Chapter 43: The Nail

Zhao Ang looked at him, a faint, chilly smile curving the corner of his mouth. "You've arrived right on cue."

Yang Mu remained unmoved. His gaze shifted between Zhao Ang and Lv Chuan, finally coming to rest on the short blade in Zhao Ang's hand.

"Your Lordship, let him go," Yang Mu said in a low voice.

Zhao Ang raised an eyebrow, the smile on his lips deepening.

"General Yang, why so tense? As you can see, this General Lv Chuan was just about to carve a new smile across my throat."

A flash of cold light crossed Yang Mu's eyes, but it was quickly concealed.

He stepped forward, speaking in a deep voice, "His Lordship speaks truly. This man is indeed a planted mole within our ranks. Had Your Lordship not exposed him personally, I fear we would have been kept completely in the dark today."

Hearing this, Lv Chuan's expression altered drastically. He hurriedly blurted out, "Yang Mu, you're talking nonsense! It was clearly Zhao Ang who wanted to frame me and provoke infighting within the Black Tiger Army! You..."

Before he could finish, the short blade in Zhao Ang's hand pressed a fraction closer, instantly silencing Lv Chuan, whose eyes filled with terror.

"Yang Mu," Zhao Ang began slowly, his low voice laced with a hint of mockery, "I must ask, how are you so certain he is a mole?"

Yang Mu's gaze darkened slightly. After a brief silence, he replied, "Though the Black Tiger Army belongs to the Defense Commissioner, enemy agents have been slipping through our ranks for years. Clues had already confirmed that Lv Chuan was communicating with the enemy. It is only because we failed to secure hard evidence in time that he almost succeeded."

As he spoke, Yang Mu gestured for the soldiers behind him to surround the tent.

His gaze, sharp as a falcon's, carried a tangible weight as it fell upon Lv Chuan.

"Lv Chuan, what else do you have to say for yourself?"

Struggling to maintain his composure, Lv Chuan shouted angrily, "Yang Mu, this is a frame-up! The young lord was just sent to the military camp, yet he instantly singled me out—this is clearly a trap the two of you hatched together!"

"A trap hatched together?"

Hearing this as if it were the most absurd joke in the world, Zhao Ang let out a sudden, amplified laugh, though his eyes remained as cold as ice blades.

He relaxed his grip slightly on the hand pinning Lv Chuan, instead using the tip of his dagger to gently lift the man's chin.

His tone was unhurried, carrying a touch of teasing irony: "Lv Chuan, you make it sound so effortless. Did you truly believe that with your paltry skills, you were worth General Yang and me joining forces to deal with you?"

His tone held a trace of casual mockery, yet the underlying chill froze the very air inside the tent.

Was this really the behavior of a reckless, spoiled heir?!

Lv Chuan's lips trembled. He wanted to retort, but words failed him. Zhao Ang's words struck like a heavy blow, shattering his final facade of defense.

His face turned even paler, and cold sweat dripped relentlessly down his forehead.

He glanced at the blade's edge and made a slight movement, but Zhao Ang instantly suppressed him with vigilant force.

"Yang Mu," Zhao Ang suddenly called out. His voice was low and hard, like a sharp blade scraping across stone.

Yang Mu stepped forward and stood still. His physique was as steady and unyielding as a boulder.

He glanced at Zhao Ang, then at Lv Chuan, his expression grim.

"Kill him."

Without turning his head, Zhao Ang flicked his short blade upward, as if dealing with an utterly insignificant chore. "To prevent any future trouble."

The moment the words fell, the tent plunged into a dead silence.

It was as if all sound had been drained from the world, leaving only Zhao Ang's cold command echoing in Lv Chuan's ears.

Lv Chuan was stunned at first, but then, as if realizing his fate, he began to struggle violently.

He shrieked, "Zhao Ang, you've lost your mind! You can't kill me! I am a senior general of the Black Tiger Army! You—"

In that split second, the blade's edge flickered, grazing the skin of his neck and leaving a thin line of blood.

