Broken Jade - Chapter 113

Chapter 113

It had been a long time since Sheng Zhaoning had received an order like this.

Aside from the time Wei Chengjun had sent her to kill someone in Xuzhou, he had rarely even exchanged letters with her, lest her identity be exposed.

Hearing such words again felt strangely unfamiliar to Sheng Zhaoning.

Even though, given who she was, this should have been as ordinary as eating a meal.

Yet for some inexplicable reason, Sheng Zhaoning resisted.

“Why does it have to be me?” she asked.

Both he and Shadow Seven were in the Capital now.

Even if someone had to be killed, given Wei Chengjun’s cautious nature, he would never risk exposing her after going to such lengths to send her to the Capital in the first place.

Han Xu merely said, “It’s time you remembered who you are.”

After everything that had happened since she entered the Capital, even Han Xu could tell that Sheng Zhaoning’s loyalties had begun to waver.

No one had ever believed she would betray them.

In the dungeons of Liangzhou, Sheng Zhaoning had endured every manner of torture without divulging a single name.

That was why Wei Chengjun had trusted her enough to send her to the Capital.

But now, she had defied Wei Yi time and again and had plainly fallen in love with Wei Heng.

The Wei Clan could not tolerate such an outcome.

Han Xu sat down inside the carriage and coldly watched Sheng Zhaoning struggle with her inner conflict.

On one side was the debt of gratitude binding her. On the other was the rebellion of her own heart.

She did not want to take up the blade again and become the fiendish butcher she had once been.

A tool… that knew nothing but killing.

“What if I refuse?” Sheng Zhaoning asked in a low voice.

Han Xu’s face remained expressionless, his gaze cold and utterly still.

He gave her only one answer.

“Dai Rong is still in Liangzhou.”

In an instant, the blood in Sheng Zhaoning’s veins turned cold.

A vicious glint flashed through her eyes. She snapped her head up, glaring at him with such fury that the corners of her eyes nearly split.

“You’re threatening me!”

Han Xu glanced at her coldly. “I’m reminding you.”

Reminding her of the past she could never erase.

As long as Sheng Zhaoning remained alive, she would forever be the spy Prince Zhenbei had planted in the Capital. That was a fact she could never change.

Even if she truly intended to betray them, the Zhenbei Prince’s Mansion had countless ways to force her into submission.

Sheng Zhaoning had never been a proper Shadow Guard.

She was powerful and ruthless, yet she had been cursed with a heart capable of love.

For an assassin, that was both a weakness and a shackle.

Either way, it was no blessing.

Bloodred slowly crept into Sheng Zhaoning’s eyes.

Dai Rong’s face gradually came into focus in her mind.

She remembered that before leaving Liangzhou, she had not even been given the chance to see her one last time…

At last, Sheng Zhaoning closed her eyes in near despair.

“Who?”

Who did Wei Chengjun want her to kill?

She did not understand. She had already begun clawing her way out of the mire, so why could everything in Liangzhou still drag her back so effortlessly?

Again and again, it pulled her down into the abyss.

Han Xu did not give her a name. He only said, “Tomorrow night, atop Mingyue Pavilion. An apricot blossom will be the signal. All you need to do is take the bow and shoot the target. Ask no questions.”

To prevent information from leaking, the targets of many missions were only revealed at the last possible moment.

Sheng Zhaoning asked nothing more.

Bathed in moonlight, the carriage traveled down the road back to the city as a light breeze stirred the air.

Sitting inside, she lifted the curtain and gazed at the Capital City’s dazzling maze of lights. Her eyes were like a dry well, utterly devoid of life.

Han Xu escorted her back to the residence.

Sheng Zhaoning had not killed anyone in a long time. Her preferred weapons were blades, but she had not brought them into the Capital. Instead, she had buried them in Xuzhou.

She had no other weapons on hand.

When the time came, Han Xu would give her a bow.

Tomorrow was the Shangyuan Festival. The streets would be packed, and the curfew would be lifted.

Mingyue Pavilion stood in a bustling district, so the crowds there would only be thicker.

She did not know why Wei Chengjun had chosen that moment to strike. Whether the attempt succeeded or failed, it was bound to cause chaos.

She could not fathom Wei Chengjun’s intentions. She could not understand them, nor did she want to think about them anymore.

