Tian Ying races toward Breeze Post, riding through night and day without rest. Three horses died beneath him, …
Tian Ying races toward Breeze Post, riding through night and day without rest.
Three horses died beneath him, driven to exhaustion by his relentless pursuit. He never closes his eyes. All this is for a banquet.
A banquet at Qingfeng Post, one he himself has set into motion.
That spring in Jiangnan, the rain never ceases. It falls like a curtain drawn over the land, veiling all sound and sight, masking every step he leaves.
It is the destined time for the assassin.
Drenched and muddied, Tian Ying still feels joy. He has long since cast aside his own life.
Now, he lives for one purpose and will die a thousand times if it means fulfilling it.
His blade is honed to a whisper, longing to taste flesh and bone.
The banquet has begun.
At last, the moment arrives.
Inside, a drunken messenger wheezes and staggers. Outside, Tian Ying stands with a dagger in hand.
Life and death, victory and defeat, in that moment, are as brittle as the creaking wooden door.
He pushes it open. The messenger's eyes widen in panic.
The knife falls. Silence follows.
He vanishes as quietly as he comes.
Only one sentence is remembered in history:
"At Breeze Post, during a banquet hosted by the Later Tang Government to honor the Khitan envoy, the envoy, in a drunken stupor, left to change his clothes and was gone for a long time. When he was finally found, he had been decapitated."