Chapter Seventy-Seven: Assassination

Previously, we saw that Leopard of the Stripped Hide failed to persuade Xu Yaozu to surrender, leaving him frustrated and dejected.

Wolf Camphor stepped forward, requesting permission to infiltrate the rebel camp alone and assassinate Murong Yan and Ye Feng. Leopard of the Stripped Hide was overjoyed, bowing respectfully, but he remained uneasy and cautioned, “Junior brother, the rebel camp is full of formidable talents. Be careful! Among them is someone named Mu Shijin, known in the martial world as the ‘Thousand-faced Rogue,’ skilled in disguises. If you encounter him, withdraw if you can—do not get tangled.”

Wolf Camphor shrugged off the concern. “Senior brother, don’t worry! I’ve trained under our master for many years; surely I’m not inferior to some rogue! Seeing their cowardice today, I believe they’re nothing special.”

Leopard of the Stripped Hide grew even more anxious, admonishing, “Junior brother, never underestimate them! They may seem reluctant to leave their camp today, but they have many cunning tricks. Once they employ them, you’ll see their power.”

Wolf Camphor finally nodded in agreement. “Alright, senior brother, I’ll remember your words. Rest assured, I’ll be cautious.” With that, he took his leave to prepare alone.

He began by indulging in a deep sleep. Only at the first watch of midnight did he rise, tidied himself, tucked an Emei dagger at his waist, and, without alerting his personal guards, transformed into an old wolf. At the back of his tent, he dug a small hole and slipped out.

Outside, he scanned the surroundings, identified his direction, and, like a shadowy specter, raced beyond the encampment.

As he neared the rebel camp, Wolf Camphor crouched low, crawling stealthily forward, unnoticed.

“Hey, brother, where’s the Marshal’s tent? I have crucial documents to deliver.”

Disguised, Wolf Camphor swaggered up to a sentry and asked for Murong Yan’s quarters.

The sentry’s expression darkened; he did not answer but demanded, “Password!”

Wolf Camphor grinned. “Isn’t it ‘Exorcise the demon’? Brother, no need to be so tense!”

The sentry relaxed and replied, “Destroy the devil.” He then kindly directed, “Marshal’s tent is just ahead to the left. Go on.”

But just as Wolf Camphor turned away, a stern voice barked, “Stop!”

Wolf Camphor’s heart skipped a beat, tension surging.

Had he been exposed?

No, the password was correct—he had observed carefully before entering.

Could there be distinctions between male, female, old, young, distant, or close passwords?

In that brief instant, countless thoughts raced through Wolf Camphor’s mind. His right hand slipped to his waist, gripping the Emei dagger, ready to strike.

“Brother, you look unfamiliar. Which unit are you from?” The sentry stepped up, placing a friendly hand on Wolf Camphor’s shoulder.

Wolf Camphor’s mind flashed back to Leopard of the Stripped Hide’s warning about Mu Shijin. He quickly put on a smile and answered, “Oh, I’m from the Thousand-faced Rogue Mu Shijin’s unit. Just joined recently. Please look after me!”

The sentry burst out laughing. “No need for such courtesy! We’re all risking our necks in battle, living for the nation. Since we share the same purpose, we’re family here.”

Hearing this, Wolf Camphor silently admired Murong Yan and Ye Feng for their leadership—no wonder their troops won so often.

But he had tonight’s mission: assassinate the enemy commanders. He couldn’t afford further delays.

He nodded again. “Brother, I have urgent business, can’t chat further. Farewell!”

The sentry nodded. “Go ahead! Duty comes first. We can talk later.”

Relieved, Wolf Camphor hurried away.

Arriving outside the Marshal’s tent, he saw dozens of candles burning inside, bright as day. From afar, he glimpsed a beautiful woman and a young man poring over a military map, discussing strategies.

Wolf Camphor guessed these must be Murong Yan and Ye Feng. But it was not the right moment for assassination—the pair together made the task much harder.

