Second Prince left Baoyue Building, his face unusually cold. Regardless of what information he gleaned from this conversation, or how much trust and fear he held for Fan Xian's principles, tonight's events had proven many things. His influence in the capital had been ruthlessly uprooted by Fan Xian. Now, only two paths lay before him: either to resolutely rely on the Eldest Princess, or to obediently withdraw from the battle for the throne, as Fan Xian intended.

Without power, what could he fight with? But the Second Prince also understood in his heart that if things continued this way, and if Fan Xian hadn't swept away his power tonight, then in the near future, either Qing would fall into turmoil, or he would be mercilessly eliminated.

But he would feel no gratitude towards Fan Xian, because Fan Xian had forced him onto a dead end.

After exchanging a few words with Fan Xian, the First Prince also left Baoyue Building with a worried expression, also taking the Third Prince with him. The conversation between the imperial brothers had not been pleasant, and since the Third Prince needed to return to the palace, it was appropriate for him, as the commander of the Imperial Guards, to take him back along the way.

By this time, the night was growing late. If there weren't those thick snow clouds in the sky, one would surely be able to see the moon had moved to its proper mid-night position.

Fan Xian did not leave Baoyue Building. He sat alone for a long time, had the staff prepare a pot of clear mutton slices, ate until he felt warm all over, and drank a few more cups of wine before slowly standing up and walking to the window to look down.

Outside the window was a deathly silence. The people from the Kyoto Prefecture and the Garrison Division had all withdrawn. Baoyue Building was closed for the day, and the girls had gone to bed early, leaving only a few clever people to serve him.

Red candles stood silently in the building. Fan Xian had Shi Qing'er prepare a tub of hot water, and he took a comfortable bath.

After the bath, he rubbed his slightly red cheeks and asked, "Has the First Prince been to Sheep Onion Alley these past two days?"

Shi Qing'er, listening from the side, knew that the big boss was talking about the affairs of that Hu princess. She shook her head and was about to step forward to help him dress when he waved her out.

Before long, Sang Wen entered. This gentle manager of Baoyue Building, slightly crouching, carefully put on his close-fitting underwear, her fingers gliding over the surface of his well-proportioned muscles, causing her to pause slightly, but daring not to do anything more. She then carefully fastened the dark crossbow, only three fingers wide, onto his left forearm.

Putting on his boots and inserting the slender black crossbow bolt into the boot, Sang Wen stood up and made a final adjustment to Fan Xian's clothing, protecting his skin, which might be subject to injury, with that black Supervisory Council uniform, before nodding.

Fan Xian smiled slightly in appreciation, confirmed that none of the pills on his person were missing, patted Sang Wen on the head, and walked out of the room.

Sang Wen paused slightly and said, "My Lord, the sword?"

Fan Xian turned his head, looking at the Great Wei Emperor's Sword that Sang Wen was holding in her hands. His expression was calm, but a trace of blankness flashed in his eyes. After a long while, he said, "This sword is too bright. It's better not to take it. Just leave it here for now."

—————————————————————

The triple leather curtain of Baoyue Building was lifted, and all the responsible people respectfully saw Fan Xian out the door. He had already lifted the hood of his lotus robe and put it on his head, allowing the shadows to cover his handsome face. Stepping down the stone steps outside the building, he couldn't help but look up at the heavy night, as if wanting to confirm whether it would snow later.

A carriage drove over, but he shook his head, indicating that he wanted to walk for a while, and then headed east.

Today was the day of the banquet at Baoyue Building. He had not brought the Tiger Guards, and the entire force of the Supervisory Council in Kyoto had launched countless raids under the cover of night. Even the power of the Qi Nian Group had been thrown in. At this time, those following him were only a few guards from the Fan residence and a coachman.

Everyone knew about the banquet at Baoyue Building today, and they had also heard about the commotion in Kyoto tonight. They all assumed that the young master wanted to walk and think, so they dared not disturb him, only allowing the carriage to follow far behind.

Walking east for not too far, he turned into a straight street, Chang Street.

Straight Chang Street.

Wearing a lotus robe, he suddenly stopped, as if listening to something. Then he waved his hand, signaling the carriage behind him not to follow, and he himself stepped into the street.

At this time, the night was already deep. A strange mist suddenly emerged in the snow-stopped streets of Kyoto. The mist was heavier than the air, gathering from all directions, gradually pervading Chang Street.

The slightly white mist, not very distinct in color on the Kyoto night streets without lights, effectively hindered people's vision, making them as blind as if their eyes were open, unable to see their fingers even when reaching out their hands.

The carriage following behind dared not let Fan Xian travel alone in this night, nor did they intend to follow his arrangements, but at this time, they were still forced to stop.

