Chapter 1018 – Surrender or Else (Part 5)
The moment the assassin heard the words “the end of the scroll reveals the dagger,” his eyes widened slightly, and his expression twisted into something vicious.
In an instant, he drew out his sharp blade and lunged toward Jiang Pengji, the gleaming white dagger slicing through the air like a streak of light.
They were barely five steps apart; if he could seize this opportunity to kill her, sacrificing his own life would be worth it.
However, Jiang Pengji was no pushover, nor would she be the kind to flee around the tent in panic when pursued—
She kicked the small table in front of her, sending it flying straight at the assassin.
The assassin didn’t bother dodging; he charged directly at Jiang Pengji, allowing the table to crash into him without hesitation.
He knew that this was his only chance—if he missed it, he’d never get another shot to take down Jiang Pengji.
Besides, it was just a table. How much damage could it possibly do?
If not for Jiang Pengji, the assassin’s judgment might have been sound and even commendable.
Unfortunately, the target of the assassination was Jiang Pengji, a person who defied common sense.
A wooden board in her hand could become a deadly weapon, so how could a table wield less destructive power?
His focus was solely on his target, the dagger aimed point-blank at Jiang Pengji’s chest.
At the same moment, the table barreled toward him, crashing directly into his torso.
In the next instant, the table shattered with a loud crack, splintering into pieces, wood shards blasting everywhere.
The assassin felt like he hadn’t been hit by a table but rather slammed by a small mountain, his ribs crushing with a dull thud.
His forward assault was violently interrupted, sending him sprawling backward over ten feet like a broken doll.
His insides ruptured, thick blood surged up his throat, filling his mouth, and half of his face became a bloody mess.
Jiang Pengji rose gracefully, her expression as calm as ever.
The strategist in the tent: “…”
Everything hadn’t even begun, yet it was already over.
Feng Zhen maintained his forward lunge to rescue, his expression frozen in a bizarre curve, looking comically awkward.
Wei Ci, though not as exaggerated, wore a look of genuine concern, his light-colored lips pale as a ghost.
“Lord… Lord!”
Feng Zhen gawked disbelief at the wooden debris on the floor, questioning whether his eyes were deceiving him.
This table couldn’t possibly be made of mere wood; it had to be forged from pure gold or silver—otherwise, how could it inflict such damage?
Jiang Pengji’s gaze was icy, devoid of any warmth as she looked at the assassin.
With the table smashing into him head-on, the assassin had been sent flying over ten feet, his ribs nearly shattered, and his insides pierced by broken bones. He was clearly not going to survive and shouted, “What are you yelling for? Get someone to dispose of his body; I’ll have nightmares if I see it!”
Feng Zhen: “…”
Nightmares?
Is the Lord being serious?
As reality sank in, Feng Zhen found himself breaking out in a cold sweat, his front and back damp with nervous perspiration.
The scene had been far too intense—just a mere five steps separated Jiang Pengji and the assassin—a genuine life-or-death moment—
If Jiang Pengji had been killed, their fledgling enterprise would come to a forced halt.
The army would be leaderless, handing a free gift to the Northern Border.
Outside the tent, the guards burst in upon hearing the commotion, kneeing in urgency as they saw the assassin lying on the ground.
Jiang Pengji’s expression softened slightly; she said, “It’s over, just drag this guy away—wait, keep that blueprint.”
She picked up the internal layout of the royal city, while four guards each grabbed one of the assassin’s limbs, hauling him out.
If it weren’t for the large pool of still-wet blood on the ground, no one would have guessed that an assassination had taken place inside the tent.
As the guards left, Wei Ci stepped forward to apologize.
Regardless of circumstances, this assassin had been brought before Jiang Pengji by him.
Failing to recognize the assassin’s intent was a serious oversight.
Jiang Pengji raised an eyebrow, “This isn’t Zixiao’s fault. Not to mention one assassin; even a hundred couldn’t harm me.”
Beside her, Feng Zhen chimed in to soothe, “The Northern Border’s treachery doesn’t seem to die easily. I thought they were out of tricks, but it turns out they still have some fight left. Zixiao may have erred, but he’s not the main cause. Since the Lord has pardoned him, Zixiao shouldn’t dwell on it.”
Jiang Pengji couldn’t refuse Wei Ci’s suggestion and ended up giving him a token penalty of three months’ salary, which he felt was far too lenient and tried to negotiate for something harsher.
“The pressing matter isn’t your fault. The Northern Border is the true scourge,” Jiang Pengji frowned, her tone a touch “grumpy,” “If Zixiao really thinks he made a mistake, I’ll deal with him later. Right now—there’s no rush—”
News of Jiang Pengji’s assassination attempt quickly reached Sun Wen and Qi Guanrang’s ears.
The two rushed over, surprised to find the main tent orderly, completely contrary to their expectations of chaos.
“Just heard the Lord was attacked; is everything alright?”
Qi Guanrang’s expression remained composed, though his collar was slightly askew, clearly rushed, and his breath came in hurried gasps.
Jiang Pengji derisively retorted, “Nope, if that’s the caliber of assassins I have to deal with, it’d be a miracle if they could even scratch me.”
At her words, Sun Wen promptly swallowed his question back down.
No need to say, their lord was definitely the one unscathed.
“Zai Dao, take a look at this blueprint for the royal city—”
Jiang Pengji handed the document brought by the assassin to Sun Wen. He examined it closely, capable of discerning its authenticity with a few glances.
“It’s at least 80% likely to be genuine. The Northern Border is quite committed to this assassination attempt, even using real blueprints as bait.”
Sun Wen murmured, receiving a cold smirk from Jiang Pengji in response.
“Committed? If that’s the case, then that Right Prime Minister deserves sympathy.”
Sun Wen furrowed his brow, “The assassin is using the Right Prime Minister of the Northern Border as cover?”
The Northern Border has always looked down on the Central Plains, their enmity running deep; the Right Prime Minister was a prime example of this.
Oh, and the Left Prime Minister of the Northern Border is Wu Libai.
Unlike the Central Plains, which respects the right side, the Northern Border has always revered the left.
“Not just that—” Jiang Pengji stated firmly, “I suspect that Right Prime Minister genuinely wanted to surrender, which is why the blueprint he brought was real. But he never anticipated his messenger would be intercepted halfway, resulting in a substitute—”
Jiang Pengji had felt on high alert since she saw the assassin.
Because the assassin had harbored murder intent toward her; if it had been a genuine defector, they might have malicious thoughts but would never dare to harbor killing intent.
Jiang Pengji also noticed that the man’s clothing was not well-fitted at all; it hung off him limply. To the average eye, it might look wrinkled from sitting, but Jiang Pengji had a keen eye for fit. Whether it was poorly worn or simply ill-fitting, she knew the difference.
The assassin’s clothes were likely not his own!
Jiang Pengji had gathered insights about the Northern Border court from Sun Wen. The Right Prime Minister had a deep-seated contempt for the Central Plains, often taking pleasure in humiliating Han people—a quintessential savage. How could someone like him study Han literature with earnestness and mentor his subordinates to possess even a shred of refinement?
