Chapter Ninety-Nine: The Astonishing Plan

The candle flickered with a staccato rhythm, its flame stretched thin and elongated. The eerie blaze, combined with the dim light, made the room feel even more sinister and foreboding.

Before darkness fully descends, it first sweeps across the world in a vast shroud of shadows.

Zhang He realized the matter was growing increasingly complex. The key points of this mission were shrouded in too many mysteries, making it difficult to weave the threads of these events into a coherent whole.

Yet, from this small scroll of paper, he could still draw many conclusions.

There was no way this was sent by Fat Mantis—it was too troublesome and too risky. Even if it were a pigeon post, this was inside the manor; releasing a pigeon here would inevitably cause a disturbance. Besides, Fat Mantis wasn’t even online.

Nor could it have come from the steward Yan Jiu. His behavior, words, demeanor, and status made it clear that he was no friend of Zhang He’s.

And it definitely wasn’t the work of Qi Shiqi, for the peach blossom emblem printed on the scroll was glaringly obvious. Had He Yaojun not already withdrawn from the “Dynasty”? When had he reemerged on the scene? Moreover, Zhong Shuman, listed among his close friends, hadn’t logged on for several hours...

No matter how much Zhang He pondered, he simply couldn’t figure out who might be secretly helping him—and who this person could be.

Resigned, he unrolled the small scroll. It was composed of many layers, wrapped with great care. After unfolding it all, he found ten sheets of paper, each about the size of a palm.

Each sheet was not only numbered but made of exquisite material. Such paper was only sold in exclusive general stores in large cities; a place like Happy Forest could never produce such finely crafted sheets.

On the first sheet, a line of tiny, neat handwriting read: “Follow the route.”

The words were concise and precise, accompanied below by a simple diagram outlining the path to take.

The sender clearly understood human nature—he didn’t specify what Zhang He was to do, but he knew Zhang He would go, for the simpler the message, the greater the curiosity it would arouse.

Sure enough, Zhang He pushed open the door and stepped outside. The night was deep, yet the manor’s festive atmosphere was even more intense. Beneath every eave hung red lanterns, and bright red "Double Happiness" characters were pasted on the walls.

Had it been daytime, Zhang He might have been swept up in the joyous mood. But now, he saw these lanterns as monstrous, gaping mouths of some bloodthirsty creatures, ready to swallow him whole at any moment. He had to tread carefully.

After winding through many twists and turns following the route, Zhang He entered a quiet courtyard. The style was fresh and inviting, with winding paths suggesting it was no place to welcome guests.

There stood a delicate two-story villa. The ground floor’s main hall was brightly lit. Though only a few NPCs and players were present, all were women.

In the central hall stood an ornate dressing table. A petite, beautiful female player sat before the mirror, surrounded by several women who did her makeup, styled her hair, and helped her try on dresses.

Zhang He immediately understood—this must be the Third Miss, the bride to be married tomorrow.

In this regard, “Dynasty” bore a strong resemblance to the real world. On the eve of her wedding, a bride would surely make herself as beautiful as possible, for she would be the center of attention the next day. If she had only one day in her life to shine, then tomorrow would surely be it in “Dynasty.”

But why would the mysterious messenger want him to see the bride? Zhang He couldn’t help but wonder. He wasn’t the groom, nor was he unfamiliar with brides marrying off. Could there be some hidden meaning behind this?

He drew out another sheet from the scroll and glanced at the second one. Suddenly, he felt a chill run down his spine.

This sheet bore a short, exquisite painting, evidently the work of a master artist—only a player of great skill could produce such a concise yet vivid image.

The painting depicted the entrance to the Sword Manor. A man and a woman appeared to be bowing with smiles to an alluring woman. Judging by their expressions, the couple seemed to be bidding farewell to the manor’s mistress.

On closer inspection, Zhang He saw that the woman bore a strong resemblance to the Fourth Miss, while the couple unmistakably were himself and Zhong Shuman.

A breeze swept through the courtyard, and for the first time, Zhang He felt a faint chill along his back.

He wasn’t startled by the strangeness of the matter but fearful of the mysterious person’s abilities—this individual seemed to know everything about his and Zhong Shuman’s movements.

Zhang He immediately turned and headed toward the manor’s entrance to verify the truth.

Unfortunately, the manor gate was as lively as during the day. Guests arriving at night were no fewer than those in daylight, but it was not the Fourth Miss who greeted him—it was Yan Jiu, wearing a sly, ill-intentioned grin.

