Chapter 41: Chapter Forty-One When I Get Tired of Playing, I Might Let You Go…

Chapter 41: Forty-One. Perhaps one day when I tire of this game, I might even grant you freedom...

At the hunting grounds' encampment, the rain descended with such sudden fury that the palace attendants barely had time to gather their belongings. They could only hastily escort the Old Emperor back to his tent. The Crown Prince accompanied the Old Emperor, while the mobility-impaired Fifth Prince was pushed in his wheelchair by guards, trailing behind.

Just as the imperial tent came into view, an unforeseen calamity struck. Countless arrows tore through the downpour, assailing them with an irresistible, overwhelming force.

No one had ever imagined such audacious temerity—an assassination attempt on the Emperor himself.

"Protect His Majesty! Protect His Majesty!"

Someone, the first to react, shrieked hoarsely. The imperial guards, as if roused from a dream, finally raised their shields, forming a protective phalanx around the Emperor and his retinue.

Simultaneously, dozens of black-clad, masked assassins leaped from the surrounding woods, charging into the throng with drawn blades. They struck down anyone in their path with ruthless efficiency, their blows severing heads as if they were mere gourds.

The crowd instantly erupted into pandemonium, terrified screams rising in a cacophony.

A palace attendant, who had been supporting the Old Emperor, suddenly produced a dagger. With a contorted, ferocious expression, he launched a surprise attack from behind, aiming directly for the Old Emperor's heart. The incident unfolded too swiftly for anyone to react. Just as the dagger was poised to plunge into the Old Emperor's flesh—

"Father, be careful!"

The Fifth Prince, who had been following behind, suddenly surged from his wheelchair, lunging at the attendant.

The two grappled on the ground, struggling for control of the dagger. The Fifth Prince, hindered by his disability, was stabbed several times by the assailant.

Imperial guards, finally able to intervene, rushed to assist. Their hesitation, born from fear of accidentally harming the Fifth Prince, cost them precious moments. By the time a spear pierced the assassin's heart, the Fifth Prince was barely clinging to life.

The assassins were few in number, and the attempt lasted less than the time it takes to drink a cup of tea. It concluded with most of the attackers slain, and the few intentionally left alive taking their own lives with poison.

The rain poured down in a deluge, pounding the earth and withered leaves. The blood flowing from the scattered corpses stained the ground a vivid crimson, and the thick, pungent stench of blood was sickening.

The imperial guards began clearing the bodies of their fallen comrades and the assassins. The disoriented officials and palace attendants gradually regained their senses, though the terror of their near-death experience still clung to them.

The Old Emperor, advanced in years, had endured many assassination attempts, yet the sudden fright still left him shaken, exacerbating his heart condition. He gazed at the Fifth Prince, who lay on the ground, drenched in blood and unconscious after saving him, and with a complex expression, commanded, "Summon the imperial physicians!"

On a nearby hillside, the Master of the Thousand Kill Pavilion, observing from the shadows, winced. "Training an assassin costs a fortune in silver and effort. Losing so many at once—we'll have to raise the price."

Duan Lin, standing beside him, cast a cold glance and replied indifferently, "Agreed."

...

The icy rain lashed at their skin, stinging painfully. Their clothes and hair were soaked through, clinging to their bodies, cold and clammy.

Amidst the roaring rain, the chaotic whistling of arrows indicated that the assassins had not abandoned their pursuit.

At the edge of the dense forest lay an endless expanse of sky. Wei Zheng's pupils contracted slightly as he forcefully tightened the reins, bringing his galloping horse to an abrupt halt.

Ahead was a sheer precipice—a chasm thousands of feet deep. Forced to change course, Wei Zheng wheeled his horse around.

Behind them was the bottomless abyss; before them stood a dense mass of assassins, brandishing sharp blades.

"Your Highness, the Virtuous Prince, you have nowhere left to retreat. Rather than plummeting from this cliff and perishing without a trace, it would be more merciful to take your own life swiftly and spare yourself further torment."

The speaker appeared to be the leader of the assassins. Wei Zheng raised an eyebrow and let out a scornful laugh. "You think you ants are worthy of taking this prince's life?"

No sooner had he spoken than the soft sword in his hand seemed to come alive, vibrating and humming as if eager to drink blood.

A sword is merely an inanimate object, but to achieve the state where the sword moves with one's will, its wielder is no ordinary person.

The assassin leader's expression hardened, and he no longer underestimated his opponent. With a raised hand, he signaled his subordinates, and a hundred assassins surged forward.

The situation took a drastic turn. By all appearances, the two had no hope of escape. Wei San held poison needles between his fingers. He could not openly display his martial prowess, but covertly striking with poison was an option.

Wei Zheng seemed to notice his intention. He looked down at him, shook his head with a faint smile, and softly said, "Just hold on to me tightly. I have a plan. Don't cause trouble, understand?"

