddenly, the hooting of an owl echoed outside the temple, and the shadow of the Prince of Zhennan twisted into a menacing shape on the wall: "The Crown Prince's birth mother was originally a concubine's daughter of the Wang family. Over the years, she has secretly raised assassins and privately forged weapons..." His knuckles tapped on a certain spot in the secret archives, the candlelight illuminating a dense array of names, "Wang family members are spread throughout the Six Ministries, even the Grand Master of the Imperial Pharmacy..."
Before the words were finished, the sound of arrows piercing the air suddenly came from outside the dilapidated temple. The Prince of Zhennan spun around and swung his sword, three poisoned crossbow bolts embedding themselves in the beams and pillars, their scarlet feathers fluttering in the wind. Dongfang Wan'er looked at the vermilion bird pattern on the arrow fletchings and suddenly remembered the poison pill behind the cook's ear—that touch of vermilion red was exactly the same color as the pearl on the Crown Prince's crown.
“It’s time to close the net.” The Prince of Zhennan tucked the jade pendant into his robes, and with his longsword, he picked up the secret documents on the table and threw them into the brazier. The leaping flames stained the silhouettes of the two men crimson. He unfastened the black iron token from his waist and tossed it to Dongfang Wan’er. “Tomorrow at 9:00 AM, go to the dock and find the ‘Yun Jin’ ship. Remember, the Wang family’s most fatal weakness is hidden in the canal transport ledgers.”
The footsteps outside the temple grew closer. Dongfang Wan'er gripped the token tightly, feeling the uneven dragon patterns on the metal surface dig into her palm. As the first rays of dawn pierced the night, she and the Prince of Zhennan stood back to back beneath the dilapidated dome, the gleam of their swords reflecting the sunlight, a scene reminiscent of their shared battle that night in the kitchen. And those eyes lurking in the shadows would finally be exposed to the blazing sun in the impending storm.