He circled behind the tent, cut a slit with his Emei dagger, and pressed close, staring intently at the two inside, seeking an opening to complete his mission.

The woman’s face, bathed in candlelight, was rosy and radiant, her skin glistening like snow, strikingly beautiful. No wonder Xu Zhihui was infatuated with her. Wolf Camphor was mesmerized, salivating.

Finally, at the third watch of midnight, Ye Feng took his leave. Wolf Camphor rejoiced inwardly, waited for Ye Feng to depart, and summoned his demonic power to instantly take Ye Feng’s form.

“Marshal Murong, your subordinate has returned!” He clasped his hands, mimicking Ye Feng’s tone.

“Deputy Ye, what brings you back?” Murong Yan greeted him with a smile.

“Oh, just the matter we discussed about the Falling Wild Goose Ridge terrain. I feel it’s too perilous for us to capture. In my opinion, we should retreat.”

“Oh! Deputy Ye, you just said we needed to outwit them, now you’re advocating retreat? This is unlike you—I’m truly perplexed!” Murong Yan was stunned. She thought, “This Ye Feng is so inconsistent; if not for his appearance, I’d doubt he was the same person.”

But she couldn’t know that this was a false Ye Feng, transformed by Wolf Camphor!

Wolf Camphor strode forward, seeing Murong Yan’s almond eyes clear as water, her cheeks radiant as peach blossom, and couldn’t help reaching out.

“Little beauty, grant your brother’s wish—be my wife!”

Murong Yan had never seen Ye Feng behave so lewdly. Embarrassed and furious, she raised her arm to block Wolf Camphor’s hand.

Though his hand missed her face, it brushed her arm.

He delighted in the touch, sniffed his palm, and grinned. “Little beauty, you smell so sweet. Let me come closer for a kiss.”

Murong Yan stepped back, eyebrows raised, eyes wide.

A metallic ring cut through the air—she drew her Red Sleeve sword and pointed it at Wolf Camphor, shouting, “You’re not Brother Feng! Who are you?!”

Wolf Camphor was startled, silently cursing—how had he forgotten the mission? Now that she had seen through him, how could he launch a surprise attack?

He thought quickly, but kept a calm face.

“Little beauty, who says I’m not your Brother Feng? I am indeed! Today I may be abrupt, but surely you won’t give me up?”

He stepped forward again.

“Monster, you court death!” Murong Yan cried, her sword swirling before stabbing at him.

A clang—sparks flew.

Wolf Camphor parried with his Emei dagger. Murong Yan’s arm trembled, her palm went numb, and she was shocked.

What happened?!

Her opponent’s weapon was short and light, yet the impact was overwhelming—his skill far surpassed hers!

“Help, there’s an assassin!” Murong Yan shouted for aid.

“Where? Where?” The camp erupted in chaos, soldiers rushed in with blades and spears, surrounding the tent.

“He’s here! Some monster disguised as Deputy Ye—seize him!” Murong Yan commanded.

“Nonsense, you’re the monster, disguised as the Marshal to assassinate me!” Wolf Camphor shouted angrily, pointing at Murong Yan, ordering the soldiers, “Arrest her!”

The soldiers were dumbfounded, unsure who was real, hesitating.

“I’m real, you’re an impostor!” Murong Yan argued loudly.

“Swish! Swish!” She stabbed twice.

“Nonsense, little monster, you dare assassinate me? Seeking death!” Wolf Camphor dodged the strikes and pressed forward.

He thrust his Emei dagger at Murong Yan’s chest.

“Vile villain! I’ll fight you to the death!” Murong Yan, both embarrassed and angry, parried with her sword.

Her fist struck at Wolf Camphor’s face.

Wolf Camphor seized her delicate fist with one hand, parried her sword with the other, and thrust toward her throat.

He teased, “Such fragrant little fists! Are you plotting to harm your husband?”

“Shameless! Despicable!” Murong Yan grew more furious, ducked to avoid his dagger, and lunged forward.

Her left hand turned from fist to palm, chopping at his wrist; her right hand raised her sword, striking Wolf Camphor’s back with the hilt.