Wei San stiffened, the light in his eyes dimming.

He withdrew the poison needles, a heavy feeling in his heart.

So, in his master's eyes, his greatest contribution was simply not being a hindrance...

After cautioning the young deathsworn, Wei Zheng paid him no further attention and naturally did not notice Wei San's distress.

He spurred his horse into a wild gallop, intending to forcefully break through the encirclement. But how could the assassins allow him to have his way?

Wei Zheng's horse was also a spirited beast. It kicked away anyone who dared approach, while Wei Zheng himself, from horseback, swiftly beheaded any assassins who slipped past its defenses.

These assassins feared neither death nor pain, their eyes bloodshot with murderous frenzy. As their comrades fell, they trampled over the bodies, swarming forward relentlessly.

The horse's hooves were the most vulnerable targets. When a dozen blades simultaneously struck its legs, even the most ferocious horse would suffer several wounds.

Its tendons severed, the horse let out a piercing, pained whinny. Seeing it tottering, Wei Zheng swiftly dispatched the assassins closing in, then rolled off the horse's back, cradling Wei San.

The heavy rain washed over the land. What was originally transparent rainwater now turned a stark, garish crimson upon hitting the ground. In an unnoticed corner, a protruding rock at the cliff's edge, weakened by the relentless mud and water, began to crack. The weight of the people upon it only accelerated the fissure.

Severed limbs and corpses lay everywhere. Wei Zheng was drenched in blood, though none of it was his own—it was the blood that had splattered onto him from the countless throats he had slit.

More than half of the assassins were dead or wounded, yet they still vastly outnumbered Wei Zheng and Wei San. They tightened their encirclement, forcing the two to retreat step by step.

Blood dripped from his nose and jaw. The usually nonchalant eyes now held an endless, chilling killing intent. His entire body trembled, not from exhaustion, nor from fear of death, but from a frenzied craving for slaughter.

He had never been a refined gentleman. How could someone who lived in hell be a benevolent soul?

Wei San anxiously grasped his hand, unable to help but say, "Master, let this subordinate act. If we kill them all, no one will discover my identity."

He was Wei Zheng's deathsworn. A deathsworn's duty was to shield his master. His life was expendable; nothing was more important than his master's safety.

Wei Zheng was momentarily stunned. He tried to force a smile, but then realized how terrifying he must look in his current state. So he stopped, even retracting the hand he had raised to caress the deathsworn's hair.

He said, "What foolishness are you speaking? I don't need you for this yet. Stay safely behind me."

"Playing the hero for your little lover, even at death's door."

The assassin leader, hiding at the very back and completely unscathed, saw Wei Zheng covered in blood and assumed he was at his last gasp. His caution visibly waned.

His gaze fell upon Wei San's face, and a flicker of admiration crossed his eyes.

Wei San was indeed beautiful—his skin like congealed cream, his thin lips naturally crimson, and his captivating peach-blossom eyes upturned at the corners, as if unintentionally enchanting all who beheld him.

The assassin leader had dallied with many courtesans and male companions, but such an exquisite specimen was a first.

"No wonder the Virtuous Prince is so utterly infatuated. If I could possess such a beauty, dying on his belly would be worth it."

He said to Wei San, "What does it matter that your lover is a noble prince? Soon, he'll be a nameless ghost rotting in the wilderness. You'd be better off following me if you want to live. Perhaps one day when I tire of this game, I might even grant you freedom."

His gaze was lewd, and his words carried not an ounce of respect, as if he truly regarded Wei San as a common whore.

Wei San frowned in disgust. He clenched his back teeth, barely restraining himself from lunging forward to gouge out the assassin leader's eyes and feed them to dogs, then sever his head and end his wretched life.

But he didn't need to act; someone else reacted even more vehemently.

"You dare covet my man?"

Wei Zheng's expression instantly turned terrifyingly dark. He gripped the hilt of his sword, shaking off the droplets of rain and blood that clung to the blade.

"I originally intended to let you dogs live, but it seems you do not value your lives."

The moment his words fell, the deathsworn lurking in the shadows, who had long been barely restraining themselves, emerged one after another. The overwhelmingly one-sided battle instantly shifted in Wei Zheng's favor.

The assassin leader clearly hadn't anticipated such a contingency. He was no fool; how could he not realize that from start to finish, they had been mere puppets in the Virtuous Prince's hands?

"Cut them all down! Feed their corpses to the wolves!"

Wei Zheng's tone was icy cold. He no longer wished to continue this charade with these doomed men.

The leading deathsworn was Wei Er. He had long yearned to act but had held back without his master's direct command. Now, with the order given, his blood surged. With a single command, he led the deathsworn into the fray.

