Chapter 68: Princess Fu Takes a Bath

As soon as Zhang Xun finished speaking, a few soldiers stepped forward with ropes, ready to tie up Zhou Yi. But Zhou Yi would never wait meekly for his fate. Before the soldiers could reach him, he snatched the rifle from the soldier at the front, chambered a round, and aimed the weapon directly at Zhang Xun.

“Commander Zhang, I grew up hunting in the Changbai Mountains. I can shoot a rabbit running at full speed—care to test my marksmanship?” Zhou Yi had barely finished speaking when he fired a shot at Zhang Xun.

Zhang Xun instinctively flinched. Looking back, he saw a soldier behind him attempting to raise his rifle and shoot Zhou Yi in secret, but Zhou Yi’s bullet had struck the man squarely in the forehead. The soldier was beyond saving.

Even as the soldier fell, his right hand was still pressing down on the bolt.

“If any of you try anything, don’t blame me for being merciless. If you doubt me, feel free to test your luck,” Zhou Yi said, the same cold smile lingering on his lips. Had this been before he survived the Heavenly Tribulation, he would never have been so calm and unruffled.

The flicker of panic on Zhang Xun’s face quickly faded as he squinted at Zhou Yi, trying to appear composed, though the slight trembling of his lower eyelid betrayed him.

“Commander Zhang, perhaps now we can discuss the matter of those three weapons?” Zhou Yi said, keeping the gun level at Zhang Xun. Truthfully, he did not need to act this way now—killing Zhang Xun did not require firearms. Still, the gun’s intimidation would better instill fear.

“You dare point a gun at a loyal servant of the court? Such audacity! If you lay a finger on me, you’ll implicate nine generations of your family—it’s a crime punishable by extermination,” Zhang Xun retorted, taking a deep drag of his pipe and pointing at Zhou Yi.

“Still threatening me when death is at your doorstep? I’ll kill you right now,” Zhou Yi snapped, enraged. Zhang Xun had touched his reverse scale by threatening his family—an unforgivable offense.

As he spoke, Zhou Yi’s finger tightened on the trigger. Another gunshot rang out.

The bullet whistled straight for Zhang Xun at a speed needing no further description. At the critical moment, someone darted in from outside the courtyard, grabbed Zhang Xun by the collar, and yanked him aside.

The bullet brushed past Zhang Xun’s ear, piercing cleanly through his left ear before continuing on to strike another soldier squarely in the brow.

A wail of agony escaped Zhang Xun as he clutched his bleeding ear, glaring at Zhou Yi with gritted teeth. “Shoot him! Kill him where he stands!”

“Amitabha. Commander Zhang, do not act rashly. This man is wanted by my monastery’s abbot. Hand him over to me and I’ll see to his punishment,” the rescuer intervened just as Zhang Xun barked his order.

It was none other than Xuhua from Mount Wutai.

“The abbot Huiming wants him?” Zhang Xun turned to Xuhua, his wounded ear obliterating any trace of composure. Etiquette forgotten, he asked directly.

“Amitabha—all as my venerable master commands,” Xuhua replied, unconcerned with formality as befitted a high disciple of the Buddhist order.

Zhang Xun’s teeth ground together audibly, his eyes narrowed to slits. “I can arrange for an escort to see you safely back to Mount Wutai, but I have one condition.”

Xuhua nodded. “Rest assured, Commander. Once my master has dealt with him, I will surrender him to your custody.”

Zhou Yi’s lips curled with scorn at their conversation. “Planning how to deal with me before you’ve even caught me? Aren’t you underestimating me just a little?”

With that, Zhou Yi bent his knees and sprang onto the rooftop. “Zhang Xun, old scoundrel! The next time I return will be the day of your death. I’m off!”

One had to admit, Zhou Yi was somewhat cheeky at this moment. Perhaps his recent reconciliation with Wu Qian had lightened his heart, making him act like a youth in his prime once more.

Seeing Zhou Yi attempting to escape, Zhang Xun would not have it. He waved his hand, and his soldiers unleashed a wild barrage of gunfire.

Zhou Yi had half a mind to bid Zhang Xun farewell, but the situation demanded a swift retreat. Using the rooftop for leverage, he leapt away into the distance.

At the moment of takeoff, a sharp pain shot through his shoulder, but he dared not pause. He dashed north without looking back.

Upon landing, he glanced at the gunshot wound—nothing serious. But as he turned, he saw Xuhua in pursuit. This bald monk was truly relentless.

He sped north for several miles until a broad moat, some fifty meters across, appeared before him—the very moat encircling the Forbidden City. Looking back, he saw Xuhua was still some distance behind—about half a mile—so he dashed across the water, heading straight for the city.

“Halt! Who goes there?” Zhou Yi had barely crossed the moat when two soldiers atop the wall shouted and aimed their rifles at him. He noticed there were only two—likely a sign of the newly restored regime’s shortage of men, with too few assigned to the city wall.

Two soldiers were of little consequence to Zhou Yi. Circulating his spiritual energy, he sprang upward like an eagle, swooping down upon them.

The soldiers were so terrified they forgot to fire. They’d only ever heard tales of lightness skill in teahouse stories—never had they seen it with their own eyes.

Zhou Yi landed on the wall without pausing, used it as a springboard, and soon vanished among the myriad rooftops of the Forbidden City.

Only then did the guards recover enough to sound the alarm, furiously banging their gong. “Assassin! Assassin!”

Zhou Yi heard none of this, for he was already in the rear palace, the quarters of the former empresses and concubines of the Qing court. He’d come in search of cloth to dress his wound.

He found two garments, but both were silk—not suitable for bandaging—so he tossed them aside and continued his search. By now, a group of soldiers had arrived, clamoring to catch the intruder.

His eyes darted about. Slipping into a nearby chamber, he hid to evade pursuit. Inside, he immediately sensed something odd—the air was more humid and clammy than elsewhere.

Glancing back, he saw a woman bathing behind a curtain. He quickly covered his eyes, reminding himself to look no further.

Just as he was about to leave, voices came from outside the door—so clear they must be right outside. There was no way out now.

He looked again at the woman. She turned her head toward the doorway; their eyes met, and both froze. The woman was about to scream, but Zhou Yi rushed over, covering her mouth with his hand.

He whispered into her ear, “Don’t shout. If you do, I’ll kill you.” As he spoke, the edge of his flaming blade was pressed to her neck.

The woman’s eyes widened in terror and she nodded frantically. Only then did Zhou Yi release his hand.

“Who are you?” she asked in a whisper.

“I mean you no harm. I’m only hiding here for a moment. Once the soldiers outside are gone, I’ll leave at once,” Zhou Yi replied, keeping his eyes closed. Ever since overcoming the Heavenly Tribulation, his senses were so keen that he could detect the woman’s slightest movement without looking. By closing his eyes, he hoped to assure her he was no lecherous thief.

“Is Princess Fu inside?” a voice called from outside.

Princess Fu was a fictional character, as all seven princesses of the late Qing dynasty left descendants. Naming a specific one might cause controversy.