Chapter 6: Schemes Are Ultimately Inferior

With the memories of his past life, his horsemanship was remarkably skilled.

Yang Tian savored the exhilaration of galloping on horseback, surging forward relentlessly. The seven men of the Yang River distributed themselves in front, behind, and on both flanks, maintaining a vigilant guard.

Dusk was falling. Night had not yet fully descended, and the assassination would take place under the cover of darkness. The weather today was less than favorable—sunlight flickered in and out, the setting sun barely discernible, heavy clouds pressing low.

It would normally take ten days to travel from the capital of Qin to the Desolate City at a steady pace. They rode hard, continuing until nightfall when Yang Tian finally slowed his horse. If they kept such a breakneck speed, there would be no time to react to an ambush.

“Everyone, if danger arises, preserving your lives takes precedence,” Yang Tian instructed the seven men. It was not self-sacrifice, a readiness to die so his subordinates might live; rather, since their foe was overwhelmingly powerful and his own life was the target, their deaths would be in vain.

The men of Yang River nodded, though their minds were already made up. Having chosen to follow him for life, their only wish was to protect Yang Tian, even if it meant dying before him—there was no doubt in their hearts.

Suddenly—whoosh, whoosh, whoosh! As they passed through a desolate stretch, countless arrows shot from both sides of the road. The assassination had begun! Truly, a night of darkness and high winds, fit for murder and arson.

There was no preamble, no words exchanged—a direct onslaught, as killing should be.

The seven men of Yang River reacted instantly, drawing their blades and weaving a dense barrier of sword energy to deflect the arrows. The horses kept running forward.

For martial cultivators, the higher their strength, the keener their senses; nightfall was little impediment. Surrounded by his protectors, not a single arrow came close to Yang Tian.

Was he afraid? Yes, he was. After all, he had never experienced such a genuine life-and-death melee. Yet he remained composed, forcing himself to overcome his fear. As long as he survived, there would be more ordeals ahead—ones even more brutal and bloody.

The first wave of arrows lasted less than a minute, merely an opening gambit to sap their strength.

“Kill!”

The assassins finally revealed themselves, encircling Yang Tian and his companions—nearly thirty men in black. There was no path forward or back; they had no choice but to halt and fight.

Yang Tian could not gauge the exact strength of the masked assassins, but he sensed the gravity and even tragic resolve in the faces of the Yang River men. The enemy's numbers were daunting, and surely their strength was formidable as well.

He understood: whoever orchestrated this attack must have investigated the strength of those around him and sent killers with absolute confidence in their success.

With that realization, Yang Tian drew a deep breath and unleashed a thunderous shout: “Are you still going to hide? If you don’t act now, I’ll leave you behind, and you’ll have nothing to show for it when you return!”

Both the seven men of Yang River and the assassins were taken aback. What did the young master mean? Did he have backup they were unaware of? Was there someone nearby? But hadn’t their master said there were only these few? Had they fallen into a trap?

Suspicion and confusion abounded. The night was silent; no one else appeared, not the slightest disturbance—awkward, to say the least.

Yang Tian raised an eyebrow. Had he miscalculated?

“Stop hiding! Otherwise, you truly won’t get another chance. I’ll count to three—one... two... three. You can go back and accept your fate now.”

He called out again, his calm and unhurried manner convincing everyone present. In truth, he was at his last resort, but he put on a bold front.

“Kill—”

Internally, Yang Tian laughed. He had gambled and won.

Another group of men in black surged out from the distance behind them.

The faces of the first group of assassins changed beneath their masks. Instantly, a portion split off to confront the newcomers.

“Wait, we’re here to kill him as well! We have the same target—why attack us?”

“Do you take us for fools? Kill them!”

“Damn it, you idiots! If you won’t listen, don’t blame us. Brothers, take them out first, then kill the target!”

The two groups of assassins, unable to distinguish each other, fell into chaotic combat.

The seven men of Yang River, their doubts lifted, joined the fray against the remaining black-clad attackers. Their burden lightened; hope returned. They did not fear death, only failure in protecting their young master.

Yang Tian sat unmoving on horseback, his nerves finally eased. A simple gambit—he hadn’t expected it to work, but it had. It was a great risk, but fortune favored him for the moment.

The first group of assassins must have been sent by the mastermind behind the Champion Marquis’s death. The second, most likely, by Li Sheng.

From the confrontation with Li Sheng at noon, when Li Sheng had refused to let him go, Yang Tian had devised this plan—deliberately provoking Li Sheng, humiliating him, and then leaving a parting remark designed to ensure retaliation. If Li Sheng chose not to send men after him, he would never have another opportunity.

A simple ploy, yet risky; two assassination squads meant twice the danger. But Yang Tian had reasoned that, since the two groups were strangers to each other, he could muddy the waters and spark conflict between them.

Since the extent of the crisis was unpredictable, he might as well take a chance. The worst outcome was death; success meant a miraculous escape. And now, the most ideal scenario had unfolded.

The battle raged on. Yang Tian could not see clearly in the darkness—his scholarly cultivation was only Second Grade, and he lacked the ability to see as in daylight. He could only hear the clash of weapons and the cries of the wounded. The scent of blood thickened in the air, carried by the wind.

The moon hid behind the clouds. The birds and insects nearby had long since fled, leaving no witnesses.

Yang Tian touched the spiritual artifact he had inscribed himself, hidden in his breast, relieved he had been able to save it. Whether it could resolve tonight’s crisis, he did not know; his strength was simply too meager.

The stronger one’s cultivation, the more scholarly energy could be imbued into a spiritual artifact, and the greater its power when unleashed.

As time went on, the slaughter drew to an end.

The seven men of Yang River finished off the black-clad attackers; none had died, though injuries were inevitable. In the distance, just over a dozen assassins remained from both sides.

“Young master, shall we finish them off?” Yang He asked, murderous intent flaring.

“No need. Let’s go,” Yang Tian shook his head. The remaining enemies were no longer a threat; there was no reason to exhaust his men further.

The state of the seven was not good—the battle had been fierce, the enemy formidable. Yang Tian could not predict whether more danger awaited them ahead. Caution was best.

“I’m leaving now. When you’re done, send my regards to your master,” Yang Tian called out as he departed.

The two groups of black-clad men, already locked in senseless battle, became even more enraged by his words, determined to fight to the last man.

Clap, clap, clap—

Yang Tian and his companions had barely spurred their horses forward when a figure appeared ahead, applauding slowly.

“Young master, be careful. He’s very strong—probably Seventh or even Eighth Rank in martial cultivation!” Yang He’s expression changed drastically as he warned.

“Impressive. With just a few words, you set both sides against each other and resolved the crisis with ease. As the Champion Marquis’s son, you’ve been underestimated by everyone until today,” the figure in blue, face masked, walked step by step toward Yang Tian, admiration in his voice.

“Fortunately, my master is prudent and sent me to check. Otherwise, you really would have escaped.”

Yang Tian managed a bitter smile. His relief had come too soon. Yet this man, true to a villain’s character, was so certain of victory that he wasted time with idle talk instead of striking immediately.

Unfortunately, Yang Tian had no strength to turn the tables. The spiritual artifact of the scholar’s path would likely not kill the man in blue. Otherwise, he would dearly have liked to see the look on his face when defeated.