Rushing into Xing Muzheng’s tent, Xu Meng saw three assassins besieging him alone. Xing Muzheng hadn’t even had time to don armor, only grasping a sword and dodging left and right. He looked indeed weakened by illness. Xu Meng thought, If I save him now, I’ll earn a debt of gratitude. With that, he swung his great saber and plunged into the fray.
Li Qingquan and Xu Meng’s trusted adjutant, He Tan, were stuck at the entrance, unable to break through, so they guarded the doorway instead. Inside, three assassins tangled with the two men. Xing Muzheng fought mainly defensively, while Xu Meng pressed to kill, but none of the assassins were easy foes. Xu Meng narrowly avoided hidden weapons, fell back two steps, and stood back-to-back with Xing Muzheng.
“Brother Xing, are you all right?”
Xing Muzheng coughed twice. “I’m fine.”
Xu Meng knocked aside one attacker. “Good. Rest a while—leave these men to me!”
“Very… well.” Xing Muzheng broke into a harsh coughing fit. Just then, one assassin twisted his wrist, leapt up, and slashed straight at Xing Muzheng. Xing Muzheng staggered back. Xu Meng, head hot with impulse, rushed to intercept. He raised his blade—then his whole body went numb. The assassin’s hooked knife drove straight into his heart and lungs.
Xu Meng’s eyes flew wide. Blood spurted from his mouth. In disbelief he turned his head. His face was splattered with hot blood; before his eyes was only gore—his own flesh torn out by the assassin’s blade.
“Xing… Mu… Zheng!” Xu Meng toppled straight to the ground, eyes round and glaring, dead but unclosing.
“General!” His adjutant He Tan was also in the tent. He turned and saw his general collapse stiffly. He cried out, eyes reddening, and charged. One assassin spun, ready to cut him down—but before the blade could fall, Xing Muzheng stepped forward, flicked the knife aside, and barked: “Quick, carry General Xu to a physician!”
He Tan had no time to think. He slung Xu Meng onto his back, while Li Qingquan cleared the way, letting him escape the tent.
Though they had slain Xie’s commander-in-chief, the assassins felt no joy. Instead, a chill of wrongness struck them. But there was no time to ponder—their mission’s true target still lived before them. Xing Muzheng must die, or they could not return.
“How many outside?”
“Fewer than fifty,” Li Qingquan darted to Xing Muzheng’s front. “My lord, shall I summon them in?”
Summon who? The three assassins exchanged wary glances.
“Dozens of killers are no real threat.” Xing Muzheng signaled with his eyes. Li Qingquan understood. He tore open the tent, shielding Xing Muzheng as they went out. One assassin lunged in pursuit. The other two barely saw what happened—only a blur of flashing steel—and in the next moment, their companion lay dead at Xing Muzheng’s feet.
Li Qingquan shouted: “Men, protect Lord Xing!”
The five hundred soldiers Xing Muzheng brought this time were all elite troops carefully chosen by Xu Meng. They were already stationed around his tent, and the moment they heard the commotion, they rushed over and formed a protective ring around him. Li Qingquan and another officer stood by his side. Xing Muzheng thrust his sword into the ground—it looked as though he were using it as a crutch, yet in truth he stood firm like an ancient pine.
An assassination relies on speed, precision, and surprise. If the first strike fails, it is hard to succeed again. Moreover, this was still within Xie’s own territory; Meng Rang dared not send too many disguised men to infiltrate, so he had dispatched only thirty-six. These thirty-six had sworn a death oath—if they failed to kill, they would not return alive. Seeing Xing Muzheng so heavily guarded, they could only throw in every ounce of strength, charging ahead in desperation, going to their deaths with grim resolve.
When the last assassin finally fell, Xing Muzheng swayed. Li Qingquan rushed to support him, calling out: “My lord!”
Xing Muzheng waved his hand. “Don’t mind me—go check on General Xu!”
By the time Li Qingquan helped him outside the physicians’ tent, they could already hear He Tan’s weeping.
Xu Meng was dead, just as Xing Muzheng had foreseen.
Originally, Xing Muzheng hadn’t wanted him to die so early. It would have been more fitting for him to fall openly on the battlefield. But alas, Xu Meng had already been stripped of favor by Emperor Yongtai. As a commander he was timid, suspicious, hesitant—under his lead, more soldiers would only die in vain. And so, Xing Muzheng had devised this plan. He knew that once word leaked, Meng Rang would never let the opportunity slip. Given Meng Rang’s nature, he was bound to send assassins. Xing Muzheng had simply used the enemy’s own blade to rid himself of Xu Meng.
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