The Fan residence guards in the carriage turned the wind lanterns brighter, but the dim yellow light only illuminated the mist in front, like the clouds above Cang Mountain, unable to probe far away, and they could no longer see the lonely figure in the black lotus robe.

……

……

On Chang Street, the white mist gradually thickened, and one could only hear Fan Xian's faint footsteps, sounding with an extremely steady and fixed rhythm. Apart from that, there was not a single sound, as if there were no living creatures on this street.

It seemed that the people the Supervisory Council wanted to kill tonight had already been killed, and the people they wanted to arrest had already been captured into the heavenly prison, firmly managed by the Seventh Division. The Kyoto people who didn't know about these things were greedily enjoying the warmth in their quilts, and the night-wandering dignitaries had already returned to their residences in fright. The watchmen were slacking off, and the soldiers of the Thirteen City Gate Division were only watching the city gates.

The footsteps continued forward, and then, seeming to notice something, they paused in the white mist. A gust of winter night wind blew, thinning the mist on this Chang Street slightly, and one could vaguely see the end of Chang Street.

There should be no one at the end of Chang Street, but it always felt as if someone was guarding there. Wearing a lotus robe, he stopped, raised his head, and stared straight ahead with calm eyes, as if trying to see who was there.

Then he saw a person.

That person was burly, with shoulders like iron, standing like a mountain at the end of Chang Street, carrying a longbow behind him, and a quiver on his back, with thirteen arrows in the quiver.

The wind stopped and the fog thickened, no longer visible.

Tonight was the moment when Fan Xian had the Supervisory Council launch an all-out attack on the Second Prince's faction, but he seemed to have forgotten one thing: when you attack most fiercely, it is often when your own defense is weakest. At this time, there was no one else he could rely on besides himself. He was retaliating for the ambush in the valley, an unreasonable retaliation, but he forgot that a certain Grand Commandant also wanted to retaliate for the death of his only son.

Could he dodge that bow?

Two years ago, he was shot down from the palace wall by this bow, without any power to fight back. That arrow had become the biggest blank in his martial arts cultivation.

So he stopped in the mist.

On the other side of the white mist, Yan Xiaoyi slightly lowered his eyes, sensing the aura of the person in the mist, ensuring that the other party would not escape his control.

On this side of the mist, there was no sign of movement.

……

……

Yan Xiaoyi, the former commander of the Imperial Guards, now the Grand Commandant of the Northern Expedition of Qing, one of the few super experts of the ninth rank in Qing, was naturally not a madman. He knew what it meant to assassinate Fan Xian on a Kyoto street.

But he still did not forcibly suppress his fighting spirit and bloodthirst, because when he saw Yan Shen's body in the Yuan Tai military camp, he had already made up his mind: what is the meaning of life? Even if he later commanded all the troops in the world and conquered this entire country, who would he entrust it to?

So he was not a madman, but he was already mad.

Kyoto was not peaceful tonight. No one had expected Fan Xian to carry out such a violent sweep, and at the same time, no one would have thought that the dignified Grand Commandant of the Northern Expedition would abandon all concerns and return to the mindset of a primitive hunter, coldly observing Fan Xian, watching Fan Xian, waiting for Fan Xian, and patiently waiting for Fan Xian to reach his death ground.

Although there was mist on Chang Street, which could block people's vision, it could not block Yan Xiaoyi's arrow. His arrow did not need eyes.

Tonight he had come with thirteen arrows, wanting to ask Fan Xian what that line on the pasted notice, "Thirteen Lang," meant. If Fan Xian died, it didn't matter whether he asked this question or not—no matter how much Fan Xian had progressed in these years, no matter how talented he was in martial arts cultivation, Yan Xiaoyi somewhat coldly believed that he could definitely kill the other party.

This matter had nothing to do with the struggle for the throne, nothing to do with the world, not for public justice, not for profit, but simply because private grudges could not be resolved.

His aura had already locked on. The two were at the end of the street and in the middle of the street. Apart from facing each other head-on, there was no other way. Fan Xian was silent in the mist, as if evaluating whether he should fight or retreat.

……

……

After a long silence, Yan Xiaoyi took a step forward, and the murderous aura around him made the white mist in front of him swing, revealing a space in front of him. The air suddenly became colder again.

However… he immediately retracted his foot and glanced at the eaves above the upper left, frowning slightly, using the stone beast on the eaves to block his body.

With his body and the stone beast as a line, he felt that at the end of that line, there was an abnormally terrifying killing intent waiting for him.

This was an unreasonable feeling. He had grown up in the forest since childhood, dealing with wild beasts, and had developed a sensitivity like a wild beast. He could always predict the existence of danger in advance.

