Chapter 173: Assassination

Fengling spun around abruptly, her cheeks flushed, not knowing how to face him, but at the thought of Lady Aishar's terror, the brief flutter of her heart was instantly extinguished.

From afar a sudden cheer erupted as the fishing prayer ceremony ended, and in the wooden basin lifted on the altar lay, as expected, twelve silver fish whose bodies were speckled with star‑spots.

The crowd began to flow toward the main tent, and amid the clinking of cups and goblets, Robin heard her speak in a voice only the two of them could hear: "What exactly do you want to do?"

Robin was momentarily speechless, then forced a bitter smile and said, "I'm looking for a noble who can support my cultivation."

The moon reflected on the lake was suddenly hidden by clouds, and the festival lights flickered on and off in the dusk.

Fengling couldn't help but laugh out loud: "Robin, did you know that besides Bow Knight you have a new title?"

Robin shook his head in confusion.

"They call you 'Lord‑Devouring Knight.'"

Amid the cheering of silver fish leaping on the lake, she slipped him a yellowed wanted notice stamped in red with "Illicit liaison with a fallen wizard to assassinate the former lord."

Robin's mouth twitched, and Fengling's laugh was like a venomous needle coated in honey. A sidelong glance caught a group of nobles in the distance holding poisonous wine, and she whispered, "Word spreads across the Western Frontier that you are a calamity‑starred demon god, yet the lady insists on using you against the wind."

"Use me?"

Fengling suddenly leaned close, her warm breath scented with cornflower drifting toward him: "A token of allegiance."

The three words were as light as moonlight on the lake, yet they sent a sudden chill down his nape.

Her fingertip flicked swiftly over the rusted badge on his collarbone: "Viscount Bu Lai En."

The name made Robin's pupils contract; that dog‑headed strategist of Duke Huo Ke, who had just a week earlier proposed cutting the border knights' rations in the council hall, was now holding a gilt wine cup, toasting with Lady Aishar's mortal enemy.

"Gods unaware, ghosts unseen," Fengling's fingertip tapped the wanted notice on his palm, "He plans to meet his lover at the Lake Pavilion tonight. When the tide is at its peak, the wooden boardwalk will be submerged three feet." She suddenly fell silent, staring at the bulging vial at his waist, its red powder glowing eerily in the moonlight.

Robin suddenly recalled the old steward's "Dark Blade" theory.

Viscount Bu Lai En's boots were always stained with the red earth of the Eastern Frontier, and on the map in Lady Aishar's study, the same‑colored powder marked twenty‑seven iron ore sites.

The dying curse shouted by the "male favorite" who was hanged three days ago.

"Whether you acted or not," Fengling stepped back two paces, "as long as he dies during the tide festival, the duke's purge will end early, and the lady's fleet will be able to take over the Eastern Frontier trade route before dawn."

A crisp sound of a broken violin string echoed across the lake.

Robin watched the viscount's silhouette as he walked toward the Lake Pavilion, the duke's crest on his cloak shimmering into golden flecks beneath the glass lantern.

He brushed his new Tang Sword, realizing that a token of allegiance was never blood but a way to make him a "demon god," a pawn for the nobles to crush any obstacles.

"There are two more intervals of the tide," Fengling said as she turned, a blue bellflower slipping from her hair into the puddle by his boot, "Sir Knight, have you heard the legend of Beilonger Lake? Those cursed by the Moon God become silver fish after death, forever trapped in the barbs of a fishing net."

Before her voice was drowned by the drinking song, Robin heard a cold sneer from deep within himself.

The so‑called "calamity star" of a Legendary Knight is merely a rope the nobles clutch, and this time he would loop that rope around the neck written with conspiracy.

When the candles in the Lake Pavilion were lit, Robin brushed his new Tang Sword at his waist.

This newly forged Tang Sword has never seen blood, but it killed a man of Duke Huo Ke, so he harbored no psychological obstacle.

Robin crouched atop the Lake Pavilion, the moonlight shaping his shadow into a thin blade.

Viscount Bu Lai En's laughter, mingled with the scent of wine, floated up as he sliced foie gras with a gem‑set dagger; the duke's crest on his ring clinked against the edge of a silver plate, producing a delicate chime.

When the tide washed over the seventh wooden stake of the boardwalk, Robin released the pebble from his fingers.

The thud of the stone sinking into the lake perfectly masked the sound of his jump, and the instant his boot brushed the tile, he had already drawn the new Tang Sword hidden in his cloak.

The viscount's lover suddenly pointed at the roof and shouted, while Robin's new Tang Sword pressed against her nape.

"Close your eyes." His voice was like a bowstring tempered with ice.

The woman trembled all over as she shut her eyes, gold dust still clinging to her lashes, and as Viscount Bu Lai En's hand reached for the sword hilt at his waist, Robin pressed his boot tip onto the wrist.

"Look closely; this is a clean kill." Robin's knee pressed against the viscount's plump back, hearing the victim's spine emit a strained, light crack.

The new Tang Sword slanted in from beneath the jaw, the hilt disappearing a inch, warm blood splashing onto the glass tiles, brighter than the golden marigolds of the festival.

The viscount's legs twitched twice, then collapsed limp like a sack of wheat; his eyes remained wide with terror, yet he could not utter even a half‑cry.

Robin tore the corpse's collar to wipe his blade, catching sight of a parchment map spread on the desk.

Beside the Eastern Frontier's mineral markings, a whispered note read "Night Dew Grass Operation," and the red crayon marking the iron ore matched exactly the one in Lady Aishar's study.

He rolled the map into a cylinder and slipped it into his chest, then casually hung the viscount's side sword on the windowsill.

The duke's crest on the scabbard glowed coldly in the moonlight; it was the perfect "clue" for the patrol guards.

The lover still kept her eyes closed, her lashes shedding gold dust as they trembled.

Robin fished a silver coin from his purse and slipped it into her clenched palm: "Open your eyes after three breaths and scream."

The woman let out a whimper from her throat, but at the instant he leapt out the window, she erupted in a scream that pierced the night sky.

Robin sprinted across the shadow of the floating bridge, blood stains on his boot spreading dark blossoms across the planks.

Shouts and clanking armor of the patrol guards echoed behind him; he brushed his new Tang Sword, its blade still warm from his body but now cooled like ice.

As he slipped into the toasting crowd of the main tent, Lady Aishar was holding a gilt wine cup, gazing toward the Lake Pavilion, the curve of her lips mirroring the expression she wore three days earlier while watching an execution.

When the tide receded, Robin stood on the dock of Beilonger Lake, watching the viscount's corpse drift across the water's surface.

A faint laugh came from afar; Fengling, who had somehow appeared behind him, had dew‑kissed blue bellflowers in her hair: "The Lord‑Devouring Knight's sword is far faster than the rumors claim."

"A clean, direct kill." Fengling's smile deepened as she tossed shards of tile into the lake; the ripples reflected the rising sun, turning the whole water a rust‑red hue.

And toward the Lake Pavilion, the nobles' cries rose and fell in succession.

Robin brushed the map in his chest and suddenly grasped the true meaning of a "token of allegiance."

It was not to make him a murderer, but to turn him into a blade sharper and quieter than poison on the nobles' chessboard.

Viscount Bu Lai En was assassinated, and in full view of the crowd, instantly sparking panic among the nobles.

(End of Chapter)