Using his fingers to grip the gaps in the temple's overhanging eaves, Fan Xian's body lightly swung upward. His toes stepped on the wooden railing that protruded a few inches outward. Suddenly, he leaped upwards, his movements a perfect combination of superb skills and clever tricks. In the blink of an eye, he had already climbed to the highest floor of the Hanging Temple.
The situation on the mountain clearing below had stabilized. The fire was extinguished, and those dignitaries of Qing, hardened by years of warfare, quickly regained their composure after a brief moment of chaos. Under the arrangement of several elders, they set up another layer of defense in addition to the guards, determined to ensure the safety of the Hanging Temple. At this moment, everyone anxiously looked up and just saw Fan Xian's figure like a flash of lightning streaking to the top floor. No one had imagined that Supervisor Fan's skills were so formidable, and they couldn't help but exclaim in unison.
Fan Xian firmly gripped the eave corner below the top floor with his right hand. His left leg was slightly bent, and his left hand rested on the handle of the black dagger hidden in his boot, swaying slightly in the mountain wind. Inside the top floor was silent, but he dared not rashly barge in. He shouted upwards, "Your subject, Fan Xian."
Someone inside the top floor seemed to say something. Fan Xian squinted at the top floor, enveloped by the ventilated window tower. Numerous cold glints gradually subsided, and he finally felt relieved. Someone inside said, "Come in."
With a creak, the wooden window was pushed open.
Fan Xian dared not delay. The muscles in his waist and abdomen tensed, and his whole person bounced up, lightly and silently infiltrating the top floor of the temple with the mountain wind, fearing to startle the imperial presence. As his feet landed on the ground, his eyes caught the wary guards slowly retreating a step. He knew that if he had barged in without announcing himself, he would have been greeted by countless cold blades coming at his face.
His gaze swept across the room. Seeing that the assassination he had anticipated had not occurred, he breathed a slight sigh of relief. Then he saw the Empress Dowager's figure flash past at the turning corridor. Wan'er, whom he was most concerned about, was supporting the old lady, while the mysterious Hong Gonggong was walking at the rear, his hands in his sleeves and his body hunched over.
A fire had broken out below, and the Empress Dowager and the palace women had already retreated.
"Why have you come?"
A voice, majestic yet calm, rang out. Fan Xian was stunned for a moment before he realized what was happening. He turned around and bowed to the middle-aged man beside the railing on his left, saying calmly, "A fire broke out below, likely man-made. Your subject is concerned for Your Majesty's safety."
The Emperor of Qing, today, was wearing a bright yellow robe, but the style was noticeably more casual. He stood with his hands behind his back, looking out beyond the railing. The terrain here was very high, and with a single glance, countless rivers and mountains were within sight. The chrysanthemums that filled the mountain exuded an air of solemnity. The Emperor did not seem too worried about his own safety, and his gaze was calmly fixed on this land that belonged to him. The corners of his lips slightly upturned, revealing a hint of mockery towards the officials below the temple, who were acting as if facing a great enemy.
At this moment, the Empress Dowager and the concubines had already left the room. On the third floor, they joined the guards who had come up to meet them and cautiously retreated downstairs. On the extremely drafty top floor of the Hanging Temple, besides the unusually calm Emperor, were also the three royal male offspring: the Crown Prince, the First Prince, and the Third Prince, a dozen or so palace guards with swords, and four or five attending eunuchs.
Fan Xian's gaze swept across the room, and he clearly saw the defensive strength within. A trace of worry flashed between his brows. The fire downstairs was obviously suspicious, but he had extinguished it quickly, preventing anyone from taking advantage of the chaos. However, those hidden assassins must still be in the temple. He just didn't know how, with Qing's such powerful strength, people could have sneaked in—but as Supervisor of the Imperial Censorate, he had considerable confidence in Qing's defensive capabilities. Even if there were assassins lurking, they could only be the kind of supreme masters who could shake the world with a single sword. Their numbers could not possibly exceed three.
The fact that Gong Dian was not in the room made Fan Xian's heart tighten. Hong Gonggong's escorting the Empress Dowager downstairs made Fan Xian feel even more of a headache. Could it be that those assassins started the fire just to lure the number one master of the palace downstairs?
