gnovel Chapter 69 Assassin
Chapter 69 Assassin
Chapter 69 Assassin
The attendant led Zhao Heng through the front courtyard, around the main hall, and deeper into the mansion.
After walking for about the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, we arrived at a secluded back room.
The back room was not large and simply furnished. Tea sets were laid out on the table, and a map hung on the wall, marking the mountains, rivers, and cities of the Zhao state.
When Zhao Heng entered, he saw Lord Pingyuan sitting in the main seat, with Lord Pingyang, Zhao Bao, sitting beside him. One was resting with his eyes closed, while the other was stroking his beard, deep in thought.
Below the two men, Zhao Yan was also present. He stood in front of the seat on the left, seemingly having just finished speaking. When he turned around and saw Zhao Heng arrive, his expression became slightly unnatural, clearly not expecting to be summoned at the same time as Zhao Heng.
Zhao Heng had no choice but to put the dancer who resembled Jing Ni out of his mind for the time being and went inside to pay his respects to Lord Pingyuan and Lord Pingyang: "Heng greets Your Majesty."
Lord Pingyuan opened his eyes and looked him over, a smile appearing on his face. "It's been a long time. You've grown quite a bit taller. The last time I saw you was during the ancestral temple ceremony; you were only this tall then."
He gestured with his hand to indicate height, "You're like a little adult now. Sit down."
Lord Pingyang also had a smile on his face, but he didn't speak. He just nodded slightly as a greeting.
Zhao Heng thanked him and sat down in the seat opposite Zhao Yan.
Zhao Yan was indignant, but he knew he couldn't show it, so he forced a smile and took his seat.
Lord Pingyuan nodded, about to speak, when he suddenly coughed. The cough was muffled and rapid, and his whole body trembled.
Lord Pingyang, who was much more famous than himself, quickly patted his younger brother's back, his hand gently but firmly, indicating that he should speak instead. Lord Pingyuan waved his hand, then forced down a cough, picked up his teacup, took a sip, and then spoke.
His voice sounded very old at this moment, and his strength was weaker than it had been in the hall earlier. Zhao Heng did not dare to be careless, so he sat up straight, placed his hands on his knees, and listened attentively.
"I have called you two here today for no other reason than that. Although I have been ill for a long time and rarely go out, I still know a little about what is happening in Handan."
Lord Pingyuan glanced at Zhao Yan and Zhao Heng and said, "I've heard that there's been some discord between you two lately."
Zhao Yan's expression changed slightly, and he was about to speak in his defense when Lord Pingyuan glanced at him. Zhao Yan then hesitated and dared not speak, and could only listen to Lord Pingyuan continue: "I know that you are all of the king's bloodline, of noble status, and each of you has your own difficulties. But do you know that the king has been troubled by this matter for many days?"
Zhao Heng lowered his head and remained silent, and Zhao Yan also lowered his head.
Lord Pingyuan set down his teacup and sighed, "The King summoned me to the palace a few days ago and spoke of your affairs with great concern. Zhao is currently beset by internal and external troubles: the Xiongnu to the north, Yan to the east, and the powerful Qin to the west. The court is in dire need of rebuilding, and this is precisely the time when the royal family needs to unite. Yet you, uncle and nephew, are quarreling at this crucial moment, not thinking of sharing the burdens of the state, but instead fighting amongst yourselves, making yourselves a laughingstock to outsiders. How can you face the ancestors of Zhao?"
His words were not spoken forcefully, and even sounded somewhat broken due to lack of breath, but the weight of his words was so heavy that it made people unable to lift their heads.
At this point, Lord Pingyuan looked at Zhao Yan, his tone becoming more serious: "Prince Yan, you are the king's own son, of noble status. Let me ask you, what happened to the lives of those four boys?"
Zhao Yan's face paled, and he hurriedly rose to speak, but Lord Pingyuan did not wait for his reply, continuing, "Your men have failed in their duties, blaming four lives on Prince Heng and bringing the matter to the King's attention. If Lord Pingyang hadn't suppressed it immediately, this matter would have escalated, and where would the King's face have been? Where would the face of the Zhao royal family have been?"
"Your Majesty, this is true, it is true—" Zhao Yan stammered, a fine layer of cold sweat seeping from his back, unsure of what Lord Pingyuan was trying to do.
"Enough." Lord Pingyuan stared at Zhao Yan and said, "No matter what, if your men cause trouble, whether you instructed them or not, it will ultimately be your fault. This matter has implicated Prince Heng, what about next time? I am not pursuing this today because of the reputation of the Zhao royal family. But I will remember this matter."
Zhao Yan's face turned pale, and he said in a low voice, "I will remember Your Majesty's teachings."
