Li Haimo carried Xiao Meng down to the main hall on the first floor, landing right in the center. He smiled at Jing Ke and said with a laugh, "Whether we're allies or passersby, we're just here for the show."
"The jianghu's spectacles aren't always easy on the eyes," Jing Ke replied, picking up a sword from the ground—dropped by who knows who in the earlier scuffle. He fixed his full attention on the pair.
"You're the Azure-Clad Guests?" Gao Jianli interjected suddenly. Having spent years drifting through the inns and taverns of Yan and Zhao, he was far more tuned into the rumors than the greenhorn Jing Ke. The Azure-Clad Guests: they played the hero at times, yet dabbled in banditry too. They'd step in for the underdog one moment, then rob the wealthy blind the next. Even the Mohists couldn't pin them down—neither fully righteous nor wicked, just acting on whim.
"What Azure-Clad Guests?" Li Haimo and Xiao Meng both blinked in confusion. Over three years wandering from Qin to Yan, they'd kept to themselves, reveling in their own world without mingling with the jianghu crowd.
"Rumors in the jianghu speak of the Azure-Clad Guests: a man and a woman, young, traveling from Han through Wei and Zhao. They rob the rich but aid the oppressed—like knights, yet not quite; righteous in deed, erratic in form. The man favors azure robes, the woman azure-white. Their martial styles are a jumble, so no one's traced their school," Gao Jianli explained, subtly warning Jing Ke.
"Senior Brother, we've got a name in the jianghu now? But why just one?" Xiao Meng whispered, though in a room full of seasoned martial artists, every ear caught it.
"Isn't one enough? Wherever you are, there I am too—what's the difference between one name or two?" Li Haimo ruffled her hair affectionately.
Xiao Meng beamed at his words, squeezing his hand.
"Ahem—so, are we fighting or what?" Jing Ke cleared his throat awkwardly. Normally, he'd charge in without a second thought: friend or foe, sort it out with fists—kill the enemies, laugh off the allies. But these two were a pair, and he had this Gao Jianli tagalong—ghost knows if the guy could even swing a blade. Plus, either one of them felt like they could take him apart solo.
"You got coin to buy me new clothes?" Li Haimo shot back.
Jing Ke paused, then got it—they were no foes, just itching for a scrap maybe. But he wasn't in the mood for an unnecessary thrashing, and truth be told, he was flat broke; hadn't even settled his bar tab. He stood there, flustered, unsure what to do next.
"The jianghu's been buzzing about you two, but no one's got your real names or lineage. Care to share?" Gao Jianli asked timely, easing the tension.
"Too lazy to say, inconvenient to explain—and you wouldn't dare hear it anyway. Besides, why bother getting chummy with two dead men walking?" Li Haimo brushed it off. Per the timeline, these two fools were about to storm a Qin-garrisoned city to rescue Kuang Xiu. Outcome? Jing Ke unleashes his one-in-eight killer strike, then flees with Gao Jianli, both ending up on Qin's wanted list while Kuang Xiu bites his tongue in suicide.
In game terms: Kuang Xiu gets ganked by five; mid and jungle rush to save, botch it, nearly triple-kill themselves, lose lane and resources, get chased to hell, then Jing Ke all-ins a tower steal—only to get kited and countered by the Qin king. Gao Jianli tilts hard and feeds. Pig teammates like that? Ruin the match for everyone—straight to quit and uninstall.
"Friends, we're heading out to save Kuang Xiu—you know, the renowned qin master of the Seven States. Doesn't that strike you as worthwhile?" Jing Ke pressed, hoping to recruit them. With these two, odds skyrocketed—they'd spring Kuang Xiu for sure.
"We don't know the guy—why risk it? And piss off Qin enough for a bounty? If your buddy here hadn't bitten off more than he could chew saving some Qin defector, Kuang Xiu might've ended up as the king's personal musician. Instead, he's bait to lure out your pal," Li Haimo said.
Indeed, Kuang Xiu's fame echoed even in Qin—he was lined up for a court gig. But Gao Jianli's reckless rescue of the Qin traitor Fan Yuqi into Yan got him blacklisted. To flush him out, Qin nabbed Kuang Xiu and leaked the news. And Gao Jianli? Oblivious that others were paying for his mess. As for Fan Yuqi—good luck saving that one.