At this moment, in the room, besides the guards with swords, the real master… seemed to be only himself. Fan Xian made a slightly arrogant assessment of the situation in the room. After all, in his heart, the First Prince's horsemanship might be good, but when truly facing this kind of sudden killing situation, the difference between him and an excellent assassin was too great.
Seeing the Emperor's expression, it seemed that he didn't take this matter to heart. Perhaps this was the calmness and dominance that a generation of monarchs had to display, but Fan Xian didn't want countless innocent people in Qing to die because this middle-aged man was occasionally injured. He frowned slightly and gave a look to the Crown Prince, who was trying to appear calm behind the Emperor.
The Crown Prince was slightly startled, immediately understood what Fan Xian was thinking, and bowed to the Emperor, saying, "Father, the cause of the fire is unknown. Please retreat temporarily."
Who knew that the Emperor would simply ignore the Eastern Palace Crown Prince's request. He slowly turned around, his gaunt face showing a faint self-mockery, and looked at Fan Xian, saying, "Was the fire extinguished?"
Fan Xian paused slightly and nodded, "It has been extinguished."
"Then why should we leave?" The Emperor's left hand lightly stroked the railing, and he said leisurely, "In my life, there have been very few times when I have retreated."
Fan Xian's expression was calm, but he had already begun to curse in his heart, thinking that you like to act cool and play exciting games, but he had no such interest. He said in a deep voice, "Although there is no unusual movement, this place is suspended on the peak, and it is most difficult to defend... Please Your Majesty, for the sake of the world, return to the palace immediately."
To persuade an Emperor with the world was the most effective method in previous palace dramas, but obviously, it was of no use to the Emperor of Qing. He turned around and said coldly, "Fan Xian, you are the Supervisor of the Imperial Censorate. If anyone dares to assassinate me… that is your dereliction of duty. Do you want me to suffer the punishment of not being able to appreciate the flowers because of your dereliction of duty?"
Fan Xian was bitter. He thought that he was only the Supervisor of the Imperial Censorate. Although the Sixth Bureau did manage this part of the business, this chrysanthemum viewing party today had not allowed the Censorate to intervene. How could he have predicted the enemy's actions? -- But he immediately thought that the Imperial Censorate's nationwide network of spies had not heard any news recently. The forces under heaven that dared to attack the Qing imperial family were nothing more than two or three families. Those two or three families had been quite quiet recently. Dongyi City, the most difficult to guess, had also remained calm. Si Gu Jian had always been the Imperial Censorate's key observation target, and it could be confirmed that he was still in Dongyi City.
Looking at the Emperor's peaceful expression, Fan Xian couldn't help but feel a bit uneasy. Could it be that this fire… was not the prelude to an assassination? Could it be that he was really too nervous?
Seeing Fan Xian fall into silence, the three princes in the room who were qualified to speak all thought that he had been scolded by His Majesty and was somewhat embarrassed. The Crown Prince coughed lightly, preparing to say something on Fan Xian's behalf, but suddenly he thought that Fan Xian had recently beaten the Second Prince so miserably, making him "feel very pleased." However, this minister's strength seemed to have become so terrifying that he could no longer control him. At this time, his father's suppression of the other party might have other deep considerations, so he stopped speaking and just cast a look of comfort at Fan Xian.
The First Prince, however, would not consider so much and said in a deep voice, "Father, Supervisor Fan's words are reasonable. Although in this world, I am afraid that there are no thieves who dare to assassinate Father, for the sake of safety, and to reassure the old officials downstairs, you should go downstairs first."
The Emperor seemed to appreciate the First Prince's attitude of saying what he thought, but he still didn't have a good look on his face towards Fan Xian, and said coldly, "Fan Xian, as the Supervisor of the Imperial Censorate, you are so flustered in the face of things. I am truly disappointed in you."
Fan Xian cursed a few more times in his heart, but his expression became even more humble, and he ridiculed himself with a smile, "Your Majesty's teachings are correct."
The Emperor looked at him with a slightly questioning gaze and suddenly said, "Are you somewhat unconvinced in your heart?"
