A second black-clad man stood behind the attacker the poor monk had killed. When he saw the brother in front of him stop moving, he silently released a cloud of knockout smoke.
The poison remaining on the short blade slowly ate away the wounded man’s life. Little by little, his body became cold and black. Then there was nothing more.
The poor monk did not move her upper body. Her brows and eyes curved with her smile as she quietly pulled the knife free. She could hear another person breathing, but did not care. Her eyes, already adjusted to the dark carriage, remained calmly open. One cracked, filthy hand held the short blade that had once been pulled from her own belly.
Princess Fang was very fond of that knife. It formed a pair with the one she normally kept inside her boot: two matched blades, as devoted as a pair of mandarin ducks.
*Biyu was a singer of celebrated name;*
*Her husband served as a gentleman at court.*
*Peach blossoms covered the well,*
*And golden gates half concealed the hall.*
*She rejoiced whenever he came down to her,*
*And together they became twin mandarin ducks.*
*The cock has crowed, but dawn is still far;*
*The eastern sun-crow cannot yet shine.*
Princess Fang had not made the matched knives. Fang Luo forged them for her in his youth, after every crisis had settled, the young emperor had secured complete control of the court, and peace and celebration filled the country. Fang Luo spent half a month on them.
Yes, he knew a blacksmith’s craft. He had also learned to fashion gold and silver jewelry. Both skills came from their past, but there was no need to speak of that now.
Princess Fang knew only that Fang Luo had used the finest iron for the blades and copied the shape of a short knife she had lost–one she had loved because it fit her hand perfectly. He had set gold and pearls into their sheaths to form a beautiful design: the same design once flown on the banner of Princess Fang’s mother’s mountain stronghold.
*Mandarin ducks are close by nature,*
*Yet less joined than birds who share their wings.*
*Other people may swear an alliance,*
*But flesh and blood are bound by Heaven.*
*The Duke of Zhou honored Kangshu,*
*While Guan and Cai spread slander.*
*Zizang refused a realm of a thousand chariots;*
*Jizha admired the virtue of his choice.*
The second man raised his long sword. Squinting, he tried to distinguish the outline lying on the carriage floor, then thrust down with all his strength.
At the same moment, Princess Fang drove her short knife into his abdomen.
The person lying on the floor was not Princess Fang at all. It was the first black-clad attacker, already dead.
The carriage was narrow and piled with too many objects. One burly man’s body was enough to block the view of the brother behind him. The attackers had also stepped from a night filled with stars and moonlight into the cramped darkness, where the surrounding clutter inevitably divided their attention.
The poor monk wore a robe that was neither black, blue, nor brown. Her filthy face was neither yellow, white, nor red. Lying in the darkness, she resembled a large patch of grime and was almost impossible to notice.
The cramped carriage and tightly closed curtain also strengthened the knockout smoke. The antidote the attacker had taken could not withstand such a concentrated dose, leaving his thoughts confused. Princess Fang had swallowed no antidote, but she kept the Spirit-Stabilizing Pearl–a treasure of the immortals that countered every poison–inside her mouth.
The poison still prevented her wound from closing. Yet the Fire-Cleansed Cloth bound tightly around her body and the Medicine God’s precious remaining salve reduced the pain enough for her to move when necessary. The inner energy others had transferred to her could not enter her ruined energy center, but it soothed her aching meridians and returned a little flexibility to her body.
Several men kept Zhang Hua trapped in combat, forcing him yards away from the carriage. Across that small distance, a slim and agile black shadow darted forward. Like a monkey plucking a peach, the newcomer flipped up the curtain with ease and revealed the face of the black-clad man sitting on the floor with his legs spread.
“Oh? You succeeded?”
Princess Fang kicked hard. The dead man pitched into the newcomer’s arms, startling the small attacker into a shout.
“Damn it!”
Princess Fang’s blade swept after the corpse. The attacker raised a hand to block. A clear ring of metal against metal traveled through the open night.
Now it was Princess Fang, still dressed as a poor monk, who cursed inwardly. Who could have expected the attacker to be wearing iron fists wrapped in pale-yellow cloth? In the darkness, they looked exactly like human hands.
She was quietly annoyed. *Without inner energy, healing and movement are difficult enough. Even my eyesight has become this poor.*
The small man in black gave a surprised sound, then called with delight, “Come down and fight me.”
The poor monk laughed twice in a hoarse voice. “Benefactor, why brandish blades on such a fine and beautiful night? Why not sit down and share a drink?”
“Everyone impersonating Her Highness has been killed. You are the only bald donkey among them with any real skill. But you have no inner energy.”
The poor monk smiled until thirteen wrinkles gathered at the corner of each eye. “Benefactor, you praise this poor monk too highly. I am unworthy–”
She snapped up her knife and caught his incoming fist. Another bright clang rang like a bell. But instead of withdrawing, Princess Fang angled the blade with the force of the blow and slid it along his iron palm toward his wrist.
Had her inner energy remained, that single motion would have sent both the man’s hand and his head to the ground.
Unfortunately…
The attacker continued punching, neither hurrying nor slowing, as if he wanted to force her to reveal every exquisite move she knew. The poor monk did not disappoint him. She broke each attack as it came and borrowed his strength to answer it. Her body might have been impaired, but the cramped carriage gave her support on every side. With the strength of her arms, she could still twist, duck, and shift.
The attacker punched at the monk’s chest. She leaned backward and kicked at his lower abdomen. He sprang upward and brought both iron fists down as if splitting a mountain. She twisted aside and shot beneath him. Had her knife been one inch longer, it would already have pierced him.
Zhang Hua was still locked in a bitter struggle.
