Tang Dynasty Bandits

Chapter 232 The Death of Gao Yan
The flesh on Gao Yan's chest had been completely ripped away by the furious soldiers of the Grass Army, leaving a bloody mess.

The pain was so intense that it felt as if there was no pain at all. Gao Yan's convulsions gradually stopped, turning into numbness towards the pain.

Zhao's second sister, clutching a small knife, walked up to Gao Yan.

Ten years ago, Zhao's eldest sister saved his life, but Gao Yan repaid kindness with enmity, beheading her and handing her head over to the court to claim credit.

Dying at the hands of the other party's sister is a fitting punishment for Gao Yan.

Gao Yan's pupils were already dilated, but he could still tell that the knife in Zhao Erniang's hand was strangely shaped. It was not the sharp knife commonly used by martial arts practitioners to cut their wrists, but a miniature knife shaped like a willow leaf.

The knife, later known as the willow-leaf knife, was a tool used by physicians to cut and dissect the bodies of patients.

Zhao's younger sister trembled, but her arms were quite steady, and she had a smile on her lips.

She gripped the knife handle, thrust it forward with all her might, and the blade grazed Gao Yan's heart.

The blade was pulled out, and drops of blood dripped from it.

“Gao Yan, I want to tell you a story,” Zhao Erniang began to say to herself.

"The ancestor of the Zhao clan of Tianshui, Zhao Chongguo, a famous general of the Western Han Dynasty, made a famous prediction that the Zhao clan would prosper a thousand years later."

Gao Yan had certainly heard of this prophecy. As a member of a powerful family, how could he not have friends from the Zhao family of Tianshui?

Zhao Erniang's smile carried a hint of cruelty: "Then do you know that Yuan Tiangang, a master of divination in the early years of the dynasty, once commented on this prophecy?"

"Yuan Tiangang believed that although the prophecy was accurate, it should not have been about the scions of the powerful Zhao family of Tianshui, but rather about the Zhao family members from humble backgrounds."

"Either a man surnamed Zhao rises from humble beginnings to establish a dynasty that lasts a long time. Or a woman surnamed Zhao gives birth to an heir for the founding emperor, becoming a member of the imperial family like the Dou family of the Han Dynasty, enjoying glory and prosperity along with the nation."

Gao Yan felt a chill run down his spine.

The intense pain and continuous blood loss made it impossible for him to think rationally anymore.

The name Yuan Tiangang is so famous that it's easy to believe anything associated with him.

"When my sister was young, a famous fortune teller examined her face and calculated her birth date, deeming her destined for greatness. Yet, she received no wealth or honor, and was instead cruelly murdered and died a tragic death by you, you ungrateful wretch. Gao Yan, think carefully about why this is."

After saying that, Zhao Erniang turned around and left quickly without looking back.

During Huang Chao's southward march, he recruited many Ming Cult remnants like Zhao Erniang in the Jianghuai region to replenish the army's talent pool.

Zhao Erniang already had some medical knowledge, and not long ago she became a disciple of the Immortal Physician Luo, which further improved her medical skills.

She stabbed Gao Yan in the lining of his heart, making sure the blood would only seep out slowly. Gao Yan would be tied to a wooden frame and wait for death in despair for three long hours.

The bandits had all left, leaving only the dying Gao Yan and Han Ping's mangled corpse on a nearby wooden pillar in this desolate mountain valley.

Zhao Erniang's words were sharper than her knife.

In despair, Gao Yan was forced to consider whether his decision ten years ago had truly ruined a woman's great fortune, and consequently, his own.

But the kind of person he is is incapable of self-reflection or admitting his mistakes. Even when faced with death, he will only complain and blame fate for its injustice.

This leads to the only possible conclusion.

Gao Yan, you are not some chosen one; you are merely a doomed star destined for failure, which is why you ended up like this. A true chosen one will not die before achieving great things.

Even if a woman who might give birth to an imperial heir comes to you, you will only ruin her, and in doing so, ruin yourself.

As he lost blood, Gao Yan's body grew colder and colder, and he truly felt the fear of death.

His soul seemed to tremble, adrift and helpless, like a candle flickering in the wind, about to vanish from this world.

So, what Zhao's second sister said is true. This is my fate. Even if heaven sent me a dragon robe, I wouldn't have the fortune to wear it. It wasn't Zhu Wen who tore the dragon robe, nor Lai Fu, but myself…

In the moment before his consciousness faded, Gao Yan had one last thought in his mind.

