The difference between a death warrior and an assassin lies in their unwavering resolve to kill their target at all costs, even if it means sacrificing their own lives or those of their comrades. That is why the aura of death around them is so heavy.
Though it was still afternoon, the sky grew increasingly dark, with thick, ominous clouds gathering overhead, blotting out the sun.
The death warriors leaped down from the rooftops, their murderous intent soaring as they charged straight toward the carriage, swords raised to strike!
"Death warriors! Protect Madam and the young master!"
At Cui Liu's shout, all the guards drew their swords and rushed into battle, while Buyan swiftly took over the reins from the coachman, steering the carriage toward the General's Manor.
Amid the clashing of blades, the death warriors' ferocious momentum bore down on the carriage, their relentless sword strikes threatening to cleave the occupants inside to pieces.
Xu Wan quickly grabbed Zong Jincheng's hand, crouching low in the carriage to shield themselves. The sounds of battle outside grew louder, the tension making their hearts pound wildly.
"Mother, is someone trying to kill us?"
Xu Wan shook her head. "I don't know."
But she had a vague suspicion—it might have something to do with Jincheng.
Zong Jincheng tightened his grip on her arm, his sharp ears picking up the movement. "The carriage is moving—are we retreating? Or have we been taken?"
He wanted to lift the curtain and look, but Xu Wan stopped him. "Don't open it. We have no martial skills—showing ourselves would only cause trouble. I trust our household guards."
These were the Marquis Manor's finest, not invincible but formidable nonetheless, especially with Buyan and Cui Liu outside. There was no need for them to worry.
"Alright, I won't look." Zong Jincheng obediently agreed, staying still in the carriage, his breath tense.
In the cramped space, mother and son held onto each other, offering comfort in the midst of chaos.
Before long, Luo Jingfeng's voice suddenly rang out from outside: "Capture them all! Slaughter them where they stand!"
A death warrior's mouth could never be pried open.
These men had no value alive.
Anyone who dared lay a hand on Jincheng would be torn to pieces!
Zong Jincheng heard him first and cried out excitedly, "Mother, it's Uncle! Our reinforcements are here! We're safe now!"
Xu Wan also let out a relieved sigh, smiling faintly. "They arrived quickly—almost as if they were nearby. Did they know this would happen?"
Zong Jincheng grinned. "Father and Uncle must have known who these people were and waited for them. Hmph! A bunch of villains trying to kill us—they're nothing!" He made to lift the curtain again. "I’ll go cheer them on!"
Xu Wan held him back. "Don’t cause trouble. Wait until the fighting is over."
"Oh… fine, I’ll listen to you." Zong Jincheng pouted, disappointed at missing the excitement.
The two remained inside for what felt like an eternity. Whether Luo Jingfeng had brought too few men or the death warriors were too strong, the battle outside showed no sign of ending.
After what seemed like the time it took to drink a cup of tea, the clamor finally began to fade.
Luo Jingfeng's voice called out, "Jincheng, it's over. They're all dead."
Zong Jincheng's eyes lit up, and he immediately let go of Xu Wan, leaping out of the carriage in excitement. The guards were already cleaning up the corpses, blood pooling across the ground.
This was the first time the little troublemaker had seen dead bodies, but he had no real understanding of life and death—only that these death warriors were evil and deserved their fate.
He counted as he walked. "So many death warriors—nearly twenty. No wonder it took so long."
Luo Jingfeng strode toward him, scoffing. "Twenty elite fighters—probably their entire force. Today, I’ll—"
Before he could finish, a black-clad figure suddenly dropped from above, right in Zong Jincheng's line of sight!
The boy screamed, "Uncle, watch out!"
Luo Jingfeng dodged swiftly, spinning around to slash at the death warrior with his sword.
But at that moment, Zong Jincheng heard a muffled groan beside him—then warm, wet blood splashed onto his neck.
"Step back, Young Master!" Buyan rushed over, engaging the newly appeared assassin in combat.
They had thought all twenty death warriors were dead, but just now, one had attacked Luo Jingfeng as a distraction—while another had emerged behind Zong Jincheng.
The leader of the assassins had been waiting for this moment.
The Emperor's orders were clear: spare no cost, eliminate the bastard child at all costs.
This final strike was delivered with everything he had—even Luo Jingfeng wouldn’t have been able to block it unscathed.
But then—
A shadowy figure materialized out of nowhere, shielding Zong Jincheng with his own body.
The assassination had failed.
He would never complete his mission now.
All the guards surged toward him, and no matter how skilled he was, he couldn’t withstand their relentless assault. Defeat was only a matter of time.
The world around Zong Jincheng was chaos.
Yet in his ears, there was only one sound—a weak, ragged breath.
He turned stiffly, his chest heaving.
Then he saw a face—utterly ordinary, yet somehow achingly familiar, as if they had known each other for years.
"Who… who are you?"
Why would this person risk his life to protect him?
Why… had he never seen him before?
This was his personal shadow guard.
His name was An Ying.
Three years ago, Xu Wan had assigned An Ying to watch over the little troublemaker. He had silently observed Zong Jincheng’s mischief and recklessness, always remembering Xu Wan’s command: never intervene unless absolutely necessary.
Now, at last, he had revealed himself—but blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
An Ying smiled faintly, his body collapsing weakly. His gaze lingered on Zong Jincheng, full of reluctant affection. Three years of watching over him, even if the boy never knew—he had grown to cherish this clever, unruly child.
If they could survive this…
The road ahead would be smooth, wouldn’t it?
Young Master Jincheng…
May your life be peaceful and long.
An Ying’s eyes closed. He never got to speak a single word before slipping into eternal slumber.
Zong Jincheng stumbled back in horror, wiping the blood from An Ying’s lips with trembling hands. "D-don’t sleep! Wake up! Our manor has a house physician—I’ll get you the best doctors, I’ll call for the imperial physicians! Just hold on, please—"
Luo Jingfeng crouched down, checking An Ying’s pulse before withdrawing his hand in silence.
Zong Jincheng grabbed his sleeve desperately. "Uncle, how is he? Can he still be saved?"
