Martial King's Retired Life

In all the time he had spent alone, the silence he could hear in the forest never preceded any good news; it was either a portent of taking damage or perishing. In spite of that, he’d lie prone there for three days straight without budging a muscle if he needed to. Ironically, he barely had opportunities to display his natural gift as a hunter. He, instead, spent the majority of his life chasing after invisible darkness with his life constantly in jeopardy, but he was willing to see it through because he carried the “Tang” surname, because he was the son of Bright Mirror Palace’s patriarch, Tang Nuan, and because of the look in his mother’s eyes in her final moments.

He had forgotten how it felt to chase happiness while living with the pain, the pain that couldn’t be discerned as the pain of being burnt or the pain of being torn, the ambiguous pain that was always there and immeasurable. Since that fateful day, hatred became his sustenance; he did everything in his power to squeeze out every ounce of power from it. As a result of his diligence, he grew at an unbelievable rate. If any survivors of Bright Mirror Palace were to see him now, he’d be unrecognisable. They wouldn’t be able to believe the dull boy who used to always be bullied had grown into the Tang Ye of today.

His job was to reach Autumn Light Temple before daybreak. Shen Yiren –perhaps Mountain Monster, too – sacrificed themselves to deliver the information to him. He knew what his job was from the moment he began following behind Shen Yiren. He didn’t need to protect her or rescue the hostages. Rescuing the hostages was for the Qilin Guards, or maybe Emperor’s Entourage, or maybe some other force of the imperial court. His sole task was to pass on the information even if it meant sacrificing the backbone of Liu Shan Men.

As soon as he started moving, the assassins started their pursuit. Despite taking paths that were hard to traverse, he was in danger several times due to the experienced and patient assassins’ strategies. At the same time they baited him into aiding his abandoned comrades, they prevented him from exiting the forest, constantly keeping him within five kilometres of reach. Furthermore, he was racing against the clock to save the hostages. Consequently, a confrontation was inevitable.

Tang Ye positioned himself out in the open comparably to highway robbers, making it seem as if he was their hunter. As soon as they were face to face, he made his move. As veteran assassins, they had honed their ability to handle sudden attacks, so he was unable to surprise them.

Two of the three assassins drew their broadswords at the same time and occupied both of Tang Ye’s sides. Based off the last day they had been playing cat and mouse, Tang Ye discerned they didn’t pale in comparison to him in combat. Therefore, he never planned to hold back. However, he still underestimated them. Even though he used different techniques off both hands, all he could do was stand in place whilst deflecting attacks.

As the heat of Yang Blood True Qi burst into the air, the two assassins retreated right after the first exchange, zig-zagged across each other and then closed in again, stabbing at his chest and shoulder simultaneously. Broadswords didn’t pack the biggest punch when it came to stabbing techniques, yet Tang Ye felt his skin sting from the emitted qis alone. He spread his fingers and banged down on their blades one after another.

Having erased the internal energy he obtained from Poison King and Luo Sword Manor’s “Scorching Sun Spirit”, his internal energy had regressed back to when he left the capital despite his efforts over the last six months. Thanks to the trip to Nanjiang, though, he switched from developing internal energy potency to learning how to maximise his use of it.

Although the two assassins’ internal energy was on par with Tang Ye’s, they both grunted as they weren’t prepared for the heat of Yang Blood True hitting their meridians. In a contest of skill, they were his match. When comprehension and usage were added to the equation, though, they were not his match. More often than not, strength and finesse didn’t win fights. Implementing the right tool at the right moment won fights. Having said that, assassination was no ordinary profession. They didn’t learn martial arts for the sake of learning. Plus, they were under no obligation to engage in a martial arts contest.

The two assassins who initiated combat had fulfilled their roles as veils for the third assassin to flank Tang Ye.

Tang Ye kept some attention on the third assassin. Alas, he didn’t expect the third assassin to utilise such an elusive style. Instead of hitting a vital, the third assassin sliced Tang Ye’s hamstrings. It didn’t look deep or serious, but the constant blood loss would zap away Tang Ye’s energy. More importantly, it’d hamper Tang Ye’s chances of escaping.

Instead of dodging to reduce the damage, Tang Ye extended through his back, crossed his arms over and performed a scissoring motion onto the assassin’s neck. In the end, he traded a leg for a life.

Tang Ye was never fond of hearing the bone-crunching sound (a description his shifu used when he taught the technique) for reasons he didn’t like to mention to the point that he avoided using the technique. An aversion to shedding blood was arguably the reason he could never be a true avenger.

Tang Ye instilled fear in the other two assassins with his kill, compromising their abilities enough for him to finish them in the next ten exchanges. In order to beat the clock, he snapped their blades and crushed their skulls from the front.

Once he calmed his breathing down, Tang Ye sealed the accupoints in his leg to slow down the rate of blood loss, but he remained vigilant the whole time for he clearly recalled there were four assassins who tailed him.

“You’re still a weakling after all these years.” The assassin standing in the distance practically presented himself the same way Tang Ye did when he challenged the three. From his appearance to his aura, perhaps even his childhood, he bore a strong resemblance to Tang Ye. If he were to remove the black veil covering his face, there was no doubt Tang Ye would be able to put a name to his face.

“… Tang Za.”