His last thoughts, left in this world, were: So, I'm just the son of a prostitute, even lower than Lai Fu, but I'm not resentful…

Gao Yan's head lolled to the side, and he breathed his last, dying with his eyes wide open.

The valley was deserted, the wild grass withered, and the night wind blew over his and Han Ping's corpses, stirring up their exposed flesh and blood, creating a desolate scene.

Soon, a flock of crows will come to peck at the remains of Gao Yan and Han Ping, and flies and maggots will multiply on their bodies.

But many years later, someone will come to this desolate valley again and see the scattered bones left behind by Gao Yan. By then, his story will have been forgotten and forgotten.

Those who see Gao Yan's remains might mistake him for a traveler attacked by a wild beast in the deep mountains, never imagining that a burning ambition had been silently buried in the empty valley.

Qian Liu felt a burning pain all over his body.

During the rout, he was shot at from horseback by Ding Hui, Deng Xuan, and others, with more than a dozen arrows piercing his body.

Although Qian Liu managed to seize a horse, the confusion brought on by the rout made him flee in a panic, without knowing where to go.

When the mountain wind cleared his head, he realized that there was a deep ravine more than ten feet deep in front of him.

A chilling aura rose from the ravine, brushing against my face, its coldness biting to the bone.

Several more herdsmen cavalrymen caught up from behind.

Qian Liu was seriously injured and was no match for them; he could only wait for his death.

At that moment, a strong sense of resentment welled up in his heart.

Fame, fortune, imperial ambitions—none of it matters when life and death are at stake.

But Qian Liu still didn't want to die.

A girl is still waiting for him by the Qiantang River, hoping he will return and marry her.

He had made a promise with her that they would admire the flowers along the roadside together every year.

Qian Liu was often compared to his senior fellow apprentice Yang Xingmi.

Compared to the unremarkable-looking Qian Liu, Yang Xingmi was exceptionally handsome, highly skilled in martial arts, and possessed unparalleled wisdom, seemingly surpassing Qian Liu in every way.

People say that Qian Liu is like a sparrow compared to his senior brother, while Qian Liu is like a phoenix.

Qian Liu never got angry and simply laughed off these remarks.

“I, Qian Liu, am simply unique, unlike anyone else. Everyone is an extraordinary being, with their own unique life journey. If my senior brother surpasses me, I accept it; why should I compete?”

Qian Liu smiled broadly and replied.

People liked his answer, which was neither arrogant nor self-deprecating, and thought that Qian Liu was also a remarkable young man.

But the reason Qian Liu was able to not be jealous of his senior brother at all was that there was a girl who accepted and loved everything about him. When he was down, she would hold his face in her hands and tell him, "You are so unique, and you are my one and only love."

"I can't die..."

Another arrow struck Qian Liu in the back.

The excruciating pain unleashed his potential; Qian Liu suddenly unleashed a powerful force from his arm, urging his horse forward.

The horse looked like an ordinary steed, which Qian Liu had just snatched in the chaos, and he wasn't familiar with it.

But at that moment, a gleam like dragon scales suddenly burst forth in the horse's eyes.

It suddenly raised its two front hooves, neighed, and leaped into the air carrying Qian Liu.

Qian Liu felt as if he were floating on clouds. When he came to his senses, the deep ravine, which was more than two zhang wide, was already left behind.

The pursuers, on the other side of the ravine, stared at the wide, deep ravine, speechless and helpless.

Many years later, Qian Liu, who had become the King of Wuyue, often told people about this story.

By then, the horse that had saved his life had long since died in Hangzhou, its grave already overgrown with trees.

Qian Liu built a temple for it and worshipped it as the Horse God. The people admired King Qian and people came to worship it in all four seasons.

Qian Liu would think of Gao Yan, that incredibly talented and ruthless young man. If he were still alive, he might have spent his entire life working for him.

There may truly be an unpredictable destiny in this world.

The girl he loved now had gray hair and a face full of wrinkles, but Qian Liu's love for her remained unchanged.

The people of Liangzhe all know that whenever the Queen of Wuyue returned to her hometown to visit relatives, King Qian would always write her a letter filled with such deep longing—

"The flowers are blooming along the path; you may slowly return home."

(End of this chapter)