The strength of a battle formation lay in every fighter covering the others’ openings. It not only protected their own side from injury, but also punished every mistake the enemy made.
Zhang Hua barely held on. His sword grew so fierce it approached frenzy. Some movements ignored proper form and even his own safety, bringing him within a breath of injury several times. Fortunately, he was light and quick, and each weapon passed close enough to brush his clothes without catching him.
Ten men formed the battle array that trapped him.
Zhang Hua fought beneath an assault like a violent storm. He knew there were only two ways to break such a formation.
The first was speed–a sword fast enough that, in the time each of ten enemies struck once, he could strike ten times and defend his life without injury. If he could strike eleven times to their ten, the final blow could attack one of them. Zhang Hua was not yet capable of that.
The second was to release enough inner energy to injure them all at once, then kill them. Zhang Hua could not do that either.
Like a swimmer carried by a raging tide, he rose and fell between the flashes of steel. Beads of sweat flew from his face onto the men surrounding him, stinging their eyes.
Suddenly, every attack in the formation faltered.
Another group had arrived.
Their clothing belonged neither to the grand chancellor’s residence nor to any kind of night uniform Zhang Hua had ever seen. They made no effort to hide, covering neither their heads nor their faces. They carried their weapons as openly as a cook carrying a kitchen cleaver, entirely unconcerned about being seen.
Alarm rose in Zhang Hua’s heart. While answering blades from every direction, he tried to look toward Princess Fang. He saw her ignore the newcomers completely, lunge forward, and kill the black-clad man who had also turned to look.
Relief steadied him.
*I should remain calm in chaos just as Mother does. She has endured things far more frightening than this. If she can ignore the disturbance and keep doing what must be done, so can I.*
Zhang Hua recovered his spirit. While his enemies’ attention wandered, he killed two of them.
The open-faced newcomers charged in and slaughtered every man who still wore a mask. They did it cleanly and directly, as if they feared no consequence at all.
Zhang Hua had fought until every limb was weak. He sighed, stepped back, and only just managed to remain standing. After seeing the newcomers’ skill, his own tension disappeared. There was no point in worrying when he was completely outmatched.
“By the emperor’s secret order, seize the Fang woman and execute her on the–”
The final masked man never finished. He was killed.
The poor monk wiped her filthy knife on her filthy robe. Sitting on the ground, she raised her head through the pain and smiled faintly.
“You? Leave quickly, before anyone sees you.”
Two middle-aged men rushed forward and helped her up. An emotion Zhang Hua could not understand surged in their eyes.
“We are willing to follow you.”
None of the newcomers were young. The oldest had frost-white hair at both temples, while even the youngest were past thirty. Yet every one of them trembled with emotion. They resembled faithful servants reunited with a long-absent master, though there was greater intimacy between them. They resembled brothers meeting after a long separation, though their manner held greater respect.
Leaning against a horse, Zhang Hua studied them in silence.
Their faces were flushed. Their eyes shone wetly, and their lips trembled. Every one of them stood relaxed before Princess Fang’s drawn blade, yet each also straightened his back and lifted his head with pride.
The poor monk’s smile grew brighter. She looked them over and nodded with feeling.
“Ten years ago, I could not have asked for anything better. But now, I cannot accept.”
The gray-templed elder stepped forward and saluted solemnly. “Heroine Fang, it has been ten years–”
Before he could finish the courtesy, another man pushed ahead.
“You cannot make your brothers stand by and watch you go to your death.”
As he spoke, he reached for her wrist to read her pulse. Princess Fang did not avoid him. She watched them with some excitement of her own.
The poor monk put on an expression of sudden understanding. “Oh, so you cannot bear to let me die.”
Then she grew serious. “But I, Princess Fang, cannot watch my brothers go to their deaths while I alone survive. Since you withdrew to live quietly in the countryside, you must not–”
“The pursuers are close behind us. There is no time to argue.”
The elder whistled. Several tall horses galloped from the distance.
“You two take the side roads and escape the pursuit. I will have some of my men impersonate Zhang Hua and his companion to draw the pursuers away.”
Zhang Hua started to speak, but the elder cut him off. “You are Zhang Hua. All of us are old friends of your mother.”
Guilt entered Princess Fang’s eyes. She sat inside the carriage and spoke with apology written across her face.
“My old friends, I cannot obey you. If this Fang escapes, there are people who will never forgive you. If this Fang is caught by the pursuers, even more people will refuse to forgive you.
“Listen to your elder sister. Go home, change your clothes, find a courtesan, drink some flower wine, and grumble until the mood passes. This Fang accepts your kindness today. As long as the green mountains stand and the clear waters flow, we brothers will meet again.”
The elder could not hide his disappointment. He straightened his back even more.
“Even an old horse remembers the road. Are old men like us truly useless?”
Princess Fang sighed and smiled to comfort him.
“Do not forget the oath we swore long ago. Do you still remember it?”
The men recited together:
*Illuminate the foundation of our realm,*
*Join the sacred power that accords with Heaven.*
*Stand as a model, and harmony proclaims itself.*
*Like the River of Stars, form a pattern in the sky.*
*Hold faithfully to balance and harmony,*
*And govern all living people.*
*Let profound virtue spread far away,*
*A guiding form for ten thousand generations.*
*How shall virtue be exalted?*
*Let the ninefold music be made complete.*
Princess Fang said, “This Fang rode beneath spear and saber to win glory that would last a thousand years. I cannot break my own oath. Brothers, please go home.”
The elder restrained himself again and again before finally raising his voice.
“Heroine Fang, Zhang Hua–you two leave. This old man will not go with you. But if I stay here and kill people, you have no authority to stop me.”
Princess Fang cupped her fist from the carriage and called back, “Thank you.”