The orange light glowed gently in the surroundings, filtering through the cave entrance as dawn slowly broke over the forest. It cast long shadows across the four assassins resting like moonlight rays painting the stone, the sonata of the night still howling through crickets that hadn't yet surrendered to the coming day.
The foreseeable future, the prediction, the preparation—even if it had been a failed attempt by conventional measures, even if they would be mocked and laughed at by those who believed assassination required elegance and precision—the four assassins had already succeeded in their given mission.
Lu Shin was dying. The wine had been poisoned. Dozens of his supporters were dead. His elaborate trap had become his downfall.
Success, purchased with methods that would horrify professional killers and pragmatists alike.
But success nonetheless.
"How is he?" Hu asked, his voice filled with concern that broke through his usual gruff exterior. His eyes darted between Bai, who lay motionless on the cold stone ground, and Zhung, who sat against the opposite wall in meditation posture, his dark eyes half-closed, his expression revealing nothing.
The silence stretched for several heartbeats before Zhung responded.
"Still breathing," his cold voice said—not loud, not quite, just flat and detached, delivering information without emotion or judgment. "His pulse is steady. The foreign essence is being processed by his Aperture. The wound hasn't reopened during the night. No signs of renewed seizure or organ failure."
He paused, then added with characteristic honesty: "Whether he wakes today, tomorrow, or ever depends on factors beyond my ability to predict or control. I've done what I could. The rest is up to his body's resilience and whatever fortune the heavens choose to grant him."
Hu nodded slowly, accepting this assessment. He moved to check Bai's condition himself—pressing fingers to the pulse point on the pale man's neck, leaning close to confirm breathing, examining the bandages the driver had fashioned from torn cloth during the night.
The driver himself sat near the cave entrance, his wooden mask still firmly in place, watching the forest beyond with vigilant attention. He'd taken first watch while the others rested, and now maintained his position with the discipline of someone who understood that survival required constant vigilance.
Zhung remained motionless except for the slow, controlled breathing of meditation. The arrow was still in his shoulder—they'd agreed during the night that removing it without proper tools and medical supplies would cause more damage than leaving it embedded. His left arm hung useless, but his right hand rested on his knee in a relaxed position that suggested he'd adapted to the injury with disturbing ease.
*We survived the night,* Zhung's thoughts noted with cold satisfaction. *The rain has stopped. The false scent trail has been scattered across miles of forest. Wei Shao's tracking dogs will find nothing useful. We have perhaps six to twelve hours before organized pursuit catches up to our actual position.*
*Enough time to move. To put more distance between us and Xia Lu Town. To find better shelter and potentially medical supplies for Bai's wound and my shoulder.*
*The mission is complete. Now comes the second challenge—surviving long enough to report success and collect payment.*
The morning light continued to strengthen, orange giving way to pale gold as the sun climbed higher beyond the forest canopy.
And far away, in a town still reeling from the previous night's carnage, another scene was unfolding.
---
**The Lu Manor**
The cold breeze ran deep through the air and sky, carrying with it the scent of death and rain-washed stone. The Lu manor, which had blazed with celebration just hours ago, now stood silent except for the urgent voices of guards and servants responding to catastrophe.
In Lu Shin's private chambers on the third floor, the room had been transformed into emergency medical facility. Physicians worked frantically around the bed where the young viscount lay motionless, his pale skin—normally healthy despite his scholarly lifestyle—now carrying the gray pallor of someone teetering between life and death.
Wei Shao stood to the side, his face a mask of barely controlled fury and desperate concern. His chest still ached from Zhung's devastating punch, his ribs probably cracked, but he ignored the pain with iron discipline. His own suffering was irrelevant compared to his lord's condition.
Master Yao, the town's most respected physician, straightened from examining Lu Shin's prone form. The old man's expression was grave, his hands still trembling slightly from the acupoint manipulations he'd been performing for the past hour—techniques meant to slow poison, to stabilize failing organs, to buy time that might already be spent.
"Well?" Wei Shao demanded, his voice sharp with an edge that made several servants flinch. "What is his condition? Will he wake? Can you save him?"
Master Yao met Wei Shao's gaze with the weary patience of someone who'd delivered bad news to desperate families countless times before.
"The poison is unlike anything I've encountered in forty years of practice," the physician said quietly. "It attacks multiple organ systems simultaneously—the lungs, the liver, the kidneys. By the time I arrived, the damage was already extensive."
He gestured to Lu Shin's still form.
"Your acupoint work saved his life, Wei Shao. Without those emergency measures, he would have died within minutes like the others. You gave us time to administer antidotes and perform deeper treatments. That was... remarkable skill under pressure."