“Finished eating? Was the meal to your liking?” Anyone unaware might think Yan Jiu and Zhang He were old friends.

Zhang He replied indifferently, “It was okay.”

Yan Jiu’s smile broadened. “Good, good. Hey, brother, where are you headed so late?”

This time, Zhang He stammered slightly, “I... I’m a bit... craving... the wontons from Tianxiang Tower. They’re... quite tasty.”

His stammer was deliberate; if he spoke smoothly, Yan Jiu would likely detect the ruse.

It was simple: Yan Jiu assumed that if Zhang He could eat the night meal, that would be strange. This sudden hunger must mean that, due to his low status and reluctance to ask, he was sneaking out alone to find food.

Of course, if Yan Jiu knew what Zhang He was really up to, he might lose his temper on the spot.

“Need me to arrange a carriage to take you into town?” Yan Jiu, a skilled actor himself, wore a concerned expression so genuine it seemed Zhang He was his wife and he her caring husband.

But Zhang He’s acting was no less convincing. He hastily waved off the offer: “No, no, no need—it’s too much trouble. I’ll go by myself, by myself.”

As he spoke, he fled toward the riverbank.

Yan Jiu watched his retreating figure with a smile, but his eyes held a trace of scorn. From the gate, he called after him, “Be careful in the dark; the roads are slippery. If you don’t have enough money, just say you’re from the manor and put it on the manor’s tab...”

Far away, Zhang He sneered inwardly, “I won’t put it on your manor’s tab—I’ll put it on your head and settle with you later.”

On a small bridge, Zhang He, under faint light, unfolded the third sheet. The image was even more vivid and lifelike. It showed Zhong Shuman leading a fine horse, seemingly bidding farewell to Zhang He. They stood facing each other, gesturing as if in a poignant farewell, offering repeated warnings and earnest reminders.

Just as Zhang He thought this scroll might be a prank, the fourth sheet’s illustration unsettled him further. It depicted a luxurious, ornate carriage, lavishly decorated—clearly no ordinary coach.

Ahead of the carriage stretched a long procession: drummers, box bearers, gift carriers—a grand party of dozens.

Suddenly, Zhang He understood: these pages depicted events set to unfold tomorrow morning.

But how could this mysterious person foresee tomorrow’s happenings? Did they possess some supernatural foresight?

If the first four sheets planted seeds of doubt, the fifth sheet delivered a startling shock. It showed Zhang He himself crawling under the carriage, seemingly trying to slip inside, unnoticed by the surrounding crowd.

He quickly flipped through the sixth and seventh images. As he slipped into the carriage, the bride, her face veiled with a scarf, appeared oblivious. She was about to lift the curtain on the carriage door, perhaps to peer outside, at which moment Zhang He’s sword pierced her back.

Sweat beaded on his forehead. His long-dormant heart suddenly beat anew. This was an assassination plan targeting the bride—a plan so shocking and audacious it defied description.

If it succeeded, it would be a fatal blow to the Sword Manor. Such an incident before all the heroes would cast a dark shadow over the wedding. The reputations of the Sword Manor and the Beggars’ Sect would suffer greatly. These might be minor compared to the ultimate goal: to force the Sword Manor into submission, deter rash actions, and finally have Qi Shiqi step forward to negotiate a truce.

The plan was exquisite, sinister, merciless—and highly effective.

Hurriedly, Zhang He drew out the eighth and ninth sheets. The pictures showed himself performing lightness skills, leaping across horses, the carriage, and the crowd, ultimately escaping safely.

The final sheet bore no illustration, only four small characters that spoke volumes: “Mission accomplished, retreat.”

The night closed in like a strange, chaotic mist, gradually enveloping Zhang He in shadow. Gazing toward the brilliantly lit Sword Manor in the distance, a nameless fear seeped into his heart.

It was not fear in the usual sense but a new understanding of his mission at Sword Manor. In this “Dynasty” world, Zhang He was not the only one clever and thoughtful. This mysterious figure clearly rivaled him in wit and strategy.

Was this person Qi Shiqi? If so, that was fortunate—Qi Shiqi must have long anticipated Zhang He’s journey.

But if not? If this was an enemy? Should he trust this plan? Regardless, at this desperate juncture, taking a risk was no worse than standing still.

Determination settled on Zhang He’s face. After a long moment, he carefully folded the sheets back into his bag and strode resolutely toward the manor.