Zhao Ang looked down at him coldly, his eyes as deep as a frozen pool. "Do not forget whose army the Black Tiger Army truly is."

Lv Chuan was instantly choked for words. He opened his mouth, but not a single sound came out.

Yang Mu frowned slightly, as if pondering something.

Instead of executing the command immediately, he asked in a deep voice, "Your Lordship, isn't doing this... a bit too direct? After all, he is a senior general of the Black Tiger Army. I fear this might cause a degree of unrest within the ranks."

Zhao Ang gave a light laugh, a hint of disdain crossing his brow.

"Unrest? Yang Mu, you are being far too modest. Backed by the prestige of the Defense Commissioner, you have established plenty of authority within the Black Tiger Army over the years. Lv Chuan is nothing more than a clown playing a part. With him dead, who would dare speak up for him?"

Zhao Ang's words were spoken lightly, yet they caused a subtle tremor in Yang Mu's heart.

Raising his eyes to look at Zhao Ang, Yang Mu found the young man's gaze as calm as still water. At that moment, he felt as though he were looking at a true ruler—a destined warlord rising amidst a chaotic world.

Yang Mu cupped his fists and said, "This subordinate obeys."

He turned around and drew the long saber from his waist, its edge gleaming with a lethal, frigid light in the dim candlelight of the tent.

He walked toward Lv Chuan step by step, each footfall landing on the man's heart like a heavy hammer.

"No, no! General Yang! Yang Mu! I haven't communicated with the enemy! I am innocent!"

Lv Chuan thrashed about frantically, his voice now laced with tears.

Yang Mu's movements did not falter in the slightest.

He raised his saber high, the blade flashing like lightning as it descended straight down.

Lv Chuan's eyes reflected the chilling gleam, followed by a muffled thud as the blade pierced straight through his throat.

His body gave a violent shudder before collapsing limply.

His eyes remained wide open, filled with a mixture of resentment and utter despair.

Fresh blood gushed from the wound on his neck, quickly staining the carpet of the tent.

The tent was dead silent, save for the faint flickering sound of the candlelight.

Yang Mu sheathed his saber, flicking away the residue of blood before locking it back into place.

He turned, cupped his fists toward Zhao Ang, and reported, "Your Lordship, the matter has been taken care of."

Zhao Ang nodded, his gaze resting on Lv Chuan's corpse. His expression betrayed neither joy nor anger.

He narrowed his eyes slightly, as if deep in thought.

Inside the tent, Zhao Ang stared at Lv Chuan's corpse on the ground, falling into a brief silence.

The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows across his face, making him look like an indifferent, icy statue.

A faint scent of blood lingered in the air, sending a chill down the spine.

"Yang Mu," Zhao Ang spoke slowly. "Pass down my order: not a word of tonight's events is to leave this tent."

With a solemn expression, Yang Mu dropped to one knee, cupped his fists, and replied, "This subordinate understands. Not a single detail will be leaked."

Zhao Ang raised his eyes, sweeping them over the other personal guards in the tent.

He looked at each of them one by one, raising his voice slightly: "All of you, listen well. If anyone proves loose-lipped tonight, do not blame me for disregarding old ties. The Black Tiger Army has never tolerated those with divided loyalties!"

Hearing this, the guards dropped to their knees in unison and shouted, "This subordinate understands! We swear to guard this secret with our lives!"

With a cold snort, Zhao Ang turned and paced to the corner of the tent. He reached out, lifted the flap, and stared out into the ink-black night sky.

His figure stood tall and straight as a blade. A sliver of moonlight pierced through the heavy, oppressive clouds, spilling over him and etching out a stern, sharp silhouette.

"Zhou Qi's reach is growing longer by the day," Zhao Ang murmured to himself, his tone laced with mockery.

"He wishes to drive a wedge between the Black Tiger Army and the imperial court, even going so far as to orchestrate this farce. What a pity that such petty tricks can never stir up a real tempest."