Besides lying down, I also know a little about power struggles

Chapter 164 Assassination
Jiawu was like a ghost, coming at him with such force that even the people around him were unable to stop him.

When Fang Tong saw the short blade stabbing in front of him, he moved instinctively.

She inherited Bingqi's memory and practiced diligently these days. If she really fought with someone, it would not be difficult for her to exchange a few moves.

She was about to dodge the blade when she saw the ferocious smile on Jiawu's face, and her heart suddenly shuddered.

She is Fang Tong, not Bing Qi.

Bingqi competes in martial arts, but Fang Tong is not good at it.

If she showed off her skills in front of others, even if she could make up an excuse to justify herself, she would inevitably arouse suspicion.

So she couldn't hide, and not only could she not hide, but she would also appear even more clumsy.

She screamed and looked terrified, like a helpless woman, dodging without any plan, but was covered by the blade.

Feeling the cold wind blowing on his face, Fang Tong raised his arms to protect his face.

At the critical moment, a thought suddenly flashed through her mind. She didn't ask for being unscathed, but just for not getting her face hurt.

As soon as this thought came to my mind, I felt my waist tighten and my body involuntarily turned half a circle.

A warm body embraced her.

Fang Tong opened her eyes and saw two arms around her. The person holding her was Feng Twelve.

She was in a daze for a moment and found that Feng Twelve had changed her position, with his chest against her back and his back facing the direction of Jia Wu's attack.

"twelve!"

Several exclamations were heard from behind.

Fang Tong hurriedly tried to turn around, but was held aside by Feng Twelve.

She turned her head and caught a glimpse of a few bright red spots on the ground, blooming like red plum blossoms on the snow-white ground.

She grabbed the hand of Feng Twelve Rings on her waist and asked anxiously, "Are you hurt?"

Feng Twelve held her in his backhand and squeezed her hard: "It's okay."

He brought her to a stop, and Fang Tong then saw the guards on the sidelines rushing up and fighting with Jiawu.

In addition to the guards, the Dali Temple runners were also busy. Liu Yin looked particularly anxious, shouting at people to stop Jiawu.

The Ninth Princess retreated to the side of Feng Twelve under the protection of her maids. She glanced at Feng Twelve and said, "Twelve, your injury..."

When Fang Tong heard this, there was nothing she didn't understand. She broke free from Feng Twelve's arms and pulled him to the side.

Summer clothes are thin, and there is a bloodstain on someone's thin back, revealing the flesh underneath.

Fang Tong understood at a glance that she was injured by Jia Wu's short blade, and Feng Twelve blocked the knife for her in front of everyone.

She pursed her lips, unwilling to say more in front of others, and held him tighter with one hand.

"…Heal the wound first." She whispered.

The guests present had already left their seats under the escort of the guards. Crown Prince Feng Yunxi was surrounded by everyone. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Feng Twelve and Fang Tong return to a safe place.

"What are you doing--" Like Fang Tong, he stopped talking halfway and called for someone to come and treat Feng Twelve's injuries.

Prince Jing Feng Yuyang followed beside him with a gloomy look on his face. Looking at his appearance, everyone knew that he was in a very bad mood. It was no wonder, as no one could have imagined that the prisoner from the Dali Temple would suddenly commit a crime and injure a prince.

Even if Feng Twelve was out of favor, he was still a prince. He was injured at Feng Yuyang's banquet, and Feng Yuyang, as the host of the banquet, was naturally ashamed.

Feng Yu raised his sleeves and watched the medical officer cut open the clothes on Feng Twelve's back, revealing the hideous wound. His eyes darkened. He glanced at Feng Yunxi, who was full of worry, and comforted her, "Fortunately, the bones were not injured. Twelve should be fine."

Before he finished speaking, a sob was heard. Fang Tong hooked her fingers on Feng Twelve's sleeve, her eyes filled with tears.

"Your Highness, why are you so stupid? I have no grudge against that thief, so why would he suddenly attack me? It's obvious that he saw you behind me and used me as bait to lure you into the trap."

Although her sobbing was loud, her words were clear and could be heard by everyone.

Feng Twelve paused for a moment and said, "I'm glad you're okay."

Ever since he escaped from danger and returned here, everyone, whether they cared about him or not, came forward to say hello.

At this time, a group of people gathered around the two of them. Hearing Feng Twelve's gentle response, the Seventh Prince scratched his face and asked the people behind him in a low voice: "Why is Twelve speaking so nicely?"

It's no wonder he felt uncomfortable, as most of the people present had bright expressions on their faces.

At this time, Fang Tong said, "I am just a common woman. Hurting me is a small matter. But there are so many royal relatives at the banquet today. How could the thief be so bold as to carry out a weapon and commit a crime? Is there someone behind the scenes instructing him?"

As soon as these words were spoken, everyone thought to themselves, yes, assassinating a member of the royal family in public is a capital crime, and that assassin named Jiawu is so arrogant, it must not be just for personal grudges.

Jiawu was originally an assassin from Bai Niao Pavilion. It was only natural for him to do things for money. Jiawu took the initiative to surrender himself to the Dali Temple. I'm afraid it was premeditated. No one knows who the mastermind behind him was, and whether there were other targets he wanted to assassinate besides Feng Twelve.

After Liu Yin’s previous commotion, some people suspected that he was targeting Feng Twelve and the Crown Prince. Now that Feng Twelve had been assassinated, even more suspicions were aroused.

Having said that, when the Dali Temple tied up Jiawu, they didn't even notice that he had a weapon on him. Whether it was negligence or intentional, this alone was enough to get Liu Yin fired.

Liu Yin naturally knew better than anyone what consequences he would face. Seeing that Jiawu was still resisting stubbornly, he made up his mind, drew his sword, and rushed towards the opponent.

There was a clanging sound, and the knife in Liu Yin's hand suddenly fell to the ground. He stepped back several steps and fell on his back.

The yamen runner closest to him saw that a dagger was stuck in Liu Yin's heart.

Liu Yin widened his eyes, raised his hand and pointed forward, his throat gurgled twice, his head tilted, and he died.

With a cry of surprise, Jiawu kicked away the guards who were chasing him, climbed over the railing of the platform, and leaped down.

There was a "plop" sound and water splashed everywhere.

Jiawu's figure rose and fell in the water several times, and then disappeared in a blink of an eye.

"Ran?"

After hearing the guard's report, Feng Yuyang looked towards the other side of the platform and asked, "Liu Sizhi is dead too?"

"Yes," the guard said, "Liu Sizhi was stabbed in the heart by that man and died on the spot."

Feng Yuyang was silent for a while and closed his eyes slightly.

"His Royal Highness—"

"This is your party," Feng Yunxi interrupted him before he could finish. "Just do whatever you want. Twelve is still injured and can't stay here for long. I'll take him back."

He was always mild-tempered, but at this moment he did not say a word. Seeing that the medical officer had bandaged Feng Twelve's wound, he immediately asked someone to prepare the car and took Feng Twelve and Fang Tong away.

There was no need to continue the banquet at this point, and as soon as everyone saw the prince leave, they all said goodbye to Feng Yuyang.

Soon, only the guards who were cleaning up the mess and a corpse were left on the platform.

Hundreds of calligraphy and paintings were hung in the air, some black, some white, fluttering in the wind.

Feng Yuyang walked slowly to the edge of the platform with a cane, looking at the calm lake below, his eyes gradually turning cold.