"Yes." Fan Xian suddenly had a thought and replied directly in a deep voice, "Your subject believes that Your Majesty is connected to the world, and there are no small matters of safety, so you must be more careful. No matter how careful and cautious you are, it is not an exaggeration. The scenery of these yellow flowers reappears every year, but there is only one Emperor of Qing. Even if people say that your subject is alarmed and timid as a mouse, your subject must ask Your Majesty to go downstairs and return to the palace."
There was an awkward silence in the room. No one had expected Fan Xian to dare to publicly contradict the Holy One, and even dare to discuss the Holy One's life and death, and even directly refute the Emperor's previous reprimand!
…
…
"You have great courage..." For some reason, after hearing these words, the Emperor's expression finally relaxed a bit. He looked at Fan Xian and said, "If you were said to be timid as a mouse, I really don't know where to find such a big mouse in this world."
This was originally a joke, but except for the Emperor, everyone on the top floor was in a state of tension, and no one dared to laugh in response. Only the audacious Fan Xian smiled, but the smile was a bit bitter.
Suddenly, the Emperor's voice sank by three points, and even those eyes closed, letting the mountain wind outside the railing gently caress his middle-aged face, which was gradually showing wrinkles.
"In my life, I don't know how many assassinations I have encountered. How can you children know what the world was like in those days, how turbulent and stirring?" The Emperor said with a light smile, "Such a flawed situation, a fire that can't even burn properly, and you want to force me to leave? It's not that easy."
Fan Xian looked at this scene, despising the monarch of a country for playing petty bourgeoisie in the dark. However, half of his heart was on the surrounding environment. Gong Dian and Hong Gonggong were not here, the Tiger Guards were not here, all that was present were the guards and three... or four? Princes. Although the eunuchs who served the Emperor closely were loyal, and the relatives of their ancestors for three generations were under the control of the court, it was far from enough to rely on these people to protect the Emperor, especially since Hong Gonggong's departure with the Empress Dowager made Fan Xian very worried.
Suddenly, his heart was shocked, and he thought of a very subtle thing—if His Majesty were assassinated at this time, wouldn't he, as the Supervisor of the Imperial Censorate, bear the greatest responsibility? Why hadn't his father considered this point when he was downstairs?
Dai Gonggong said loudly, "In His Majesty's life, he has encountered 43 assassinations, and has never retreated a step."
After Fan Xian was stunned, he immediately thought of Wang Qinian, who was far away in Northern Qi, and cursed in his heart, thinking that behind every successful man, there was one or several excellent comedic partners.
The Emperor slowly opened his eyes, his eyes showing a powerful confidence in the calmness: "Northern Qi, Dongyi, Western Hu, Southern Yue, and those poor worms who were destroyed by me, who doesn't want to kill me with a sword, but these twenty years have passed, who has done it?" He smiled softly, "When assassination has become a habit, Fan Xian, you will probably understand why I don't take it to heart."
That's right, you're a skilled worker—Fan Xian cursed more dirty words in his belly today than on any other day, but in his position, he sought his government, and since he had become the Supervisor of the Imperial Censorate, he had to be responsible for the Emperor's safety. The most important thing was that he didn't want to carry the biggest black pot in the world, so he still insisted on persuading the Emperor to go downstairs and return to the palace, shamelessly and boldly.
The Emperor was finally successfully annoyed by his words and scolded angrily, "How could Fan Jian have taught you such a coward! How could Chen Pingping have taken a fancy to you!"
Fan Xian's face was full of smiles, and he continued to curse in his heart: You have the ability to teach him yourself, this should have been your business scope.
At this time, the situation had long been calm, and it was estimated that even the most powerful assassins could only take the opportunity to escape. Otherwise, when the Imperial Guards cast a net to search the mountain later, there would definitely be no good end. So the mood of the people in the room was slightly relaxed. Watching His Majesty, who had always been unsmiling, scolding Fan Xian, they couldn't help but feel a little funny. The Crown Prince was still shamelessly comforting Fan Xian with gentle eyes. The First Prince turned his head away with some unbearable feeling, but the youngest Third Prince was the happiest with a face full of smiles, perhaps he felt very relieved to watch this scene in his heart.
