Chapter 246: Capture the Assassin

Jiang Mingyu spent the entire night awake, solely to capture the assassin. He knew this was Fei Hou's plot—to assassinate him and block his southern campaign to quell the rebellion. He was not afraid of death, but he could not let Fei Hou succeed; he could not allow his soldiers and civilians to die in vain.

He sat in the central tent of the camp, a sand table before him, adorned with colored flags representing different sectors of the city and troop deployments. His gaze burned as he scrutinized every detail, searching for the assassin's possible hiding place.

Several trusted generals stood beside him, periodically reporting on the city's situation. He could tell they were weary and anxious. After all, this was a war without smoke or visible enemies—only ever-present danger.

He too felt restless, but he could not show it. He was the pillar of the army; he must remain steadfast in commanding this battle. He believed his soldiers were loyal and brave men—and as long as he stood with them, nothing could stop them.

He lightly tapped a flag on the sand table and said, "This is the West Gate, isn't it?"

One general quickly replied, "Yes, my lord. This is the West Gate."

Jiang Mingyu nodded and asked, "What's special about the area near the West Gate?"

The general thought for a moment and said, "Outside the West Gate flows a small river, lined with a few thatched huts and willow trees. The water is clear enough to see the bottom, and fishermen often fish there."

Jiang Mingyu frowned and asked, "Have you seen any suspicious people there?"

The general shook his head. "No signs. We've already sent men to check."

Jiang Mingyu tapped another flag. "What about here? This is the North Gate, right?"

Another general immediately answered, "Yes, my lord. This is the North Gate."

Jiang Mingyu continued, "What's special about the area near the North Gate?"

The general said, "Outside the North Gate lies barren land, dotted with several graves and dead trees. Wild beasts often roam there; few humans ever venture near."

A flash of cold light passed through Jiang Mingyu's eyes. "Have you seen any suspicious people there?"

The general replied, "None found. We've also sent men to investigate."

Jiang Mingyu fell silent for a moment, then said, "You've done well. But I believe the assassin is hiding in one of these two places."

The generals were startled and asked in unison, "My lord, how do you know?"

Jiang Mingyu said, "It's instinct. The assassin dared strike at Dingxuan Pavilion—he must be bold and cunning. He won't hide in the city's bustling areas; too easy to be spotted. He won't hide far outside the city; too easy to be surrounded. He'll hide near the gates—ready to flee or strike at any moment."

The generals nodded in admiration. "My lord is wise."

Jiang Mingyu said, "I believe the assassin is skilled at disguise—he may pose as a fisherman or beggar, blending among ordinary people. We must search every individual meticulously; leave no detail unchecked."

The generals responded in unison, "Yes, my lord."

Jiang Mingyu said, "I will personally inspect the West Gate and North Gate. Each of you lead a select force to accompany me. We split up—do not alert the assassin. If you spot him, notify me immediately."

The generals replied, "As you command, my lord."

Jiang Mingyu rose, drew a long sword, and strapped it to his waist. He told the generals, "Let's go."

The generals followed him out of the tent, each leading a select force toward the city gates.

Jiang Mingyu headed first for the West Gate. He carefully observed his surroundings along the way, finding nothing unusual. At the riverbank outside the West Gate, he saw several fishermen casting nets. He questioned them briefly and confirmed they were local civilians with no suspicious traits.

He examined the thatched huts and willow trees nearby—nothing out of place. He felt a pang of disappointment but did not give up. He told the general beside him, "Continue searching here. I'm going to the North Gate."

The general replied, "Yes, my lord."

Jiang Mingyu turned toward the North Gate. After walking a while, he saw the barren land beyond. Dust swirled in the wind; the graves and dead trees loomed dark and menacing. A chill rose from Jiang Mingyu's core.

He entered the wasteland and saw several beggars pleading beside the graves. He questioned them briefly and learned they were wandering outsiders with no suspicious ties.

He examined the graves and dead trees—nothing unusual. His disappointment deepened, yet he still refused to surrender. He told the general beside him, "Continue searching here. I'll return to camp and await word."

The general replied, "Yes, my lord."

Jiang Mingyu turned toward camp. After walking a short distance, he heard a cry.

"My lord!"

Jiang Mingyu turned—and saw a figure leap from behind a grave, dagger in hand, lunging at him.

It was the assassin!

Jiang Mingyu's heart jolted, but his reflexes were swift—he drew his sword instantly and met the attack.

Seeing Jiang Mingyu had spotted him, the assassin showed no alarm. Instead, he sneered and accelerated.

They closed the distance rapidly on the wasteland, blades and dagger crossing in midair with sharp metallic clangs.

Both were masters among masters—each strike lethal, each movement precise. Their motions were as swift as wind, as ruthless as lightning.

They fought fiercely on the wasteland, leaving no room for others to intervene. The beggars and generals nearby stood frozen, watching from afar.

Though Jiang Mingyu was highly skilled, he was a scholar by origin, unaccustomed to such bloody combat. He felt his strength ebbing, while the assassin remained vigorous, showing no fatigue.

Jiang Mingyu inwardly cursed—he could not afford to delay. He resolved to gamble everything on one final strike.

He suddenly retracted his sword, stepped back, then surged forward, thrusting the blade straight at the assassin's throat.

The move was unexpected—the assassin had no time to react. He instinctively raised his dagger to block—but it was too late.

Jiang Mingyu's blade pierced the assassin's throat; blood gushed forth.

The assassin's eyes widened with terror and defiance. He tried to speak, but only a hoarse gasp escaped.

He slowly collapsed to the ground, his body twitching a few times—then lay still.

Jiang Mingyu released his sword hilt and exhaled deeply. His body was drenched in sweat and blood; his heart pounded as if it might burst.

He barely kept his footing and stared at the assassin's corpse. He needed to know who this assassin was—and why he had been sent to kill him.

He walked over and lifted the assassin's mask. When he saw the face beneath, he drew in a sharp breath.

The assassin was a woman.

She was strikingly beautiful—pale skin, delicate features. Her eyes remained slightly open, still holding a glimmer of life. A faint smile lingered on her lips—as if she welcomed death.

Jiang Mingyu gazed at her face and felt a pang of sorrow. He could not understand how such a beautiful woman had become an assassin. Why had she tried to kill him? Who had sent her?

Jiang Mingyu sought answers—but none remained. The woman was dead. She took all secrets with her.

Jiang Mingyu sighed and gently closed her eyes. He said to her, "You were a worthy opponent—and a pitiable soul. Your death I will not forget. Your vengeance, I will carry out."

He rose and turned to the generals behind him. "See that her body is buried with honor. Let no dishonor touch her."

The generals stared at Jiang Mingyu in astonishment, bewildered by his mercy toward an assassin. But none dared question him—only murmured, "Yes, my lord."

Jiang Mingyu said nothing more. He turned and walked back toward camp. His heart felt heavy—but also lighter. He had ended the assassin's threat—and bought himself a chance to live.

He knew this was but a small victory. Greater challenges awaited him. He must hurry south to quell the rebellion—if he was to truly bring peace to the realm.