At this time, the longbow was already in his hand, but the arrow was not yet on the string. Yan Xiaoyi lowered his head slightly, sensing the movements around him—who was ambushing whom?

He was an unparalleled expert of the ninth rank. Apart from those four old monsters, Yan Xiaoyi did not have much to fear in this world. Even, whenever his state entered its peak, he would always have the idea of challenging a Grand Master in his heart.

It was also because of his realm that he could clearly detect that there were only he and Fan Xian on Chang Street, so he dared to use his mind to stalk Fan Xian so coldly, ready to fire a fatal arrow at any time.

However, when he took that step earlier, he discovered an extremely strange phenomenon.

First and foremost was the unknown source of danger, and secondly, when he took that step, he felt that the smell of the mist behind him seemed to have changed.

It was a smell, not a taste.

It was the slightest change in the touch of the wind and the mist, not the feeling after entering the mouth.

Yan Xiaoyi knew that a very powerful person had been hiding behind him all along. He didn't know what realm this person's martial arts cultivation had reached, but being able to hide from him for so long must have the ability to hurt him.

He dared not move rashly, because he knew that once he fired an arrow, the accumulated essence, energy, and spirit would be released, revealing some flaws. Once his mind was flawed, he was not sure that he could retreat completely under the combined attack of the expert behind him and the danger in the distance.

Chang Street was silent like ice. The person on the other side of the mist could not move, and Yan Xiaoyi on this side of the mist could not move either.

He could not move his feet, but he could move his hands.

Yan Xiaoyi took a deep breath, and his entire body seemed to be wider. His fingers slowly fell, as if unintentionally brushing across his bowstring.

His fingers were thick, but this movement was very gentle, like a soft brush sweeping across paper, scallion fingers plucking the strings of a zither, orchids blooming slightly.

……

……

With a soft hum, the bowstring trembled.

It seemed that a strange magic was generated on his bowstring. The slightly trembling bowstring drove the surrounding air, twisting the slightly white mist, gradually condensing into strength, cutting through Chang Street in front of him, and with this soft hum, silently attacked the other side of the mist.

Attacking the person on the other side of the mist.

A muffled groan came from the other side of the mist, followed by the sound of someone falling to the ground.

Yan Xiaoyi calmly flipped his wrist, the longbow stood upright. Without seeing how he moved, the arrow feathers were already on the string. The previous arrow without an arrow had already had such power, let alone now that he had an arrow on his string!

But he did not fire the arrow, only remained silent, because he clearly judged that the person on the other side of the mist was not Fan Xian. Although he was very puzzled, clearly he had watched Fan Xian leave Baoyue Building, when did the other party switch, he understood that tonight's hunt had reversed the roles of hunter and prey.

Yan Xiaoyi was not afraid at all. As long as the longbow was in his hand, even if two ninth-rank experts came to ambush him, he would not have any fear. On the contrary, he had a long-lost excitement, ready to end a certain life with the arrow on his bowstring at any time.

The bow and arrow in his hand were not aimed, but his mind had locked onto the distant place, only the stone beast on the eaves of the residential house separated the two sides, unable to fire an arrow.

Yan Xiaoyi also focused some of his energy on the smell of the mist behind him, which had changed for a moment and now had returned to normal.

No one would move first.

……

……

It was unknown how long had passed, the strange mist on Chang Street still had not dissipated, and Yan Xiaoyi's mountain-like body still stood, without any sign of fatigue.

But he was clear that the two people in the dark were not fatigued either, at least they had not let him perceive any slack in their minds—being able to compete with him in patience and perseverance, this was a very remarkable thing, Yan Xiaoyi recognized the other party's realm and strength.

He understood that this late-night Chang Street assassination had fallen into a stalemate. He used the stone beast to protect himself, but it also blocked himself. If this stalemate continued, he was afraid that it would be dawn, and both sides would still be unable to move.

However, the other party could withdraw, but Yan Xiaoyi could not move. He knew that he had fallen into a disadvantageous position.

A long time passed again, and Yan Xiaoyi still stood steadily at a corner of the street, as immovable as a statue, longbow in hand, arrow on the string, steady as silk, with a very strange sense of beauty.

……

……

Suddenly at this moment, a burst of coughing came from Chang Street, which was filled with white mist.

Accompanied by this strange coughing, a faint light also reflected into the mist. The light gradually brightened, approaching the corner of the street. As it got closer, it was discovered that it was two lanterns.

The lanterns were held in the hands of two young eunuchs, whose faces were frozen somewhat pale.

Behind the young eunuchs was a small palanquin carried by four servants, and the coughing was constantly coming from that small palanquin.

The palanquin stopped beside Yan Xiaoyi, the curtain of the palanquin was slightly lifted, revealing an old and tired face.

This face belonged to Eunuch Hong.