Killing Does Not Always Require Brute Force

"Alright." At this moment, even William Wang Jinling had no solution, nor the strength to say, "Let me do it!"

He could ride, and his horsemanship was decent, but compared to Feng Qingchen, it was worlds apart.

Feng Qingchen’s riding skills bordered on miraculous. Besides, with the assassins closing in, he had no time to think further...

"Kill! Kill the Wang Clan Patriarch, kill Feng Qingchen!" The assassins were now only a hundred paces from the carriage, their proximity driving them even more berserk.

The shouts of murder from behind made Feng Qingchen tense, but she forced herself to stay focused—panic meant death.

Stay calm, stay calm—Feng Qingchen, you have to stay calm. You’re not alone now; you have William Wang Jinling. You can’t drag him down with you.

Feng Qingchen kept reminding herself to stay calm, working to steady her breath and ignore the people behind her.

The coachman started to panic as the assassins closed in and Feng Qingchen still hadn’t vaulted onto the horse. He hesitated, but Feng Qingchen shouted, "Don’t do anything—I’ll get on myself!"

As soon as she finished speaking, Feng Qingchen gripped her surgical scalpel between her teeth, ready to vault onto the horse.

Even without a saddle, she could still sit steady on a horse’s back—and she had to. The assassins behind were getting closer; she couldn’t afford a single mistake.

Feng Qingchen took a deep breath, gripped the horse’s mane with both hands, and jumped up, vaulting onto its back in one smooth motion.

I did it!

Feng Qingchen let out a sigh of relief, took the surgical scalpel in her left hand, and with a single slash, severed the rope connecting the horse to the carriage.

"Beautiful!"

If they weren’t still being chased, the coachman would have genuinely wanted to praise her.

"William Wang Jinling, get up here." Feng Qingchen squeezed the horse’s belly with her legs, reached out her right hand, and leaned her body to the side.

"Alright. Be careful, Qingchen." William Wang Jinling might not know martial arts, but he did know how to borrow force. With Feng Qingchen’s help, he easily vaulted onto the horse and shielded her in his arms.

"Hyah!"

As soon as William Wang Jinling was on the horse, Feng Qingchen quickly undid her belt, leaned forward, and looped it around the horse’s head.

"William Wang Jinling, let’s go. Hold me tight."

Feng Qingchen urged the horse to gallop. The assassins, seeing their prey escape, grew even more murderous. The coachman only managed to block them for a moment before he was killed.

"After them!"

The Wang Clan horse wasn’t a legendary Blackcloud Stallion or Bloodsweat Charger, but outrunning assassins on foot wasn’t hard—even if it was usually just a carriage horse.

That is, if the horse had a saddle and reins to make it easier to control.

If Feng Qingchen were alone, it would be fine. But with William Wang Jinling in tow, after just two streets, the assassins caught up: "Hurry, they can’t run much farther!"

Feng Qingchen glanced back and saw a dozen shadowy figures—she was so furious she nearly coughed up blood.

The Wang Clan guards had already blocked so many, how could there still be so many left?

Three waves of assassins—did they coordinate this?

Feng Qingchen was utterly frustrated, but what made it worse was that her only self-defense weapon—her pistol—was missing.

As she urged the horse to run faster, Feng Qingchen was cursing the bastard who’d stolen her pistol.

Damn it—if she had her pistol, these guys would be nothing. One bullet each and it’d be settled. But all she could do now was imagine it.

Inside the Imperial Palace, the silent Ninth Royal Uncle Nolan Dongling suddenly felt a painful tightness in his chest, unconsciously curling forward.

"Ninth Brother, what’s wrong?" The Emperor rarely saw Nolan show any weakness and seized the chance to press him.

"Ninth Royal Uncle, are you alright? Should we call for the imperial physician?" Prince Samuel and Prince Quentin quickly asked, interrupting their earlier conversation with Prince Damien of Southlyn and Crown Prince Terrence of Lyndaria.

"No need, it’s just an old illness acting up." Nolan Dongling waved them off, sat up straight, trying to dispel the pain in his chest—but it didn’t work. He finally stood: "Your Majesty, I’m not feeling well. Please allow me to withdraw."

Not feeling well?

The Emperor didn’t believe Nolan for a second—even if it was true, he had no intention of letting him leave the palace tonight.

"Ninth Brother, you’re unwell—how can you go back like this? Someone, summon Imperial Physician Sun!"

The Emperor deliberately named Sun Zhengdao, though no one knew his true motives.

"Your Majesty, there’s no need," Nolan replied, but the Emperor wasn’t about to give him a chance. He snapped at the eunuch beside him, "Well? Go, now!"

"Yes, Your Majesty." The eunuch, terrified, dashed away, while Nolan Dongling frowned in displeasure.

"Ninth Brother, since you’re unwell, stay in the palace tonight. The hall you lived in as a child has been kept ready for you—you can move in directly." The Emperor was determined not to let Nolan leave.

Nolan said no more, bowed to the Emperor, "I obey, Your Majesty." If he had to stay, so be it—assuming the palace could hold him.

Nolan didn’t argue further and headed toward his old quarters. As soon as he left, the Emperor ordered his personal eunuch, "Go—tighten security. Nothing must happen to Nolan Dongling in the palace."

It was surveillance in all but name. The eunuch understood perfectly, and also knew that the Emperor had never gotten the better of Nolan—this wasn’t the first time such a thing had happened.

Many were pleased that Nolan stayed in the palace. With him gone, negotiations among the four kingdoms went much smoother—except for Prince Damien of Southern Lyn, who refused to budge. Crown Prince Terrence of Lyndaria and the Second Prince of Northlyn were much easier to deal with, and the Emperor’s mood improved considerably...

"Young Master, Feng Qingchen, let’s just accept our fate." The assassins had surrounded Feng Qingchen and William Wang Jinling, but hesitated to attack.

It wasn’t that they didn’t want to—it was that they didn’t dare.

Neither Feng Qingchen nor William Wang Jinling was skilled in martial arts, yet the killing intent they radiated made the assassins’ hearts tremble. For a moment, none dared make a move, afraid of provoking disaster.

"Looks like, if we can’t live together, at least we can die together." Even surrounded by assassins, William Wang Jinling remained perfectly calm.

Though he was drenched in sweat, hair plastered to his face, William Wang Jinling’s poise was undiminished—if anything, he was even more charismatic than usual.

"Smart choice. Young Master, Feng Qingchen, surrender and accept your fate. I’ll make sure you get a whole corpse." The assassin gripped his blade, inching forward—success was within reach, but he dared not be careless.

"Accept my fate? If you want to kill us, you’d better have the skill—I’m not ready to die yet." Feng Qingchen touched the small hidden weapon strapped to her left arm, silently calculating her odds against these men.

"Not ready to die? Today, whether you want to or not, you’ll die. Young Master, Feng Qingchen, come down—we’ll make it quick. Otherwise..."

"Otherwise what?"

Suddenly, Feng Qingchen shoved the belt into William Wang Jinling’s hands. "Hold tight."

Before William Wang Jinling could react, Feng Qingchen stabbed the surgical scalpel deep into the horse’s back and leapt off. "William Wang Jinling, go to Prince Samuel Manor for reinforcements. I’ll wait for you to come save me."

"Qingchen..." William Wang Jinling finally panicked, shouting her name, clutching the belt tightly and trying to turn the horse around. But the horse, already crazed with pain, wouldn’t listen—within seconds, it had bolted a hundred meters away...