Never mind that Fan Yuqi courted his own doom: botched a campaign, feared the axe, broke the mold by deserting—first high-rank Qin officer to bolt. The Six States wouldn't touch him; you, a wandering qin player, think you're hot stuff pulling that off? Yan's king probably wanted to throttle you for it, but had to take Fan in or face mockery from the Six for cowering before Qin. And Fan? No Li Mu or Lian Po-level star—just another dime-a-dozen general Qin could spit out by the dozen. Yan must've been nuts to want him.
"You're saying Kuang Xiu got grabbed because of me?" Gao Jianli froze.
He'd fancied the rescue as some noble echo of Bo Ya and Zi Qi's legendary bond—a true kindred spirit's deed. Never dreamed it all stemmed from his own folly. He stood there, shattered.
"Kuang Xiu was set: Seven States' top musician, on track for Qin's royal favor. But you save a guy even the Six States shunned, and a furious Qin king orders the grab to smoke you out," Li Haimo continued.
"So next time you play savior, check your own weight first—don't rescue the unworthy. You hear 'Qin defector' and your blood boils, charging in blind, oblivious to the fallout on others, on your own damn country." Li Haimo paused, then drove the sarcasm home.
Fan Yuqi defects: skirts Han (nope), hits Wei (nope), tries Zhao (with Lian Po and Li Mu? Double nope). Only weakling Yan and its pie-in-the-sky prince Yan Dan bite. Imagine: a top general who flees punishment and betrays his realm—which army wants that? They'd spit on him, not shelter him.
And honestly, Qin's laws were harsh but fair—Fan Yuqi's screw-up was political, not battlefield treason. Demotion at worst; pull strings with the brass, lay low, and he'd bounce back. Qin wasn't short on generals, but leading tens of thousands wasn't entry-level. Why else tap youngsters like Li Xin, Wang Li, Meng Tian, Meng Yi later? Fan just chickened out and ran.
Worse, he set the precedent: first military noble to defect since Qin's merit system kicked in. So the court unanimously greenlit the manhunt. Truth? Qin didn't even rate him—Lü Buwei and crew barely blinked.
"Is saving someone wrong?" Gao Jianli's gaze dulled.
"Saving's fine—but did you even know Fan Yuqi? Why Qin assassins trek cross-country to hunt him, while the other states look away?" Li Haimo countered.
"You didn't. Bet you figured: Han's too decadent, Wei's Qin-whipped, Zhao's gutless post-Bai Qi. Only Yan's got the fire left—so off you charge. But did you ever ask Qin's folk about Fan? I'll tell you: they'd disown him as a disgrace, bar him from the ancestral hall. And your 'fiery' Yan? Weaker than Han even—right now, Qi, Chu, Han, Zhao, Wei's courts are plotting a united front against Qin. Only your 'bold' Yan dithers, whining about thin ranks and sparse talent."
"Of course, you did one good thing: dumping Fan on Yan forced them into the Six-State alliance."
Gao Jianli felt the world go black—his hot-blooded rescue had doomed another to suffer in his stead.
"And if you stay put? Your rep tanks, but Kuang Xiu walks free after a bit—back to Qin court life, just disappointed in his 'kindred spirit.' But if you go? Forget surviving yourselves—Kuang Xiu's doomed for sure," Li Haimo added.
"I don't get half your talk. All I know: Kuang Xiu needs saving," Jing Ke cut in.
Li Haimo eyed him like an idiot. This guy—destined Mohist leader, Six-Fingered Black Xia's pick, from a Wei general's house—had brains like mush. Sold out by Yan Dan, wife stolen, career hijacked, and he's still counting the coins for his betrayer.
"That's all I'll say—go or not, your call. I don't care if you live or die; we're strangers anyway. Skip it, and I've got ways to spring Kuang Xiu. Charge in? See ya—scratch that, better we never cross paths again." Li Haimo turned away. A bamboo slip strategy to Xianyang Palace, banking on Daoist clout—Qin would cough up Kuang Xiu to Taiyi for face. But with these two blundering in? Political mess; no one's pulling strings. And Kuang Xiu wasn't worth a sect leader's intervention.
"Who the hell are you?" Jing Ke demanded.
"We tight or something? Why spill?" Li Haimo retorted, leading Xiao Meng back upstairs.
Meant to glimpse the bold duo who'd dare assassinate Qin—turns out, just reckless hotheads, acting on impulse without a thought. Guys like that: one ends up Mohist bigwig, gets sold out; the other grabs the reins too. With them at the helm, no wonder Mohism tanked from top-tier philosophy to zilch. Left Confucians to cozy up with Legalists in that Confucian-skin-Legalist-bones gig, thriving like weeds.
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