The remaining pursuer was now on guard and might turn back to deal with Shen Xuanqing. Luo Biao suddenly stopped and called out in a low voice to Qiu Laoda and Qiu Laosan.
"Let's go back and help Second Brother Shen. There's only one left. He’s been chasing us all night like a mangy dog, but now that we have our knives ready and four of us together, are we really afraid of him? At the very least, we can split up and distract him. Once he shows an opening, Second Brother Shen will definitely finish him off!"
Hearing this, Qiu Laoda’s killing intent flared. He tightened his grip on his knife and smacked Qiu Laosan on the back of the head when the latter hesitated, cursing, "Show some backbone! We’re not the kind to abandon our brothers and run!"
"Son of a bitch! You want to kill your grandpa? Come on then!"
Qiu Laoda shouted into the woods. The three quickly split up, forcing the black-clad assassin to focus on only one of them—whoever was unlucky enough to be targeted.
Luo Biao was still holding up. Shen Xuanqing had saved him multiple times, and like Qiu Laoda, though he hadn’t studied much, he lived by the code of loyalty on the streets. How could he abandon Shen Xuanqing and flee for his own life?
While running away had been manageable, now that they were turning back to face the assassin, Qiu Laosan’s legs trembled uncontrollably. But he had always feared Qiu Laoda, and after that slap, plus knowing that without Shen Xuanqing, he’d never make it out of these deep mountains alive, he gritted his teeth and didn’t dare turn tail.
They had fled all night without regard for direction, plunging deeper into the wilderness. Shen Xuanqing, however, moved through the mountains like a fish in water. If they wanted to survive, they had to cling to this hunter. So Qiu Laosan forced himself to hold on, refusing to run.
After a whole night, they were exhausted—but so were their pursuers. Even with martial training, they weren’t made of iron, fatigue weighed on them too.
Shen Xuanqing hid behind a large tree, listening to Luo Biao and the others shouting curses. He knew they were trying to help him.
Unlike facing wild beasts, no matter how cunning animals were, they couldn’t match human intelligence. But this sudden ambush had left many people dead without even knowing who their killers were.
So even though he had taken lives, his heart remained cold and unshaken. His hands were used to slaughtering livestock, and bloodshed was nothing new to him. The only thing that rose in him was a wave of nausea. Killing so many of the horse caravan’s men—he considered it vengeance for their deaths.
When the masked assassin fell with an arrow in him, Qiu Laosan, who had barely dodged another arrow that grazed his pants, nearly pissed himself in fright. Trembling, he looked down and saw that, thanks to his thick cotton-lined trousers, the poisoned arrowhead hadn’t pierced his skin. His legs gave out, and he collapsed to his knees.
When he finally snapped out of it and heard Qiu Laoda and Luo Biao say both assassins were dead, it felt like a dream. Reality crashed down, and tears and snot streamed down his face as he muffled his sobs with his hands.
Shen Xuanqing quickly searched the two assassins, removing the cloth covering their faces. He didn’t recognize them, nor did they carry any tokens to identify their origins. The only clue was a blue sigil branded below the base of their necks.
Qiu Laoda had seen much of the world, but even he didn’t recognize the sigil’s meaning.
Without resting, Shen Xuanqing ordered Luo Biao to help him drag the corpses into a shallow cave hidden under dead leaves and branches. Qiu Laoda and Qiu Laosan handled the other body. Once done, Shen Xuanqing said, "We can’t stay. Move fast."
There had been more than just these two pursuers last night. If the bodies were discovered, revenge would follow. They had to leave quickly.
As they walked, Shen Xuanqing pondered. These men hadn’t come for their horses or goods. The twenty dead brothers from last night had been left untouched—no looting, just slaughter. They weren’t bandits after money.
He asked Qiu Laoda if he had any enemies, but as a horse trader, the worst he had were disputes with competitors. In Fenggu Town, who could afford such skilled assassins? Even if they had the silver, they lacked the connections.
That left only one possibility: the assassins hadn’t been after them. Maybe they had stumbled into something in those mountains—something they weren’t meant to see, and were silenced for it.
The logic became clear. Their attackers had underestimated them, thinking them mere ordinary men. Their panicked flight, with men falling one after another, would convince any observer they were merely terrified farmers with no combat skills—strong and fast, perhaps, but nothing more. By the second half of the night, only two assassins had been sent to finish them off.
The four of them pushed through forests and climbed slopes, never stopping, covering their tracks as they went, not daring to look back.
By noon, the sun was scorching, and their lips were cracked from thirst. When Shen Xuanqing finally found a mountain stream, they halted. After so long without water, no one cared how icy it was, they drank greedily.
Qiu Laosan was exhausted like a dead dog. After drinking, he flopped onto his back, gasping for air. Worse, his stomach growled—their provisions had been left on the carriage.
Shen Xuanqing was also hungry. Resting by the stream, he scanned the surroundings and pointed at a tree. "The fruit on that one is edible."
Qiu Laosan, who had been sprawled out, immediately sat up.
Qiu Laoda and Luo Biao licked their parched lips. After the terror and hunger, anything edible was a blessing.
The tree wasn’t tall, but many of its fruits had been eaten by birds and insects. Only a few good ones remained. At this point, no one was picky, even the pecked ones were plucked and eaten.
After the fruit and more water, Shen Xuanqing refilled his bamboo flask, which he had carried all along. Before leaving home, Lu Gu had bought him a leather waterskin, but it had been used for wine and left behind in last night’s escape.
He filled the bamboo flask, and Qiu Laosan, who still had a leather wine bag, did the same. It would have to suffice for now.
Not far into their journey, Shen Xuanqing spotted a flower snake coiled on a branch. If not for the urgency of escape, snake meat would’ve made a decent meal.
He identified the direction home, planning to move fast before the assassins discovered the two dead bodies. Once they reached the prefecture or town, the killers wouldn’t dare strike openly. As for the rest—survival came first.
Focused on the path ahead, he suddenly heard a faint rustle. Instantly alert, he swiftly found cover and hid.
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