"But?" Wei Shao pressed, hearing the unspoken qualifier in the physician's tone.
Master Yao sighed heavily. "But the poison had already spread too thoroughly before treatment began. We've stabilized the immediate crisis—his organs are no longer actively failing, his breathing is being maintained through cultivation techniques and herbal preparations. But the damage..."
He trailed off, struggling for words that would convey medical reality without crushing hope entirely.
"What do you mean not waking up?" Wei Shao asked, his voice filled with mounting dread and fury at the universe's injustice. "You said you stabilized him. You said the immediate crisis was resolved. So why won't he wake?"
"Because his body has entered a protective state," Master Yao explained gently. "What common people call a coma. His consciousness has retreated deep within while his body focuses all available energy on healing the poisoned organs. It's a natural defense mechanism when injury is too severe for the mind to process while remaining awake."
The old physician moved to the window, looking out at the courtyard where bodies had been removed hours ago but bloodstains still marked the expensive stone.
"He may wake tomorrow. He may wake next week. He may wake next year." Master Yao's voice carried the heavy weight of medical uncertainty. "Or he may never wake at all. There is no way to predict with certainty. We can only continue treatment, maintain his body's functions, and hope that his inner strength is sufficient to overcome the damage."
Silence filled the chamber, broken only by Lu Shin's shallow breathing—artificially maintained through techniques and medicines, the sound of a life suspended between existence and extinction.
Wei Shao's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles going white with the force of his grip. His face remained controlled, professional, but his eyes blazed with emotions he normally never showed—fury at his failure, grief at his lord's condition, and beneath both, a cold determination that promised retribution.
"How many survived?" he asked finally, his voice dropping to something quiet and dangerous.
A guard who'd been standing near the door straightened nervously. "Final count is being compiled, sir. But preliminary numbers suggest... approximately sixty-three dead from the poison. Guards, actors, servants—anyone who drank Master Chen's wine."
"And the wine maker himself?"
"Found dead in his shop this morning, sir. Throat cut, appears to have been murdered approximately twelve hours before the banquet. The young assassin—the one with dark eyes—he admitted to killing Master Chen and forcing him to poison the wine before death."
Wei Shao nodded slowly, his mind working through the implications with cold analytical precision despite his emotional turmoil.
"So the entire assassination was planned with multiple contingencies," he said, more to himself than to the guard. "The white-haired one's technique was the primary approach—quiet, clean, appearing natural. When that failed, the backup was already in place—wine poisoned hours before the banquet even began, timed to activate during what should have been their execution."
He turned to face the assembled guards and servants, his expression hard as iron.
"That level of planning. That ruthlessness. That willingness to murder innocent craftsmen and sacrifice dozens of lives as collateral damage." His voice carried across the room with commanding authority. "These are not ordinary assassins. These are professionals operating with significant resources and absolutely no moral constraints."
He moved to the center of the room, his presence dominating the space despite his injuries.
"Which means they were sent by someone powerful enough to afford such operatives. Someone who sees Lord Lu Shin as enough of a threat to justify extreme measures. Someone who benefits from his... incapacitation."
"The Thousand River Merchants Association," a senior guard suggested hesitantly. "The forged invitations bore Li Huang's seal. The timing coincides with Lord Lu Shin's expansion into markets Li Huang controls. All evidence points to—"
"Evidence that was deliberately planted," Wei Shao interrupted sharply. "Think. Why would Li Huang be stupid enough to send assassins carrying his own identification? Why would he risk such an obvious connection?"
He began pacing, his tactical mind working through possibilities.
"Either Li Huang is an idiot—which his decades of successful operation suggest he is not—or someone wants us to *think* Li Huang sent them. Someone who benefits from conflict between the Lu family and the Thousand River Merchants Association."
"Or," another guard offered carefully, "Li Huang is clever enough to use that exact logic as cover. Making the connection so obvious that it seems impossible to be real, thereby protecting himself through perceived absurdity."
Wei Shao's eyes narrowed. "Also possible. Which is why we investigate thoroughly before taking action. I want intelligence gathered on Li Huang's recent activities, financial transactions, known associates. I want every merchant and official who had contact with those four assassins identified and questioned. I want—"
He stopped himself, taking a breath to control his rising anger.
"But first, before investigation, before intelligence work, before anything else..." His voice dropped to something cold and absolute. "I want those four assassins found and brought back here. Alive if possible for interrogation. Dead if necessary to prevent escape."
He turned to face the assembled guards fully, his eyes burning with intensity.
