Her elder sister must have discovered something; otherwise, she wouldn’t have offered five thousand taels of silver to settle the matter.
“It seems this deal is off,” Song Jinzhao said coldly, the killing intent in her eyes intensifying.
Song Qiming and Song Shixue gripped their swords in their right hands. The hidden arrows tucked inside their left sleeves were primed and ready, poised to claim the lives of the five assassins from the Suoming Gate at any moment.
Inside the carriage, Song Gaoli held Song Anhao tightly, not daring to poke his head out.
When did his own life become worth a thousand taels of silver?
The long whip in Huangquan Ghost’s hand hissed like a soaring serpent, striking directly at Song Jinzhao’s face.
Song Jinzhao neither dodged nor retreated. The tip of her spear, like a cold star streaking through the pitch-black night, accurately struck the handle of the whip.
With a forceful upward flick, she forced him back. A sharp, ruthless glint flashed in Huangquan Ghost’s eyes as his toes tapped the ground, his body spinning twice in a rapid retreat to break free from Song Jinzhao’s pursuit.
“The girl has quite some strength,” he thought. The impact had nearly shattered his wrist.
Once Huangquan Ghost was forced back, two other assassins swung their swords at Song Jinzhao, while the remaining two launched an attack on the carriage from different directions.
Song Shixue summoned her courage and raised her sword to meet the enemy. Since she had begun her martial arts training, this was her first real combat experience involving bloodshed.
Having survived one such encounter before, Song Qiming’s gaze was significantly more determined.
In a situation like this, it was kill or be killed.
Hearing the continuous, sharp clanging of metal from outside the carriage, Song Gaoli’s heart leaped into his throat.
Song Anhao reached out his short, chubby hand to lift the window curtain.
Song Gaoli immediately grabbed the small hand and pulled it back. “My little ancestor, how can you be as bold as your eldest sister?”
“Look, outside!” Song Anhao waved his fist, his upper body leaning outward.
Song Gaoli covered the boy’s ears and rested his chin on top of the child's head.
“You mustn’t look. If you have nightmares tonight, your brother and sister will skin me alive.”
Of the four Song siblings, this little one had the best luck; he hadn’t suffered a day since the moment he was born.
Raised fair and chubby, anyone who saw him would take him for a child of a wealthy, noble house.
The Lingyun Spear swept out with the force of a thousand-strong army. The shaft slammed into the chests of three men, the resulting vibration sending a persistent hum through the air that left their ears ringing.
Huangquan Ghost’s face paled as he clutched his chest and dropped to one knee. He had never seen a woman wield a spear with such mastery. Even more shocking was that every one of Song Jinzhao’s strikes was aimed at a lethal point.
She was more cold-blooded than a professional assassin like himself. Her hands must have been stained with many lives.
This was not the behavior of a sixteen-year-old girl; even the Suoming Gate couldn't train an assassin like this.
Song Qiming struggled to withstand a heavy blow from his opponent. His left hand flicked, firing a sleeve arrow at the man.
The assassin’s pupils constricted as he dodged frantically.
Song Shixue was not as strong as her opponent. As the assassin pressed his blade against hers, her body slid backward, the soles of her shoes scraping against the ground until they felt as thin as paper.
“Remember, if a man attacks you, lift your leg and use all your strength to strike his most vulnerable spot.”
Her sister’s words from their close-quarters combat training echoed in her mind, the scene playing out vividly before her eyes.
Song Jinzhao’s face—sharp as a blade during her stern lessons—seemed to overlap with the assassin’s black mask. As the two images merged, Song Shixue raised her leg and delivered a heavy knee strike between the man’s legs.
It felt as if something had exploded.
“Argh!” His features contorted, his eyes above the mask bulging in agony.
His longsword clattered to the ground as the assassin collapsed, rolling back and forth while clutching his groin, howling in pain.
The sound carried for miles, echoing through the entire mountain.
Song Jinzhao glanced over, a sharp glint of approval flashing in her eyes at the sight.
While fending off Huangquan Ghost’s attacks, she roared in a low voice, “Shixue, kill him!”
Song Shixue looked at Song Jinzhao, who was currently fighting off three men at once. She swallowed nervously, took a deep breath, and stepped toward the fallen assassin.
Seeing the man still doubled over in pain, she gripped her sword tight and raised it high.
The tip of the sword pierced through the man’s hand and drove deep between his legs.
An earth-shattering scream pierced the sky, waking a pregnant wolf sleeping in her distant den.
Driven by an intense curiosity to know how the battle was faring, Song Gaoli pressed Song Anhao’s face into his chest while he cautiously peeled back the curtain with his other hand. The scene he witnessed was one he would never forget.
A flash of cold steel, and a drop of warm blood splattered onto his face.
Song Gaoli recoiled in terror against the carriage wall, his breath hitching. The horrifying image of Song Shixue slitting the assassin’s throat, blood spurting everywhere, flashed repeatedly in his mind.
Through the corner of his eye, via the swaying curtain, he saw Song Qiming seize the moment as the poison took effect, plunging a sword vertically into another assassin’s chest.
Song Gaoli opened his mouth but couldn't make a sound; it was as if he had lost his voice.
Just as Song Anhao managed to pull his head free and was about to turn around, Song Gaoli instinctively covered the boy’s eyes, his voice as faint as a mosquito’s buzz. “Don’t look.”
From now on, he would never worry about Song Qiming being bullied at the academy again. Ultimately, it was his own lack of experience and narrow-mindedness that had misled him.
He wondered if this little toddler would grow up to catch up to his siblings. He had a feeling the boy would be a formidable character as well.