The two exchanged blows rapidly, trading over fifty moves in moments.

Continuing, Murong Yan began to tire—Wolf Camphor’s Emei dagger moved like lightning, swift and relentless, impossible to defend against!

Wolf Camphor’s lust distracted him; otherwise, Murong Yan would have suffered wounds already.

“Monster! How dare you molest my sister Yan!” Suddenly, an angry voice rang outside. Murong Yan looked up—it was Ye Feng, and she was overjoyed.

“Brother Feng, this fiend disguised himself as you to assassinate me! Help me capture him!” Murong Yan cried.

Before her words finished, Ye Feng jumped in, sword raised.

“Sister Yan, are you alright?” Ye Feng saw Murong Yan panting, sweat on her brow, and asked anxiously.

“I’m fine, only furious that this monster would take your form to take liberties with me—he cannot escape today!” Murong Yan panted.

With Ye Feng by her side, her spirits soared, her sword danced ever faster, locking Wolf Camphor in.

She was determined to take his life!

“Monster, you court death!” Ye Feng’s eyes blazed, brows furrowed, and his Cloudstream sword struck instantly.

“Oh! Little beauty, your lover arrived. Even better! Let me kill him and claim you!” Wolf Camphor, seeing the real Ye Feng, panicked, but kept laughing, hoping to provoke them and disrupt their focus.

“You wish!” Murong Yan, both embarrassed and angry, sped up her swordplay, each strike faster than the last.

“Monster, truly courting death!” Ye Feng’s fury grew, but he kept his composure. His sword was steady and precise.

Wolf Camphor, facing two opponents, became flustered and distressed.

He regretted his actions—had he not been distracted by beauty, he could have killed Murong Yan with a single dagger and avoided all this trouble!

Now, he had to think of how to escape this perilous situation.

He sidestepped Ye Feng’s sword, moving toward the tent entrance.

“Sister Yan, block the doorway—don’t let him escape!” Ye Feng urged her to guard the exit, then shouted, “Men, surround the tent! No one leaves until this fight is over—anyone who disobeys will be cut down!”

At his command, the clatter of blades and spears sounded outside—the tent was tightly surrounded.

Sweat poured from Wolf Camphor’s brow; he knew he had no retreat and would have to fight to the death.

He raised his Emei daggers, shouting, “Murong Yan, Ye Feng, since you won’t let me live, none of you will have peace! I’ll fight you to the end!”

He leaped back into the fray.

Ye Feng’s sword was steady, Murong Yan’s was graceful, Wolf Camphor’s daggers were fierce and cunning. Three masters clashed in a dazzling display, truly breathtaking!

“Clang!” “Clang!” “Bang!” “Bang!” …

The sounds rang out ceaselessly; in a blink, the three had exchanged over a hundred moves.

As the duel dragged on, Wolf Camphor’s sweat poured—after all, two fists cannot match four hands, especially when these four are no ordinary hands!

In single combat, Ye Feng’s skill already surpassed Wolf Camphor’s. His Cloudstream sword flowed like drifting clouds—swift, agile, and unpredictable.

Murong Yan, though a woman, was nimble, her Red Sleeve sword weaving a curtain of crimson, leaving no openings.

Wolf Camphor’s twin daggers were too short—deadly in surprise attacks, but now, in open combat, they felt like empty hands, leaving him on the defensive.

“Murong Yan, Ye Feng, two against one—is this heroism?” Wolf Camphor, seeing his doom, shouted angrily, hoping to provoke a one-on-one fight.

“Nonsense! You infiltrated our camp at night, attempting to assassinate our marshal—how is that honorable?!” Ye Feng’s rage grew, his sword ever sharper, pushing Wolf Camphor to his limits.

Just as Wolf Camphor was about to fall, a furious voice called from outside, “Who dares attack my disciple must face me first!”

With the words, a figure swept aside the tent flap and entered.

Now, true heroes joined forces against the wolf demon, determined not to let evil run rampant.