At this moment, Lord Pingyang spoke up, "On the surface, everything that needed to be done has been done, so it's considered closed. However, Prince Yan, the King has ordered you to stay in seclusion for these past few days to reflect on your actions, presumably hoping that you can calmly examine yourself. Conducting oneself in society and disciplining one's disciples may seem like small matters, but they are the easiest to cause trouble."
A thin layer of sweat appeared on Zhao Yan's forehead. He could only nod repeatedly, not daring to say anything more.
Zhao Heng sat silently to the side, not gloating at all. After all, although Zhao Yan was being reprimanded here and dared not utter a sound, it was clear that he was being treated leniently.
Lord Pingyuan's words were a warning, but he didn't really pursue the matter further.
Lord Pingyuan did not continue the topic, but turned to Zhao Heng, speaking in a gentler tone: "Prince Heng, your father is a hostage in Qin, and you, at such a young age, have managed to establish yourself in Handan, which is already quite remarkable. I heard from Lord Pingyang that you argued forcefully in the palace and did not back down even in front of your uncle. I acknowledge your courage."
Zhao Heng bowed slightly: "Your Majesty flatters me."
Lord Pingyuan drank his tea again, paused for a moment, and then said, "However—you must also remember that you are ultimately a prince of Zhao."
Even if your uncle has faults, he is still your elder and a blood relative. Any misunderstandings between you and your uncle can be discussed calmly; don't let things escalate to an unmanageable point. The face of the Zhao royal family is also your face.
Zhao Heng's heart skipped a beat, but his expression remained respectful. "Heng will remember Your Majesty's teachings."
Lord Pingyuan then took over the conversation, his tone much gentler than Lord Pingyang's. "I summoned you here not to reprimand anyone. I simply want to tell you that the Zhao royal family shares the same fate, whether it prospers or suffers. If you uncles and nephews can be of one mind, it will be good for both the country and your families. If you cannot be of one mind, at least don't undermine each other."
"Young Master Yan, you are the uncle, and you should act like one. Those under your command should be disciplined and punished as appropriate. If this happens again, I will have no choice but to follow the clan rules."
"Young Master Heng, if you ever feel wronged in the future, you are welcome to visit my and Lord Pingyang's residence more often."
Both of them bowed simultaneously. "Yes, sir."
After straightening up, Zhao Yan spoke sincerely, even with lingering fear, "I will remember Your Majesty's teachings. All that happened before was due to my lax discipline of my subordinates, which caused Heng'er to suffer. In the future, I will strictly discipline him and never let Heng'er be troubled again."
As he spoke, he looked at Zhao Heng with a kind smile. "Heng'er, if your uncle has offended you in any way before, I hope you won't take it to heart. We are family after all."
Zhao Heng was speechless inside, but a look of gratitude appeared on his face. He said, "Uncle, you flatter me. I am young and ignorant, and I have my faults. Since you say so, how could I dare to hold any more grudges?"
Seeing this, Lord Pingyuan stroked his beard and nodded, a look of satisfaction on his face. "Very good. I will have someone report today's events to His Majesty. His Majesty will surely be pleased to know that you, uncle and nephew, have reconciled."
Lord Pingyang nodded, but only glanced at Zhao Yan and said nothing more.
Lord Pingyuan waved his hand. "Alright, the banquet isn't over yet, you should all go back and enjoy yourselves."
Zhao Yan and Zhao Heng rose, bowed, and left the inner hall one after the other.
As they walked out of the inner hall, Zhao Yan led the way, followed by Zhao Heng. After taking a few steps, Zhao Yan suddenly stopped, turned back to look at Zhao Heng, and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Heng'er, what your uncle said inside just now was all from the bottom of his heart."
Zhao Heng smiled as well. "Nephew naturally trusts Uncle."
Zhao Yan patted his shoulder, then turned and strode away, his expression suddenly turning cold.
Zhao remained calm and went straight back to the front yard.
When he returned to the vicinity of the main hall, the banquet was already coming to an end.
The meal was long over, and the tripods and cauldrons on the tables had been removed, replaced by wine cups and fruit platters. The atmosphere in the hall was much more relaxed than before, and a small open space in the center was where several guests were playing a game of pitch-pot.
A man held an arrow, aimed at the bronze pot, flicked his wrist, and the arrow drew an arc in the air before falling into the pot with a tinkling sound, prompting cheers from the surrounding crowd.
Next to the pitch-pot game, there was another table where several guests were playing a game. The dice rolled in the wooden tray, making a crisp clinking sound. Some people cheered, while others shook their heads and sighed; the atmosphere was quite lively.
Lord Xinling was no longer at the banquet, and many of the guests in the hall had already left. Those who remained were mostly people who had drunk to their hearts' content and were reluctant to leave.
Some people were dozing off on the table, some were laughing and talking loudly with their arms around each other's shoulders, and some were staggering to their feet to say goodbye to their host.
Zhao Heng was just about to look for Yan Dan when he turned around and saw Yan Dan coming in through the side door. He looked a little drunk, but his steps were still steady. When he saw Zhao Heng, he took the initiative to walk over.