Gazing through the corner of the window at the full moon above the eaves, Sheng Zhaoning’s breathing grew ragged.

She had already promised Wei Heng that they would meet at Queqiao during the Shangyuan Festival.

Sheng Zhaoning would not break her promise. She would go to him.

But he could never know that when she did, she would be a vicious, blood-soaked ghost, hideous, twisted, and utterly unrecognizable.

…

The next day.

The Shangyuan Festival had arrived, and the lanterns were just being lit.

Lights lined both sides of the streets, and colorful lanterns hung throughout the Capital. Music drifted from afar as crowds thronged the roads. Gifted young men and beautiful women strolled arm in arm, lost in the sweetness of romance, while countless river lanterns floated upon the water. The entire city overflowed with splendor and revelry, wealth and elegance.

Sheng Zhaoning walked amid the crowd, dressed in black brocade. She neither stood out nor drew the slightest attention.

Weaving through the chaotic throng, she moved alone through the clamor toward Mingyue Pavilion.

Han Xu was waiting in the shadows, holding a long wooden case.

The corner by the wall was deserted, its snow still unmelted. It stood in stark contrast to the bustling crowds nearby.

“Remember who you are,” Han Xu told her.

Inside the wooden case were a black iron bow and arrows. Cold and heavy, they passed into her hands.

Holding the case, Sheng Zhaoning felt a mocking smile rise within her.

Shadow Seven had said the same thing to her.

It seemed everyone was afraid she might forget. Again and again, they tirelessly reminded her.

They would not let her forget even if she wanted to.

A cold, ruthless light entered Sheng Zhaoning’s eyes. She took out the bow and arrows, glanced up at the roof above the sixth floor of Mingyue Pavilion, then leaped into the air.

A dark silhouette melted into the night, bounding upward without a sound.

Clear silver moonlight spilled across her shoulders like a veil of frost.

The restless crowd churned beneath her feet, while all the splendor and excitement remained beyond her reach.

Sheng Zhaoning stood at the highest point, the bow heavy in her hand. Everything in the distance was perfectly clear to her eyes.

Her gaze swept slowly across the scene as she searched for her assassination target.

The apricot blossom was the signal. The archer would make the kill.

Someone dressed in clothing bearing a totem would serve as the guide, carrying a designated object and handing it to the person marked for death.

The archer would not know whom they were meant to kill until the final moment.

Sheng Zhaoning searched the crowd for the totem belonging exclusively to the Wei Clan. Amid the blazing lanterns and restless masses, her blade-sharp gaze swept over every face.

At last, she spotted a small figure beside the bridge.

It was a little girl of seven or eight, holding a woven wooden basket.

The basket was filled with velvet-flower hairpins in every shape and color, each one exquisitely lifelike.

The Wei Clan had trained many deathsworn assassins from childhood. Unlike the Shadow Guard, they had not undergone life-or-death trials, but they were still exceedingly dangerous.

The little girl was fair and soft, as harmless as a ball of glutinous rice. Yet Sheng Zhaoning immediately recognized the inconspicuous totem on her back, perfectly blended into the pattern of her robes.

It was the mark of the Wei Clan.

She watched countless people pass by the little girl.

Lotus blossoms, orchids, plum blossoms, peach blossoms…

One velvet flower after another was sold. Sheng Zhaoning waited in silence.

Then the pinkish-white apricot blossom, seemingly no different from the rest, was slowly taken from the basket.

There.

Sheng Zhaoning’s gaze remained calm as she slowly raised the bow and nocked an arrow.

She pulled with all her strength, drawing the bowstring taut.

Her eyes stayed fixed on the apricot blossom as one person after another brushed past the little girl.

Until a tall, slender figure in moon-white robes stopped before her.

The apricot blossom was placed unerringly in his hand.

Sheng Zhaoning’s eyes turned cold. Holding the bowstring taut, she aimed the arrowhead straight at him.

A gentle breeze passed, stirring the hem of his robe.

Beneath the moon, her fingertips pinched the arrow’s fletching, then slowly began to release…

On the bridge, the man holding the apricot blossom slowly turned around.

Bit by bit, his features came into view.

Sheng Zhaoning’s pupils contracted sharply.

That refined, gentle face gradually became clear. It was the face that had haunted her thoughts and heart countless times.

It was her…

Wei Heng.