Chapter 817

Gao Jiong's voice was still rolling in the air when the three old farmers' movements were completed in synchronization.

The baskets were overturned in the mud, and wheat seeds scattered everywhere.

Three hands pulled a palm-length iron sleeve crossbow from the oil paper wrapping, each crossbow arm embedded with three eerie blue short needles, the tips coated with a layer of dark paint that was almost invisible.

Jianfeng Xuehou (See Blood Seal Throat).

Three sleeve crossbows aimed simultaneously at Chen Yan's back and forehead.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.

The three sounds of tearing through the air almost overlapped; six poison needles tore through the ten-step distance, moving so fast that even the blue light reflected on the needle tips was stretched into a thin line.

The commoners closest to them in the crowd erupted into a sharp scream that pierced the eardrums.

Zhang Wenqian rushed out two steps from the stone steps of the high platform, his mouth wide open, the blood color on his face fading completely in that instant.

"Zhuguo!"

Chen Yan did not move.

He didn't even turn around.

A moon-white afterimage cut in from his right side out of thin air, moving so fast it left only a straight line that the naked eye could barely track.

Hongye.

Her fine steel short sword wove an extremely tight sword flower in mid-air, and the blade completed all collisions with the six poison needles within the same breath.

Clang.

Clang.

Clang, clang, clang.

Five crisp sounds of metal clashing merged into a string; five poison needles were precisely deflected by the sword edge, some nailing into the mud, some bouncing toward the distant field ridge.

The sixth poison needle was not deflected.

Hongye's sword edge changed the direction of its force the moment it hit the sixth poison needle; it wasn't a block, but a ricochet.

The poison needle bounced back along an arc that had been precisely calculated.

The assassin on the left was reloading the second round of crossbow bolts; the poison needle nailed into the very center of their throat, sinking in half an inch.

Their body stiffened for a breath.

Then, from the neck, a terrifying cyan-black color spread rapidly along the patterns of the blood vessels, like the branches of a withered tree growing frantically on the surface of their skin.

Three breaths later, their entire complexion turned a livid color that made everyone who saw it recoil, and their body fell straight into the mud with a dull thud.

The eyes of the remaining two assassins turned blood-red in this instant.

One strike missed, and it was their own companion who died.

They threw away the sleeve crossbows and each pulled a dagger from beneath the dirt on their waists, the edges of the daggers coated with the same eerie blue paint; the two of them, like two venomous snakes driven to a dead end, lunged at Chen Yan from both sides simultaneously.

Chen Yan's soles turned slightly in the mud.

He turned his head.

What churned in those eyes was not fear, not even anger, but an extremely calm condescension that made the two assassins' lunging speed slow by half a beat in that instant.

It was like looking at two insects that had already been locked in a cage without realizing it.

Hongye's figure had already vanished from the spot the moment Chen Yan turned his head, the moon-white afterimage dragging out two almost overlapping straight lines.

The end of the first line was at the wrist of the assassin on the right; the sword edge sliced horizontally across their wrist joint, severing the dagger along with half the palm.

The end of the second line was at their knee bend; the sword tip pierced in from behind the knee, severing the most critical tendon supporting their lunging posture.

The assassin's body lost its balance, and as they lunged forward, three heavy iron shields slammed down from their side.

Embroidered Attire Envoys.

Six Embroidered Attire Envoys dressed in dark-colored tight-fitting clothes appeared from nowhere, three shields covering the assassin in the center, followed by six long spears thrusting out simultaneously from the gaps in the shields.

The dull sound of spear tips entering flesh merged into one, and the assassin's body was pierced by six long spears from different angles simultaneously, pinning them to the mud.

The last assassin was the leader.

They were faster than the other two; when their dagger was less than a foot from Chen Yan's ribs, a flash of successful madness flickered in their eyes.

A distance of one foot; they only needed to move forward half a step.

Their foot stepped out.

Then their foot stopped in mid-air.

Hongye's short sword pierced in between their right ribs, the blade passing through the lung lobe and stopping less than a finger's width from the heart.

The assassin leader's mouth opened wide, the dagger slipped from their hand and clattered twice against the mud.

Hongye did not push the sword forward by that finger's width.

Her left hand gripped the assassin leader's neck, dragging them backward and out of the range beside Chen Yan.

The assassin leader knelt in the mud, a line of blood foam overflowing from the corner of their mouth, their lips moving frantically, their cheeks bulging.

They were biting their teeth.

Biting the second molar on the upper right side, which was hollow and filled with the same poison as the needle tips.

Hongye's left foot kicked their mandible.

A crisp sound.

The mandible was dislocated from the joint, the mouth forced to an angle that a normal human facial structure could not withstand, and the molar hiding the poison sac, along with two adjacent teeth that were caught in the crossfire, flew out and rolled twice in the mud.

The assassin leader let out a garbled howl that was impossible to identify, and their entire body sprawled in the mud.

Gao Jiong rushed out from the crowd, stepped on the assassin leader's back, and pressed their face into the mud slurry.

"Tie them up, watch their tongues; if a single word is missing, the Zhuguo will have your whole family's lives."

Two Embroidered Attire Envoys stepped forward, iron chains wrapping three times around the assassin leader's wrists and ankles, the locks snapping shut.

The heavy armored infantry led by Lu Ming completed the blockade of the entire Royal Field within ten breaths, the sound of colliding iron armor merging into a metal tidal wave full of oppressive force, forcibly suppressing the chaotic crowd within the observation area.

Gu Yuci kept his hand on his sword hilt, standing beside the high platform, his gaze shaving across every face like a knife.

Hongye pulled her short sword from between the assassin leader's ribs, leaving two dark red stains on the edge of her moon-white sleeve.

She retreated to the position behind Chen Yan, sheathed the short sword into her sleeve, her breathing as steady as if that life-and-death struggle had never happened.

The entire process, from the firing of the sleeve crossbows to the last assassin being subdued.

Seven breaths.