"Brother Heng, I couldn't find you earlier. I thought you had left first."
Zhao Heng said, "I just went out for some fresh air. Brother Dan, are you leaving?"
Yan Dan nodded and rubbed his temples. "I drank a few too many cups today and I'm a bit tipsy. I also played a few rounds of pitch-pot with some gentlemen, and I really can't hold on any longer. I was just about to go back and rest."
He spoke with a hint of drunkenness, his tongue occasionally slurring, but he was still fairly lucid. Zhao Heng then said, "Since Brother Dan is not feeling well, you should go back and rest early. I'll see you out."
Yan Dan waved his hand, the gesture so large it almost bumped into a servant walking by. "No need, no need. I'm not drunk, why should I let you see me off? I can walk myself." He said, deliberately puffing out his chest to try and prove he was sober, but his steps were already slightly unsteady.
Zhao Heng didn't insist, simply saying, "Then take care, Brother Dan. Let's meet again another day."
Yan Dan patted his arm and turned to walk towards the hall door. His figure weaved through the crowd, several times being stopped by people to offer him a toast, which he politely declined with a smile. Finally, he disappeared into the sunlight outside the hall door.
Zhao watched Yan Dan leave, then stood there for a moment.
Yan Dan wasn't entirely sure whether he would believe the news of Li Mu's departure for the border. Zi Nu had made a valid point earlier: this man's survival as a hostage in Handan for so many years was not solely due to luck. How much of Yan Dan's belief in his plan was genuine, and whether he would act as he anticipated, remained uncertain.
However, things have come to this point, and all that needs to be done has been done; all that's left to do is wait and see.
He gathered his thoughts and turned to leave.
Just then, a scream suddenly came from the direction of the hall door.
The sound came extremely suddenly, without any warning. One moment the hall was filled with the noise of pitch-pot games, the clinking of dice, and the musicians' farewell tune; the next moment, all these sounds were startled by a sharp scream.
Zhao Heng turned around abruptly.
At the entrance of the hall, a guest who had been chatting and laughing with his companions was now clutching his neck, blood gushing from between his fingers and splattering onto the nearby pillars. His body swayed, then he collapsed forward.
His companion, still drunk and not fully conscious, stood there dumbfounded, not reacting at all, holding a half-empty glass of wine in his hand.
Behind him, a man dressed as a servant immediately stepped forward, plunged a blood-stained dagger into the man's abdomen, twisted it, and pulled it out.
Before the man could even scream, he clutched his stomach and collapsed to the ground, dark red blood quickly soaking his clothes and spreading across the ground.
The music in the hall stopped abruptly.
A musician instinctively stood up, his instrument slipping from his lap and crashing to the ground, the strings emitting a chaotic buzzing sound. Immediately afterwards, screams erupted.
The servant stopped at the entrance of the hall. He lowered his head, seemingly waiting for something. Then, from another direction in the hall, through a side door, several more people appeared carrying trays.
These men were dressed similarly as servants, but their clothes looked awkward on them; the sleeves were too short, and their belts were tied crookedly. They were now taking short knives from under their trays, the blades gleaming coldly in the candlelight, and thrusting them straight in.
The crowd playing pitch-pot scattered in a panic. Tables were overturned, and cups, plates, and bowls shattered on the ground. Some people tripped over the corpses on the ground, and before they could get up, they were stabbed in the back by assassins surging from behind.
"Where is Lord Xinling!" someone shouted sharply, their voice echoing in the hall, drowning out all the noise.
No one answered. Lord Xinling was no longer in the hall.
But the assassins seemed unconcerned with the answer. They began indiscriminately hacking and slashing everyone in the hall. Guests, servants, musicians—regardless of status, anyone who stood in their way was struck down.
Fortunately, at that moment, a burly man suddenly rushed in from outside, his long sword drawn, the blade flashing like a bolt of lightning, and with one strike he instantly killed two assassins.
The assassin didn't even have time to react before he fell to the ground, the wound on his neck as clean as a thread. At the same time, several guards rushed in from the side door and engaged the assassins in combat.
The sounds of clashing weapons, screams, and shouts rose and fell.
Amidst the chaos, sounds of fighting seemed to rise from outside, an even more intense clashing of weapons, mixed with roars and cries of pain. Suddenly, a person stumbled into the courtyard through the gate.
It was a servant of Lord Pingyuan's household, his face covered in blood, one hand clutching his neck, blood gushing from between his fingers, staining his clothes crimson. He staggered a couple of steps, his legs gave way, and he collapsed to the ground, struggling to lift his head, hoarsely calling out to the burly man from before.
"There are assassins—the Crown Prince of Yan and his entourage have been kidnapped—"
Before he could finish speaking, his hand slipped off his neck, and he collapsed to the ground, motionless.
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