An Attack in the Palace Alley

The vast martial arena had been bustling with crowds since morning, but now, peace had returned. When not a single figure moved within sight, Chen Liu finally turned and, after taking a few steps, addressed the old eunuch, “Zhao Weizhong, go and bring them here.”

The old eunuch understood immediately. He had noticed whom the emperor watched so intently just moments ago and had secretly glanced up himself, so he knew exactly who to summon.

When they arrived, the Imperial Guards escorted Song Linjie and Zhang Ling alone through a secluded passage, unlike the others, and certainly not via the main hall like court officials. Thus, they encountered no one else along the way.

The two guards kept glancing at Zhang Ling, uneasy. Though they were headed to a martial contest, it was now over—why was he still carrying a sword?

One guard reminded gently, “Young man, you can put the sword away now.”

Zhang Ling grinned and waved his hand. “Can't help it—there's blood on the blade. Do you have any paper? It’s hard to clean if it gets inside the scabbard.”

The two guards could only shrug. As soldiers, they didn’t carry paper around; their comrades would laugh them to shame. But letting him walk around with a bloody sword wasn’t good either. If he appeared outside the palace gates like this, he’d incite panic among the people.

Just as they were puzzling over the situation, a figure suddenly dropped from the high wall. The newcomer gripped the guards’ helmets tightly with both hands, twisting them with brutal force. Before the guards could react, they were killed on the spot.

Zhang Ling and Song Linjie, walking behind, saw the scene and hastily retreated. The assassin, head lowered from momentum, lifted his gaze and charged. Only then did they recognize him: Shen Yunfeng, who had fled in terror after a single remark earlier.

Zhang Ling had not yet sheathed his sword and stepped forward to meet the attack. Though he knew the difference in skill, he did not immediately strike, but he never expected Shen Yunfeng to seize the short sword bare-handed and hurl it against the palace wall. Then, with a solid palm strike to Zhang Ling’s chest, blood spurted from Zhang Ling’s mouth as he flew several meters backward.

Shen Yunfeng’s eyes were dark and venomous as he glared at the fallen man. If not for him, those he had painstakingly nurtured would not have died here. If not for him, he could have continued advancing on his martial path. This enmity must be avenged, even if it meant fleeing afterward.

Shen Yunfeng ignored Song Linjie, charging straight at Zhang Ling. “You ruined my martial path. Today, you’ll pay with your life.”

Song Linjie stepped in, blade drawn, blocking Zhang Ling. The Heaven-Forging Blade glowed faintly red, and Shen Yunfeng sensed genuine threat, not daring to snatch the weapon as he had the sword. He swiftly retreated.

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Song Linjie, who had forced back a grandmaster with a single blade, suddenly grew excited, forgetting the assassin’s murderous intent and actually pursuing him.

Heaven-Forging Blade sliced through the air. Song Linjie’s internal energy surged to its peak. Even if Shen Yunfeng truly belonged to the profound realm, he could not ignore such a challenge.

Shen Yunfeng had underestimated the young hero. He thought Song Linjie, barely of age and newly advanced to the second rank, would be easy to crush. Yet reality proved otherwise.

Agitated and pressed for time within the palace, Shen Yunfeng had to act quickly. He formed his five claws into hooks, leaped up the palace wall, and sought to step on the Heaven-Forging Blade to vault past Song Linjie and kill Zhang Ling first. Otherwise, his unstable heart would not only hinder his martial progress but might even lead to regression.

But Song Linjie would not let him succeed. Encountering such a worthy opponent, he was determined to fight to his heart’s content. He twisted the blade, the edge pointing downward, and swung at Shen Yunfeng as he descended.

Shen Yunfeng was forced to halt mid-fall, pausing momentarily in midair and then retreating again.

Grinding his teeth, Shen Yunfeng no longer carried the ethereal demeanor of before. He growled, “Boy, I only want to kill him today. If you keep interfering, I’ll deal with you as well.”

Song Linjie looked simple and honest, but was sharply perceptive inside. He pointed at the two fallen guards and mocked, “Do you believe your own words? Once he’s dead, you’ll surely kill me next. If you dare commit murder here, you won’t leave any witnesses.”

Unable to persuade him, Shen Yunfeng resolved to deal with both. If even one escaped, it would spell endless trouble.

His hooked claws lashed at Song Linjie, who parried with his blade. The clash rang out like metal striking metal. Shen Yunfeng increased the force, but Song Linjie, facing the grandmaster’s powerful internal energy, stood his ground. With a slap of his other hand against the blade, both men sprang apart.

Shen Yunfeng retreated eight steps. Song Linjie counted the distance, determined not to fall behind, and stomped the ground fiercely, splintering the stone, unwilling to give an inch.

The two tangled fiercely for some time. Zhang Ling, stunned, watched as Song Linjie began to falter and finally snapped back to his senses.

True to the creed “better my friend than myself,” Zhang Ling prepared to slip away.

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Just as Zhang Ling took a step to leave, he sensed something amiss behind him. Turning, he saw a woman in red descend gracefully before Song Linjie. The red ribbon wound around her hand swung out, seemingly delicate, yet easily blocked Shen Yunfeng’s claw.

Before Shen Yunfeng could regain his footing, the woman danced her ribbon again and again, nearly weaving a pattern. Her movements were like a celestial dance, graceful as a startled swan, yet laced with deadly intent.

Every ribbon strike landed on Shen Yunfeng like a boulder, smothering his chest until blood spurted forth. The most lethal ribbon suddenly withdrew.

Zhang Ling guessed she didn’t want this man’s filthy blood on her, though the ribbon was already red.

Taking advantage, Shen Yunfeng retreated repeatedly, swallowing blood, his voice hoarse. “Miss, I bear you no grudge—why attack me?”

The woman checked her ribbon for blood, satisfied, and replied, “Nothing personal. Someone asked me to keep an eye on him. Bad luck for you—if you insist on killing him, I can’t just stand by. It wouldn’t be easy to explain later.”

Though her back was turned, Zhang Ling and Song Linjie could tell from her clothes and voice that she was Mingyue, the lady from the Bright Moon Pavilion.

Mingyue, apparently concerned about unlucky stains on her ribbon, drew a crescent dagger from her waist and slashed at Shen Yunfeng’s throat.

He barely managed to dodge the fatal blow, but a shallow wound appeared on his chest.

To ensure she wouldn’t miss again, Mingyue kicked at Shen Yunfeng’s leg, sending him sprawling. His internal energy surged wildly, but he could not rise.

Just as Mingyue was about to finish him, a powerful aura suddenly appeared behind her, so she paused and turned to look.

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