I don't know why His Majesty was so angry today, scolding Supervisor Fan from head to toe, as if he were scolding his own son. After all, Fan Xian is now a famous person, an important minister in the court. In the Qing Dynasty court, which values culture, such a thing that greatly hurts the face of a minister is still extremely rare.
Fan Xian listened with a bitter smile, but he heard another meaning. I am afraid that this Majesty also suspected the same thing as himself, so he was particularly angry—if this play was secretly arranged by the old cripple or his father, he could only praise them for being bold, ruthless, shameless and weak, and actually played such a trick of bravely saving the Holy One for the Holy One to see—the Emperor was not a fool, at least his IQ would not be lower than his own, how could he not see it, but it seemed that the Emperor believed that Fan Xian was also kept in the dark.
He sighed in his heart, thinking that there would probably be no serious assassins, just a farce.
But the problem was that Chen Pingping was not a kindergarten student, Fan Jian was not a little girl who cried at the iron gate on the first day of school, and His Majesty would not believe that his two most trusted subordinates would do such absurd things to win favor for Fan Xian—the reason why the Emperor was angry was actually not much related to Fan Xian.
…
…
The Emperor finally stopped talking, turned around and heavily slapped the railing, startling everyone in the room. Fan Xian was a master at figuring out people's minds, so he nudged Dai Gonggong beside him, making a mouth shape, indicating that his Majesty was thirsty from scolding.
Dai Gonggong had just been transferred to the Hall of Supreme Harmony not long ago, and he was being careful. Seeing Supervisor Fan's reminder, he couldn't help but feel happy, so he prepared to bring tea to serve.
"Change it to wine." The Emperor didn't turn around, but he knew what Fan Xian was doing behind him. He looked at the scenery outside the railing, and a hint of jest finally surged in his eyes that looked at the floating clouds in the sky. "Chanting of Autumn Colors, a thousand poems, pouring a cup of wine to the cold fragrance, since we are on the high floor to admire the distant chrysanthemums, how can we not drink wine to suit the scene?"
The chrysanthemum viewing party, which is held once every three years, is equipped with chrysanthemum wine, which has already been prepared next to it. However, the Hanging Temple had a strange small fire, which made everyone uneasy, and they forgot to bring it out. At this time, listening to His Majesty's decree, a handsome little eunuch who was in charge of this job quickly carried the wine table towards the railing, his toes landed silently, and he was extremely cautious and careful.
Listening to that poem, Fan Xian's heart was slightly shocked. This was a chrysanthemum poem by Jia Baoyu in the 38th chapter of *The Story of the Stone*. The Emperor recited it at this time, naturally to show him that he actually knew everything. However, this matter could not be concealed from the world after all, and Fan Xian had been mentally prepared for it.
"This article in *The Story of the Stone* is all about the love between men and women, and it is inevitable that it will fall into the lower class, but the text is still acceptable... But these poems are a bit unpresentable."
The three princes and their entourage in the room did not understand why His Majesty suddenly talked about the way of literature at this time, and were slightly stunned. Fan Xian knew that he could no longer retreat, and said with a bitter smile, bowing, "Your subject's playful work, I didn't expect to be able to enter Your Majesty's eyes, it is really fortunate."
"Oh? I originally thought... you were afraid that people would know that this book was written in your name, so you deliberately put some despicable effort on the poems, the more childish the better."
Fan Xian sighed and did not know how to answer. At this time, everyone in the field finally knew that *The Story of the Stone*, which had been secretly circulating among the people and in the palace, turned out to be written by the Little Fan. In addition to the shock, they had a sense of course. This book has always been published by Danbo Bookstore, and the writing is clear and beautiful. If it was not written by the Little Fan, who is famous all over the world, I really don't know where to find such a person in the world.
The Emperor took the wine glass, sniffed the slightly strong fragrance in the glass, took a sip lightly, smiled faintly, and ignored the embarrassed Fan Xian and his surprised sons.
