Chapter 120: Subversion (Part V)

"Look, look who has arrived."

"Narendradeva, surely you haven't sobered up from your hangover yet."

"Indeed. If you were sober, why would you wander into the wrong place?"

Amidst the jeers and comments of these people, bursts of raucous laughter echoed through the spacious hall. Narendradeva walked past them without a hint of embarrassment, his eyes filled with pity. He had no interest in speaking to people who were essentially dead men walking.

Although Nepal was a small kingdom, it was a case of "the sparrow may be small, but it has all its vital organs." Gathered here were the absolute elite of the country, including the King, several influential princes, and the nobles who supported them. The only one missing was someone of his ilk.

Of course, in terms of status, he was also a prince. Though his brothers mocked him, none cared enough to drive him out. After all, he lacked presence and rarely attended such meetings; what difference did it make whether he came or not?

Even the old King, sitting in the center, shared this sentiment. Watching his son approach step by step, he waved his hand impatiently and said, "Narendradeva, is there something you need?"

"Indeed, my Sovereign." Narendradeva bowed, clutching his chest with both hands.

"Very well, I am listening." The old King clearly didn't believe him. Who wasn't aware of this youngest son's character? He had married a merchant's daughter, gaining no political advantage whatsoever. What profound thing could possibly come out of his mouth?

"My friends have informed me that the Tang are about to strike. I wonder, what plans do you have to save this pitiful country?"

"What!"

Narendradeva straightened his posture, scanned the room, and repeated his words.

"The Tang are coming. Have you decided how you will kneel to lick their heels?"

The hall fell silent instantly. Everyone heard what he said, not because the content was shocking, but because the speaker seemed to project an entirely different impression. It seemed impossible for such words to come from him.

"What has gotten into you? Who said the Tang are attacking? Where are they? The Tibetans..." The old King, both shocked and furious, could not help but scold him.

Narendradeva interrupted him without ceremony. "Did the Tibetans tell you they are still holding Kyirong?"

"And what if they are? Can the Tang grow wings and fly here?"

"In fact," Narendradeva spread his hands and smiled, "they are indeed flying here. Of course, whether they actually grew wings or not, you will know when you see them. But I suspect you might not get that chance."

"What did you say?"

His attitude provoked the anger of his brothers, and the nobles began to murmur, all of them united in their disbelief. How could a merchant's daughter have such remarkable friends? Why should they trust his words when even the Tibetans were unaware of such news?

The hall erupted into noise. Narendradeva, the one who had sparked the trouble, stood at the eye of the storm, unfazed, retorting to everyone—even the old King.

Finally, his attitude incited collective fury. The old King, seizing the opportunity, pointed toward the palace gates, intending to have him thrown out.

"Narendradeva, I do not care how much you have drunk. This is a place for state affairs. Get out! Go back to your quarters, at once!"

"As you wish, my Sovereign."

Narendradeva appeared to have regained his senses. Before leaving, he put on a smile, as if the provocateur from moments ago had never existed. But as he reached the main entrance and prepared to push the doors open, some unusual sounds drifted in from the outside.

These sounds caused the hall to grow quiet again. The noise of the previous argument and the thickness of the doors had muffled the outside, but now that it was suddenly silent, the sounds became much more prominent.

Could it be that the Tang had truly arrived?

Recalling his alarming words, a dark premonition dawned on everyone.

"Welcome to hell."

Narendradeva took a deep breath and resolutely pushed the doors open.

As expected, the target chosen by Syndicate was the royal palace, for only here could they find hostages of sufficient weight.

Because of the activities in the square, the palace guards were fewer than usual. At the front of the palace gates, fewer than ten men stood in a scattered line. The nearby streets were empty of pedestrians; everyone had been drawn away by the events in the square—it was a heaven-sent opportunity.

"Now it depends on your skills."

Syndicate led twenty or so young men from the village. Liu Ji and his subordinates were roughly the same in number. Standing about a hundred paces away, he pointed toward the palace gate and began assigning tasks.

"See? The guards are few. You must strike fast. As long as you break in and seize one or two influential people, it won't matter how many soldiers they bring later."

Seeing her hesitate, Liu Ji reminded her, "You had better be quick. The Tibetans will not give Timo much time."

Syndicate drew the curved blade hanging at her waist, took a deep breath, and crouched low, hugging the outer wall of the palace as she crept forward. The young men from the village followed closely. A few hunters drew their wooden bows; they moved swiftly and were already approaching the steps.

Liu Ji and his men were even faster. They were all masked, dressed in the attire of mountain tribesmen. The difference was that they held straight blades—the standard-issue weapons of the Tibetans. Reaching the bottom of the steps, Liu Ji leaped up first. Du Guli followed behind him, his wooden bow drawn, a feathered arrow already nocked.

"Who goes there?"

In broad daylight, it was impossible to remain hidden. The men on the steps quickly discovered their movement. Du Guli did not hesitate to loose the first arrow; the man who had spoken was struck, let out a howl, and tumbled down.

Syndicate's team also fired their arrows, catching the men outside the gate off guard. Seeing the situation turn dire, several guards rushed forward to intercept. One turned to run in another direction, but Kang Laosi chased him down and skewered him from behind with a single strike.

"Kill them all! Don't let a single one escape!" Liu Ji shouted. His straight blade parried a guard's spear, then plunged into the man's body. He shoved the corpse into the crowd, and his men rushed up to surround the defenders.

Perhaps because it was her first time killing, Syndicate's hands felt weak. It was only after she personally ended a life that she seemed to awaken, roaring as she pursued the next target, her curved blade tracing arcs of death through the crowd.

She did not know how much time had passed. When she felt the pressure around her lighten, she realized she had broken through the crowd. Unable to stop her momentum, she stumbled forward, but a strong arm caught her before she could collide with the wall.

"Steady yourself." Liu Ji released her, his gaze fixed on the two massive, tightly shut doors.

Syndicate understood his concern. The doors were thick and heavy, and they opened inward. Without tools, they would be difficult to break down in a short time, and time was the one thing they lacked.

"What now?" Subconsciously, she had already begun to view him as the leader.

"Wait a moment." Liu Ji did not turn back. Just as Syndicate was about to ask, "Wait for what?", a startling scene unfolded before their eyes.

The great doors were opened slowly. Immediately after, a man walked out with his hands raised high. Seeing them, he wore a look of innocence.

"Do not strike. It is I."