Most of the assassins were desperate desperadoes; how could they compare to the elite, meticulously trained, and well-equipped deathsworn from the prince's residence?

Seeing his plan fail and realizing that escape might be impossible through the deathsworn's encirclement, the assassin leader gritted his teeth and resolved to fight to the death.

His target was crystal clear: it wasn't the Virtuous Prince he aimed to kill, but Wei San, who was being shielded behind him.

Rumor had it that the Virtuous Prince was a hopeless romantic, utterly devoted to this male favorite. If he could get his hands on the favorite's life, why worry about not being able to use him as leverage to escape?

The assassin leader's plan was cunning. He feigned an attack toward Wei Zheng, deftly evading the blades of all the intercepting deathsworn. But just as he closed in, he reversed his grip and seized Wei San by the back of the neck.

Everything had gone too smoothly, but the assassin leader, intoxicated by the thrill of imminent success, failed to notice anything amiss.

He dragged Wei San toward the cliff edge, pressing his blade directly against Wei San's neck. His eyes wide with frenzied menace, he snarled at Wei Zheng, who was attempting to approach, "Stop! Or I'll kill your precious darling!"

"Don't touch him. I will not approach," Wei Zheng had no choice but to halt, his gaze fixed on Wei San, who was subtly shaking his head at him.

The assassin leader, feeling he held a get-out-of-death-free card, grew even more arrogant. He pressed the blade harder against Wei San's pale skin, and crimson blood droplets immediately trickled down the edge of the sword.

Wei Zheng's face instantly darkened to a terrifying degree. He let out a suppressed growl, "I told you not to touch him!"

Wei Zheng's aura was utterly terrifying. Those familiar with his temperament knew this was the harbinger of his explosive rage. Yet, far from being afraid, the assassin leader grew even more audacious.

He pulled Wei San closer to the cliff's edge, threatening, "You and your men, throw down your weapons. Otherwise, I'll jump with your precious darling, leaving your beautiful little lover shattered to pieces."

Wei Zheng clenched the hilt of his sword, the veins on the back of his hand bulging, all betraying the furious storm raging within him.

"Hurry up!"

Seeing no action from him, the assassin leader grew agitated.

Wei Zheng took several deep breaths, then conceded, "Very well, I will throw it down."

He raised his sword-wielding hand and, in full view of the assassin leader, loosened his fingers.

The assassin leader's pupils constricted, ecstatic with triumph, but before he could even curl his lips into a smile, a sharp *thwack* echoed in his ears.

It was the sound of a sharp blade piercing through fabric and sinking deep into flesh.

In disbelief, he looked down, only to see a hand-length dagger protruding from where his heart should be. Blood dripped rhythmically from the tip of the blade that had pierced through his chest.

He opened his mouth, only to find he had lost his voice. All that emerged from his throat was a dying gurgle.

Wei San expressionlessly withdrew the dagger. The splattered blood bloomed into several grotesque crimson flowers on his cheeks, adding an eerie, alluring quality to his already otherworldly beauty.

The assassin leader collapsed with a thud and was kicked over the cliff by Wei San.

With the assassin leader dead, the remaining assassins knew they could not escape death that day. One by one, they bit down on the poison pills in their mouths, ending their own lives.

"Why did you have to do it yourself?"

Wei Zheng stepped forward, his hands cupping Wei San's face without hesitation. The more he looked at those splatters of blood, the more displeased he became.

His eyes held an undeniable disgust, as if his most cherished and protected treasure had been sullied by dirt. He tugged at his sleeve, intending to wipe away the unsightly bloodstains, but forgot that his own clothes were also drenched in blood. Instead of cleaning Wei San's face, he smeared it even more with blood.

The more he failed to clean it, the more stubbornly Wei Zheng persisted. He was adamantly unwilling for anything belonging to others to touch Wei San.

This young deathsworn was his private possession; only he could touch him, only he could leave his mark on him. Nothing and no one else was permitted!

Wei San looked at him with conflicted feelings. Just moments ago, he had almost—almost—succumbed to the look in his master's eyes that seemed to cherish him above all else. Fortunately, he had remained rational, keenly aware of his status and position. Had his resolve been weaker, perhaps...

Wei San forced himself to stop overthinking and obediently tilted his head up, allowing Wei Zheng to wipe the blood from his face.

"Master, how should we deal with these assassins?"

Wei Er had finished counting the bodies of the assassins and turned, about to report to Wei Zheng.

Just then, a sudden disaster occurred.

The cracks, unable to withstand the relentless rain, had spread to the entire base of the rock. Now, finally giving way, they emitted a low groan before shattering completely.

Wei Zheng and Wei San, standing on the rock, had no time to react before they were dragged down along with the falling rocks.

Wei Er reacted with extreme swiftness, lunging forward, but only managed to grasp the edge of Wei Zheng's robe.