There were two glasses of wine on the plate, originally prepared for His Majesty and the Empress Dowager, one for each. At this time, the Emperor took a glass and drank it himself, and there was one glass left. At this time, the Empress Dowager had already gone downstairs, so he didn't know how to distribute it. He looked at the Crown Prince, then at the First Prince, frowned and then relaxed. He subconsciously pointed his finger at Fan Xian, but suddenly found something wrong, and made an extremely stiff turn in the middle, pointing to the Third Prince who was hiding in the corner, smiling and surprised.
The Third Prince was still young and said with a bitter face, "Father, the child doesn't like to drink wine." Only a little guy could say such words without being judged guilty of disobeying the imperial decree.
The Emperor's face sank and said coldly, "You dare to do things that are more intense than wine, are you still afraid of this glass of wine?"
The Third Prince's face was bitter, and he was almost scared to cry by this icy aura. He quickly thanked him, and walked to the railing with his small feet, stretched out his small arms to take the wine glass, and sent it to his mouth.
…
…
With a crisp sound of "Dang," the wine glass in the Third Prince's hand fell to the ground and rolled away. He stared dumbfounded at the cold light that was coming at him, and seemed unable to understand why, just drinking a glass of wine, this guard wanted to chop him to death?
After all, he was a prince, who had grown up in extremely complex and extremely dangerous circumstances since he was a child. The little guy immediately reacted—someone was assassinating!
Behind him was His Majesty the Emperor. If he ran away with his head in his arms, then this snow-like knife would directly chop at His Majesty. Of course, the Third Prince did not have the snowless body skills of the Grand Master Kuye, nor did he have the strong hands of Ye Liuyun, who was as strong as a coffin rack. Even if he stood in front of the Emperor no matter how strong he was, it was estimated that this shocking knife would directly split him in half, and take the Emperor's head along with it.
It was the same whether he dodged or not, so the Third Prince chose the most correct thing to do. He stood firmly in place, staring at the assassin's blurred face in the light of the knife, his legs shaking, his crotch wet, and he screamed at the top of his voice!
Ah!
The sharp scream resounded before the top floor. Everyone in the room had already discovered the fact of the assassination, because no one had ever thought that there would be assassins among the Qing Dynasty's Imperial Palace Guards. So when that knife was slashing towards His Majesty, who was holding a small wine glass by the railing, with a shocking momentum, no one could react, so that the knife broke through the guards' defensive circle.
Only Fan Xian was the exception. He exhaled, turned his wrist, and punched out. This assassin was hidden too deeply, shot too suddenly, and the knife's edge was too strong, so that he did not dare to retain the slightest bit. The snow mountain at the waist was suddenly bright, and the melted true energy was like a big river flowing along his right arm to his fist, and then across a few steps of air, slammed into the knife light.
This punch was quite simple. The fist wind had already split the air, pushing a slight buzzing sound, like a muffled thunder, exploded in the light of the knife, smashing the knife light like snow into powder!
Of course, things were not that simple.
Fan Xian felt a tightness in his chest and was extremely shocked to find that the person using the knife was also a ninth-grade master. But yes, the assassins who dared to assassinate the monarch with the greatest power in the world, without the skills of the ninth grade, how could they have the face to take action. After the fist wind first sounded, his man had already rushed to the Third Prince's side, his left hand turned over, and the black dagger came out, extremely insidious, and stabbed at the assassin's lower abdomen.
The assassin's knife was only half broken, but the knife's momentum became more and more tragic, and the speed was faster, as if he wanted to fight for his life. The guards finally woke up, shouting and coming over here, sandwiching Fan Xian before and after. Even if this assassin was a ninth-grade strongman, there was no way to do anything.
But at this time, the cloud in the sky in front of the Hanging Temple drifted away, revealing the sun, the scorching sun.
The light flashed, and a bleak white color rippled between the buildings, and then an assassin in white clothes with a plain ancient sword appeared—no one knew how this assassin appeared on the top floor, nor did anyone find that he had already approached the Emperor in front of him by the disguise of sunlight.
With two hissing wind sounds, the two guards beside the Emperor reacted first, pulling His Majesty back, at the cost of breaking the throats of these two people, blood spitting out, and falling to the ground without even having time to pull out their swords.
A white man, holding an ancient sword, stabbed directly at the Emperor's face!
