Chapter 91: Peril on the Journey

Wang Changgen stood up, casting a sidelong cold smile.
“This sword is named Azure Luan, bestowed by His Majesty himself. The one who carries it is none other than Lu Jue.”
Zhao Xiyan frowned, waiting for Wang Changgen to continue.
Wang Changgen paced slowly, deep in thought for a long while before speaking.
“That girl and Lu Jue are heading east. Why is Chen Pingwu involved as well?”
By nature, Wang Changgen was suspicious. He could understand why Zhao Xiyan would go to his own fief, but Chen Pingwu’s involvement was puzzling—what was he aiming for?
“We absolutely cannot let them reach their destination so easily. Arrange for some men to pose as Eastern Barbarians and ambush them.”
Upon hearing this, Zhao Xiyan felt uneasy, hesitating as he tried to advise him.
“Your Highness, the heir of Longwu King is among them as well. If by chance…”
After all, just days before, Wang Changgen had treated Chen Pingwu with great favor, and Zhao Xiyan feared that such an action might harm him.
Wang Changgen snorted coldly, shooting Zhao Xiyan a glare, his voice icy.
“Hmph! I gave you an order—where does all this hesitation come from?”
Seeing Wang Changgen’s anger, Zhao Xiyan hurriedly bowed and accepted the command.
“One more thing! Lu Jue is formidable—send only the elite this time, or it will be for nothing.”
With this final instruction, Zhao Xiyan melted into the shadows.

…

After two days’ journey, they arrived at the fief of the King of Pingyi.
Among the four travelers, Yang Guang’s face was expressionless, while Lu Jue regarded Chen Pingwu with clear displeasure.
Feng Yewu remained calm and detached, but Chen Pingwu alone wore a broad, cheerful smile.
After all, it was a rare chance to travel with Feng Yewu; to Chen Pingwu, it was like drinking sweet nectar.
“Once we pass through this forest, we’ll reach Yanwu County,” Chen Pingwu said, gazing at the dense green woods ahead, his tone tinged with regret.
Over the past two days, Feng Yewu had not hidden anything about the Li Ru case.
On the contrary, she explained everything to Chen Pingwu in detail.
However, as Feng Yewu spoke, she kept a close watch on Yang Guang’s expression. Whether Yang Guang was simply a superb actor or truly stone-faced, she could not tell. Even when she described Li Ru’s fatal knife wound, Yang Guang’s face remained utterly unmoved.
Lu Jue had endured Chen Pingwu for two days; not only did he find his words irritating, but even his breathing grated on his nerves.
Soon the four entered the forest. Just before they did, Yang Guang glanced up at the thick canopy, a flicker in his eyes, but he said nothing.

By midday, they were deep within the forest, which was so vast that it would take most of the day to cross.
The four ate a simple meal of dry rations and sat in the cool to rest.
Suddenly, Lu Jue grew vigilant, his ears pricking up. He stepped in front of Feng Yewu with his sword drawn, his eyes swiftly scanning their surroundings, and spoke in a low voice.
“There are quite a few friends lurking nearby—why not show yourselves?”
Seeing Lu Jue’s stance, both Chen Pingwu and Feng Yewu tensed, their eyes darting about, while Yang Guang leaned impassively against a tree, eyes closed in repose.
As soon as Lu Jue finished, leaves suddenly fluttered down all around, and laughter echoed through the empty forest.
“Hahahaha! Fine skills, young hero! We’re only here for money—leave your weapons and gold, and you’ll walk away unharmed.”
Lu Jue sneered, full of disdain.
“You want my weapon? Then come and take it yourself!”
With that, Lu Jue leapt up, sword drawn. Judging from the voice, he had already pinpointed their positions, and struck out with a thrust.
A cacophony of clashing blades rang out.
As the fallen leaves settled, more than ten figures emerged, swiftly surrounding the group.
Lu Jue exchanged blows in the air with one of them; they were evenly matched. Landing, Lu Jue looked at their attire and laughed mockingly:
“You must think me a fool. Bandits? What kind of bandits wear night garb and cover their faces?”
Hearing Lu Jue’s ridicule, the two assassins in the lead exchanged glances; a murderous gleam flashed in their eyes as they muttered in the Eastern Barbarians’ tongue.
“Eastern Barbarians?”
Chen Pingwu instantly recognized their language.
Realizing their cover was blown, the lead assassin gave a sharp order, and the dozen or so men launched themselves at the four.
Feng Yewu, now well-trained under Lu Jue’s guidance, was no longer an amateur.
She drew her sword, the cold light glinting in her eyes. Her swordplay was elegant and nimble; even against three assassins, she held her own.
Sparks flew as blades collided, movements smooth and precise, without wasted motion.
Lu Jue needed no comment—he fought two leaders at once, his aura fierce and pressing, gaining the upper hand.
Chen Pingwu, by contrast, quickly lost ground. Though he appeared diligent in practice, his weakness was now exposed. If not for Yang Guang’s timely intervention, he might already have perished.
Yang Guang, still expressionless, wielded his sheathed blade against seven or eight foes, all while shielding Chen Pingwu.
Lu Jue, observing from the corner of his eye, saw that though none of them were yet in real danger, they were outnumbered. Watching Yang Guang handle the attackers with ease, he grew impatient and shouted,
“If you don’t act now, your young master’s life won’t last much longer!”
At Lu Jue’s words, Yang Guang quickly sized up the situation.

He drew his blade. At once, a murderous aura swept through the clearing; Feng Yewu felt a chill run down her back and nearly lost focus, barely dodging a fatal strike.
“Kill!”
Yang Guang spoke a single word. His blade flashed like lightning across a clear sky, so swift it dazzled the others.
With a series of dull thuds, the battle ended. The dozen assassins stiffened and fell where they stood.
Feng Yewu and Chen Pingwu were both momentarily stunned; only Lu Jue had seen Yang Guang’s technique clearly.
Fast, precise, ruthless.
Each assassin had fallen to a single, fatal stroke. Witnessing such skill, sweat beaded in Lu Jue’s palm.
“Superb swordsmanship!”
Lu Jue couldn’t help but praise him.
Feng Yewu surveyed the scene—no survivors. A trace of displeasure crossed her heart.
If Lu Jue hadn’t called out, Yang Guang might have delayed his intervention indefinitely; now, with one strike, not a soul was left for questioning.
Chen Pingwu, however, once he caught his breath, looked on with calm detachment, showing not the slightest surprise.
Such cold-blooded decisiveness left a mark in Feng Yewu’s mind.
Yang Guang, hearing Lu Jue’s admiration, remained impassive. Sheathing his blade, he replied flatly,
“I wonder how it compares to your sword.”
Only Yang Guang had noticed that Lu Jue had not fought with his full strength—that his words had been meant to draw Yang Guang out, a deliberate test.
Lu Jue caught the provocation, his brow furrowing as he retorted,
“Hmph. My sword may be swift, but it is not so bloodthirsty, nor so devoid of humanity.”
Yang Guang turned to meet Lu Jue’s contemptuous glare, unflinching.
Tension thickened between the two.
Chen Pingwu, seeing this, hurried to break the standoff with a laugh.
“All right, all right! We’re on the same side—you’re both quick, both quick!”