"Organize hunting parties. Ten men each, all cultivators, experienced trackers. I want parties sent in every direction from the manor—north, south, east, west, and all points between. Coordinate with town militia. Offer bounties to mercenaries and adventurers. Put descriptions of all four assassins throughout the region."
He held up four fingers, ticking off each target:
"The white-haired one with golden eyes and pale skin—distinctive appearance, likely wounded from my sword thrust, may already be dead but confirm the body if found. The older one with the long black beard—strong, experienced close-quarters fighter. The masked one who refuses to show his face—skilled with daggers, moves like a ghost. And the young one..."
Wei Shao's expression darkened further.
"The boy with long brown hair and empty dark eyes. Sixteen or seventeen years old. Small build but enhanced by body tempering. Cold. Ruthless. Utterly devoid of mercy or hesitation." His voice carried warning and respect in equal measure. "That one is the most dangerous. He poisoned the wine. He murdered Master Chen. He laughed while watching dozens die. He saved his white-haired companion using techniques I've never seen. He's the backup plan. The one who completes missions when everything else fails."
He paused, letting that sink in.
"Do not underestimate him because of his age. Do not assume his apparent weakness is real. And if you find him, do not attempt to capture him alone. He will kill you. He has already killed guards who thought a sixteen-year-old couldn't be a real threat."
The assembled guards nodded, their expressions showing they understood the seriousness.
"How much are we offering for their capture?" one guard asked.
Wei Shao considered briefly. "One thousand gold for all four captured alive. Five hundred gold for confirmed kills with bodies presented. Divide among the hunting party that succeeds. Payment authorized by Lu family funds—I have authority to access emergency reserves for this purpose."
Murmurs of appreciation and determination rippled through the assembled guards. One thousand gold was a fortune that could set up a family for life.
"When do we depart?" another guard asked eagerly.
"Within the hour," Wei Shao commanded. "Gather supplies for a week-long hunt. Assume they're injured and moving slowly, but don't count on that. Assume they have resources and contingency plans we don't know about. Assume they're heading toward the nearest city with underworld connections where they can disappear into criminal networks."
He moved to a map hanging on the wall, studying the regional geography.
"My best guess is they'll head southwest, toward Crimson Vale City. It's three days' travel, has extensive criminal infrastructure, and is far enough from Xia Lu Town that our local authority doesn't extend there. But send parties in all directions just in case I'm wrong."
His finger traced routes on the map, marking likely paths and chokepoints.
"Check every village. Question every farmer. Search every cave and abandoned building. Leave no stone unturned. These four have made a powerful enemy today, and I want them to understand the consequences of that decision."
The guards saluted and began dispersing to organize hunting parties, their movements urgent and purposeful.
Wei Shao remained in Lu Shin's chamber, standing beside the bed where his lord lay in coma, breathing but not conscious, alive but not living.
"I failed you," Wei Shao said quietly, speaking to the unconscious form. "I prepared thoroughly. I set the perfect trap. I identified the threat and struck before they could complete their technique. And still, they succeeded through methods I didn't anticipate."
He reached out and adjusted Lu Shin's blankets with surprising gentleness.
"But I swear on my honor as your guard, on my life as your servant, on everything I hold sacred—I will find them. I will make them pay for what they've done. And I will discover who sent them, who orchestrated this attack, who dared to strike at the Lu family with such brazen disrespect."
His hand moved to rest briefly on Lu Shin's still shoulder.
"Wake up, my lord. The world still needs your genius. Your family needs you. And I... I need to know that I haven't failed completely."
But Lu Shin didn't respond, couldn't respond, lost somewhere in the dark depths of coma where consciousness retreated from trauma too severe to face while waking.
Master Yao approached quietly, placing a hand on Wei Shao's shoulder. "You should rest. Get your own injuries treated. You won't help Lord Lu Shin by collapsing from exhaustion or letting infection set into broken ribs."
Wei Shao shook his head. "I'll rest when the assassins are caught. I'll treat my injuries when they no longer interfere with hunting. Until then, I have work to do."
He turned and left the chamber, his stride purposeful despite his injuries, his mind already working through logistics and strategy and the hundred details required to organize an effective manhunt.
Behind him, Lu Shin lay motionless, trapped in darkness, fighting battles no one could see against poison and damage that medical skill could only partially address.
And in the forest beyond the town, four assassins rested in a cave, unaware that one thousand gold had just been placed on their heads, that hunting parties were being organized, that their brief respite was about to end.
The game of survival was entering its next phase.
And only time would tell who would emerge victorious.
---
**End of Chapter 29**