…
…
His Majesty the Emperor, who had previously vowed that he had never retreated in his life, was finally dragged back a few steps by the fearless personal guards in front of this sword that seemed to come from outside the sky.
At this time, the tip of the soul-stirring sword was actually still a foot away from him. But everyone seemed to feel that the sword tip had pierced the Emperor's throat.
Everyone knew that the Emperor of Qing would not practice martial arts, and several guards roared wildly and blocked in front of His Majesty. The incident happened suddenly, and everyone was worried about the safety of the Holy One, so these guards chose the most direct method, using human flesh to block the opponent's sword.
Countless blood splattered up, but the Emperor's eyes were still peaceful, staring at the white assassin who was going forward with his sword.
…
…
The strength of the guards was strong enough, but it took time to react. There was also Hong Gonggong under the Hanging Temple, and the only two ninth-grade powerhouses from the Ye and Qin families. At this time, as long as they could stop the white swordsman for a moment, they could save His Majesty's life.
But who would stop it? The guards had already done their part, they knew that an assassin had appeared among their colleagues, and they were afraid that it would be difficult for them to live—in order to leave a way out for their families, they had already taken out their skills to save their lives, and the matter of blocking the sword for His Majesty should be left to His Majesty's sons to do...
The series of attacks all happened in a very short period of time.
At that time, the wine glass that the Third Prince dropped in shock was still rolling on the ground, and the First Prince, who was full of shock, was preparing to rush in front of his father to block the murderous ancient sword for him, but he only had time to take two steps, and his heel had not yet touched the ground.
At this time, the black and slender dagger that Fan Xian delivered insidiously was still a few inches away from the assassin's lower abdomen, but he had already felt the shocking sword force behind him.
Blood was flying all over the sky, blooming like chrysanthemums all over the mountain. The corpses of the guards were flying in the air with their eyes closed in death. They did not understand until they died, how could the white swordsman be hiding above the Hanging Temple, which had obviously been checked.
Everything was displayed in front of Fan Xian's eyes as if in slow motion, very carefully and shockingly.
He could even see with his peripheral vision that the Crown Prince was rushing towards His Majesty with a sad face. That loyal and brave appearance was really moving, but unfortunately, the Crown Prince accidentally stepped on the wine glass that his younger brother had dropped, slipped, and was about to fall to the ground in a ridiculous posture.
Fate was destined, by chance, at this time, only Fan Xian, who was closest to His Majesty and reacted the fastest, could be this loyal and filial son... Fan Xian's hair stood on end on the back of his neck. The murderous intent on the sword behind him was purer and more rampant than the ninth-grade assassin in front of him. In a very short period of time, it aroused the fierce aura buried deep in his heart. He had the confidence to save His Majesty and the Third Prince at the same time in this instant, but... he would definitely be seriously injured by the white swordsman behind him.
——But he decided to gamble. Fan Xian, who was stingy, would not miss such a good opportunity. Fan Xian, who was competitive, would not miss such a strong enemy!
But at this time, what made Fan Xian a little bit cold was that the assassins' final trick was finally launched.
This time, the other party used the nail that had been buried in the Qing Dynasty court for ten years, and did not know how much it cost to invite the white swordsman, risking to damage his hard work of more than ten years in Qing Dynasty, luring away Hong Gonggong, and moving in a timely manner to create the current extremely wonderful situation—but, the ninth-grade assassin was not the killing move, and even the white swordsman with the tragic sword was not the killing move.
The real killing move came from behind the Qing Dynasty Emperor!
The handsome little eunuch who had presented the chrysanthemum wine earlier blocked in front of him just as the Emperor was forced back a few steps by the white swordsman's sword. He saw that he turned over the wine case, reached out and touched the corridor pillar, and like a magic trick, he conjured a gray dagger and stabbed it hard into the Emperor's back!
The dagger was hidden in the wooden pillar of the Hanging Temple, and the handle was painted in the same color as the wooden pillar. Over the years, no one has ever been able to find that there was a murder weapon hidden there. No one knows how long this dagger has been placed here, nor does anyone know how long the other party has been planning this assassination plan against the Qing Dynasty Emperor.
