Chapter 46: Bloodbath on the Long Street

"Guggle, guggle, guggle..." The imperial messenger glared with wide, innocent eyes at the feathered arrow piercing deep into her ribs, her face a mask of utter disbelief.

More cold glints came flying through the air, striking her body and the carriage like a torrential rain lashing at banana leaves.

Her vitality drained rapidly along with the gushing blood. The female official dropped her silver command arrow, stretched out her hands, and clutched desperately at the air, but caught nothing. Her body tumbled from the horse's back like a sack of dry straw, her eyes wide with lingering resentment in death.

"Murder! There's been a murder—" The rest of the women, dressed in martial attire and usually accustomed to lording it over others, had never witnessed such a bloody scene in their lives. Seeing their companion fall from her horse and die, they finally snapped back to their senses, screaming as they scattered in all directions.

By contrast, the ordinary commoners waiting in line to enter the city possessed far more experience than the "female warriors." Realizing someone was carrying out an assassination right in the middle of the street, they decisively abandoned their carrying poles, carts, and livestock of all sizes, hugging their heads and rolling to the roadside just in time to avoid becoming collateral damage. They left the wide, straight imperial highway entirely empty, turning it into a battlefield exclusively for the assassins and their target.

"Junior brother, dodge behind the carriage! Don't fight them head-on! Zhang Gui, jump off the cart! The young Duke's guard of honor is right behind us!" Zhang Qian's voice finally rang out, hoarse and thin.

Though he had been battered by reality countless times since transmigrating to the Great Tang, and had constantly reminded himself that Chang'an was far from a safe place before Li Longji ascended the throne, the favorable security environment of the twenty-first century had conditioned him so deeply that it still took a tremendous amount of effort and a considerable length of time to force himself to accept the bloody reality right before his eyes.

Someone was assassinating a fifth-rank imperial official in broad daylight on the public street.

And that unfortunate fifth-rank official was none other than himself—Zhang Qian, who had been promoted to Vice Minister of the Directorate of Armaments just a few days ago!

Good heavens, this was no Great Tang; even ancient Rome was nowhere near this barbaric!

Fortunately, the carriage he rode in was sturdy enough, and the female messenger had been arrogant enough, to keep him from being riddled with arrows and throwing daggers before he could recover his wits. Once he regained his composure, his very first reaction was to order Guo Nu and Ren Cong to find a way to protect themselves.

Before his voice even faded, an angry roar echoed from outside the carriage: "Exterminate the demons and defend the Dao! All bystanders, get out of the way!"

"Exterminate the demons and defend the Dao!"

"Execute only the chief culprit! The rest shall be spared!"

...

Accompanied by these roars, five sallow-faced, fierce-looking wicked monks charged out from behind the weeping willows along the roadside, the cold light gleaming off their monk's staves and scimitar blades.

More than a dozen younger monks, some drawing horn bows while others brandished flying daggers, continued to assault the carriage. In the blink of an eye, the draft horses pulling the vehicle were riddled with wounds, reduced to a bloody mess.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa..." The poor draft horse let out a pitiful whimper and collapsed to its knees, preferring to shatter its own tendons and bones rather than drag down its master. Zhang Gui, the carriage driver who had been paralyzed with fright, was hurled more than a fathom away by the momentum, crashing onto the imperial highway with his fate unknown.

Inside the carriage, Zhang Qian was also thrust forward by the momentum, his head slamming heavily against the roof as a constellation of golden stars exploded before his eyes. Only thanks to his good physical condition did he manage to avoid being knocked unconscious on the spot.

Meanwhile, Guo Nu, Ren Cong, and the retainers under their command tried desperately to spur their horses and counterattack, but lacking bows and arrows, they were suppressed miserably by the monks using horn bows and throwing daggers. In the span of a few breaths, more than half of them had been knocked from their mounts.

"Die, fiend!" Too fast to cover with thought, the leading monk had already rushed close to the carriage, raising his monk's staff high and smashing it down with all his might.

"Bang!" A scabbard suddenly flew through the air, striking the man viciously in the chest. The wicked monk's movement was thrown off; he staggered, and his staff missed the carriage, slamming into the ground at the edge with dirt flying everywhere.

"Brother Yongzhao, get out of the carriage quickly!" Wang Zhihuan shouted, riding past the rear of the carriage. Using the speed of his warhorse to dodge the arrows and throwing daggers shot by the monks, he hurled anything he could lay his hands on one after another toward the fierce monks nearest the carriage, struggling to create an escape route for Zhang Qian.

"Bald donkey, die!" Wang Han possessed formidable martial arts skills and had experienced actual combat, making him rich in experience. He circled his horse around, flanking the young monks armed with bows and daggers, forcing two of the charging wicked monks to turn back and intercept him to protect their comrades.

However, the two of them had ultimately rushed into battle unprepared and could do little more to help Zhang Qian. Meanwhile, the other two sallow-faced wicked monks broke through the retainers' defense and successively raised their glittering scimitars high. "Scoundrel, die—"

"Clang!" "Clang!" In the nick of time, Zhang Qian raised the copper pipe filled with gunpowder, blocking the successive strikes of the scimitar. Having no time to search for a fire source, and enduring the splitting pain in his head, he swung the heavy metal rod horizontally. "Clang-clang-clang—"

The bronze pipe lacked the tensile strength of fine steel, but its weight far exceeded it. Wielded by Zhang Qian with both hands, it carried immense momentum, instantly sending one scimitar flying backward with a resounding crash.

"Ah!" The disarmed wicked monk let out a short cry and rapidly retreated. Another monk sneered, twisted his blade, and slashed viciously toward Zhang Qian's lower abdomen.

"Clang!" Another crisp sound rang out, scattering a shower of sparks. It was Zhang Qian who had thrust the bronze pipe vertically, blocking the wicked monk's fatal blow.

Swish, swish, swish! Three feathered arrows zipped past him, throwing him into a flurry of frantic defense.

Before he could gather strength in his arms again, the wicked monk whose previous staff strike had missed roared and leaped into the air. The massive staff whistled through the wind, crashing down toward the crown of his head.

"Watch out—!" Wang Zhihuan, having run out of objects to throw, shouted a warning and instinctively closed his eyes.

"Boom!" The terrifying sound of the carriage splintering made one's scalp tingle, immediately followed by a shrill, miserable scream: "Ah—!"

Wang Zhihuan's eyes flew open involuntarily, looking toward the source of the sound.

The tragic scene he had anticipated did not happen. Zhang Qian was clutching the bronze pipe, having leaped half a fathom away. Meanwhile, the wicked monk who had been so certain of victory had dropped his staff, clutching his own knee with one hand as he sat among the wreckage of the carriage, howling in excruciating agony.

Further away, a golden melon-shaped mace rolled back and forth across the ground, clattering noisily.

"Vice Minister, a definitive blow!" Wang Maozhong, who had thrown his mace at the critical moment to shatter the wicked monk's kneecap, switched to a horizontal saber and lunged at the monk still wielding a scimitar, preventing him from taking advantage of the situation to attack Zhang Qian, while shouting out a reminder.

Zhang Qian, who had been holding the bronze pipe without knowing how to strike next, instantly lit up with realization. Risking the danger of being hit by arrows and throwing daggers, he lunged back to the side of the carriage wreckage, raised the bronze pipe high, and smashed it down with all his might. With a sickening *thud*, he crushed the head of the knee-injured wicked monk into a bloody pulp!