Situ Jin and the other imperial guards stood nearby, listening to the conversation through the pattering rain. They shuddered.
Several maids walked up the steps with bowed heads, carrying oilcloth-covered bowls of ginseng soup. Situ Jin glanced over and noticed one maid who looked unfamiliar.
Frowning, he stepped forward and stopped her. “Which palace are you from? I’ve never seen you before.”
The maid’s voice was as quiet as the buzz of a mosquito. “I’m new.”
Several more imperial guards approached, asking, “What’s wrong?”
Situ Jin stared at the maid for a moment, then lifted the oilcloth. On the tray beneath it, a dagger lay next to the soup bowl. Everyone froze, shocked. In an instant, the maid suddenly hurled the tray at Situ Jin, who turned his head to dodge it. He quickly followed up with a kick to the maid’s stomach. She let out a grunt, then flipped backward and vanished into the rain, as if she were a swallow.
“Assassin! There’s an assassin!” the guards shouted.
The woman landed and knelt on one knee in the rain. Her hair ornaments scattered to the ground, and a waterfall of black hair tumbled free. She tore her skirt to reveal long, slender legs; the lanterns’ light spilled over them, imparting them with the warm glow of fine jade. A black dagger was strapped to the outside of the woman’s thigh. She slowly drew the blade, its cold gleam slicing through Situ Jin’s vision.
The imperial guards drew their sabers and encircled the assassin. She remained motionless as rainwater streamed down her temples and jaw.
“Surrender! You can’t escape!” someone roared.
The woman laughed darkly. Her makeup was smeared, her smile eerie and sinister. “Escape? Who said I’d do that? The Garuda of Qiye Garden is here to send Imperial Noble Consort Ma on her final journey!”
As she finished speaking, countless black shadows emerged from the flowers and trees, wielding pale, gleaming longswords. They clashed with the imperial guards, breaking through their formation at once. The young eunuch screamed in terror, fleeing on all fours into Chenqian Palace.
At the center of the chaos, the woman shot forward like an arrow, her body like a blade, the light on her saber as cold as the moon. Situ Jin drew his sword and stepped forward, blocking a fatal strike aimed at his companion. Their blades scraped as Situ Jin came face-to-face with the assassin. He could feel her icy gaze and her viperlike, hissing breath.
The woman’s saber was terribly quick. One swing followed another in a relentless flurry of slashes and thrusts that flowed into another overhead strike. Her attacks came on like a storm, relentless and overwhelming; Situ Jin barely kept up. Time and time again, she forced him into treacherous predicaments. He could hear his own heartbeat pounding like a drum.
Too fast! Too fast! The rapid attacks had to be draining her strength. Situ Jin gritted his teeth and did his best to hold out, waiting for the moment the woman’s energy would wane so that he could counterattack.
After a few breaths, her movements faltered slightly. Situ Jin’s eyes lit up—this was his chance!
Cold raindrops the size of beans struck his hand and blade sharply, jolting his nerves. Situ Jin roared, slashing through the downpour, sparks flying as his blade clashed against hers. Behind her blade’s silver gleam, the woman’s eyes glinted as if in a sinister smile.
Situ Jin realized that something was wrong and tried to retreat—but it was too late. A short blade slid from the woman’s sleeve and slashed his arm deeply. Blood gushed out.
Looking up, Situ Jin saw that the woman had a wicked, arrogant smile on her lips as she held a long saber in her right hand and a dagger in her left.
The Garuda’s dual blades.
Situ Jin tightened his grip on his goose-quill saber. Blood ran down his arm and dripped from his fingers onto the ground.
No one had noticed a sinister figure emerging from the flowers like a monster crawling from its swamp. Raising his head, the figure fired a blow dart through the paper window. Candlelight from inside the palace seeped through the tiny hole the dart had pierced. All at once, Imperial Noble Consort Ma’s moans ceased. Then screams erupted from within the palace as maids began to run out in terror, some tripping and tumbling down the stairs.
“The consort is dead! The consort has been assassinated!”
The imperial guards were horrified.
As if on cue, the assassins retreated, scaling walls and scattering in every direction like a receding tide. At the same moment, reinforcements arrived, firing crossbow bolts at the fleeing figures. The Garuda’s attacks intensified. Each strike was thunderous, her blade unyielding, impenetrable. Situ Jin couldn’t hold his ground.
The semblance of a stalemate earlier had been an illusion. Situ Jin was no match for her at all—she’d merely been distracting him.
He’d now been struck several times, but the woman had stopped slashing away at him. Cutting down a few of those who blocked her path, she scaled a locust tree and reached the palace roof. The soldiers’ crossbow bolts flew after her, but she weaved and swerved like she had eyes on the back of her head. Every bolt missed, and in an instant, the woman was gone.
“Perform the caesarean! Perform a caesarean! We can still save the prince!”
A physician who’d tumbled down in the walkway suddenly came to his senses, scrambled to his feet, and dragged the elderly physician into the consort’s chamber. When they lifted the curtain, they saw Imperial Noble Consort Ma’s lifeless body on a blood-soaked bed. A thin blow dart was lodged in her belly. Black veins spread like crawling insects from the site of the dart, covering half her skin.