Just looking at this patience and meticulous arrangement, you know that the other party is determined to win—what is most needed to assassinate a monarch of a country is not strength, but determination and courage.
At this time, in front of the Qing Dynasty Emperor was an ancient sword with an amazing sword force, and behind him was an extremely old sword, but extremely slippery dagger. There was no chance to change at all!
Fan Xian knew that he was facing the most dangerous test since his rebirth, even more terrifying than the fight with Haitang on the meadow, but he had no time to sigh, and he had already made the choice that he thought was correct in his subconscious, and the black dagger shot out of his hand and stabbed at the other party's eyes.
He knew that he was not a god, and even if Uncle Wu Zhu or the four Grand Masters appeared in his position, it would be impossible to repel the assassin in front of him, protect the Third Prince's life, and then fight the white-clothed swordman with snow for another hit, and have enough time and strength to help His Majesty deal with the little eunuch behind him.
The little eunuch in the palace did not have any skills, but the extremely old short sword in his hand was the most deadly thing.
So he chose to save the Third Prince first, and then save His Majesty. Although this choice seemed rebellious in retrospect, in Fan Xian's eyes, the Third Prince was only eight years old and still a child.
To save people is naturally to save the young ones first.
…
…
The black dagger stabbed like a black snake between the eyebrows of the first assassin.
The other party planned this time in extremely detail, of course, they knew that Fan Xian's most terrifying method was this black, thin dagger, which was said to be an ominous thing that Old Monster Fei Jie personally consecrated. The ninth-grade assassin did not dare to neglect, and the half-cut straight knife flashed, and directly hit the dagger fiercely to the downstairs.
He wanted to see how the Supervisor Fan, who was known as a master of both literature and martial arts, could face his knife without a weapon.
Just as the dagger flew out of the railing, Fan Xian had already turned around quickly, exposing his back to the assassin, and in the process of turning around, with an extremely fast speed that no one could see clearly, he picked a pick in his hair, and gently waved it back with the momentum.
A thin embroidery needle, accurately pierced the outer edge of the assassin's little finger, only pierced in a trace, and it seemed impossible to bleed a drop of blood.
But the assassin groaned, and suddenly felt that his qi and blood were not smooth, and when he waved a knife, he cut off his little finger.
Looking up, Fan Xian was gone.
Fan Xian, like a ghost, had already come to the front of the invincible white-clothed swordsman, blocking between him and the Emperor. Following him, of course, were the three soul-snatching black crossbow arrows and several clumps of poison smoke that had already been unable to distinguish the effect, but mixed together, they must be very licentious and enough to rot the intestines and break the belly!
A large piece of yellow, blue, and white smoke spread out in the wooden building on the top floor of the Hanging Temple, which was really indescribable, just like the fireworks that can occasionally be seen in Kyoto.
Unexpectedly, the white-clothed swordsman seemed to know Fan Xian's insidious combat methods very well, and had already avoided the three crossbow arrows, and also held his breath, and it was still a straight sword, passing through thousands of mountains, crossing thousands of rivers, breaking through the smoke, and killing Fan Xian's face.
At this time, Fan Xian, who had used all the means, was blocking in front of the Emperor, even if this sword pierced over, it would first pierce Fan Xian's body, even if he was so righteous that he was willing to die for the Emperor, he could only do this step, as for the little eunuch who was assassinating behind His Majesty... well, please His Majesty bless himself.
A sword is coming to his face!
The domineering true energy in Fan Xian's body was incomparably violent. At this time, he did not know whether his mind was commanding the true energy, or whether the true energy had already controlled his mind. He only heard him scream sharply, and his palms quickly came out. The true energy in his body seemed to be compressed into extremely solid two sections of mountain rock, passing through his arms, and faced the cold sword.
The white-clothed swordsman frowned slightly, knowing that if he still held the sword straight in, even if he pierced Fan Xian's chest, he would be afraid that his chest bones would be completely shattered by these terrifying two palms.
With a sound of "Chi," the ancient sword, like an immortal flicking a green branch in the world, swayed slightly and pierced into Fan Xian's shoulder!
At this moment, the white-clothed swordsman abandoned his sword and faced Fan Xian with his palm.
With a loud