Chapter 108: Killing

Two masked men, including Jin Dongliu, who was not masked but had his face smeared with blood, all looked up in surprise upon hearing Wei Ba’s words.

“What did you say?” Jin Dongliu asked in confusion.

Wei Ba sneered coldly, brandishing the short knife in his hand and ruthlessly slashing open the big man’s wrist and Achilles tendon, completely depriving him of any ability to resist. Only then did he squat before him and slowly lift the black cloth covering the man’s face.

Sure enough, beneath it was a face, though distorted by pain, still bearing a resemblance to Wei Ba’s own.

“Zhaoming, don’t you think this brat looks a bit like me?”

Although shocked by Wei Ba’s cruel methods, Jin Dongliu was a seasoned general who had witnessed far worse on the battlefield—this was nothing. He leaned in for a closer look and indeed found the man’s face bore some similarity to Wei Ba’s. Recalling Wei Ba’s earlier mention of someone impersonating him to kill Zhuge Qiao and frame him, Jin Dongliu was taken aback. “Do you mean... he killed Zhuge Qiao?”

Wei Ba nodded, tapping the man’s face with the short knife. “Brat, isn’t that so? Bold enough to act, but no courage to confess?”

The big man, likely realizing his fate was sealed, still looked fiercely defiant. Blood trickled from his mouth as he sneered coldly, “Yes, I did it. Didn’t expect you to recognize me so quickly. Guess I misjudged you.”

Unmoved, Wei Ba slowly pressed the blade to his throat, applying steady pressure. “Since you like impersonating me so much, do it one more time.” The blade gradually slid into his neck, cold as ice.

Though ruthless and fearless of death, the big man could not withstand the blade’s close proximity. Given enough time to react, fear eventually overwhelmed his courage, and he finally let out a miserable scream, “Spare me—”

“Shut up!” The young man, who had been panting against the stone wall, suddenly shouted fiercely and charged forward, stabbing at the big man’s neck with a ringed knife, attempting to kill and silence him.

Wei Ba, though not looking at him, remained alert. Seeing the charge, he swiftly reached out with his right hand, grabbed the young man’s wrist, and twisted hard. A crisp snap broke the silence as the wrist was forcibly broken. The young man screamed in pain and jerked his arm back. Wei Ba pushed him against the stone wall with a heavy thud. The young man collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

Throughout, Wei Ba’s knife remained pressed to the big man’s throat without moving. The big man watched helplessly as his comrade’s wrist was broken by Wei Ba’s ruthless technique, his eyes wide with shock, fixed intently on Wei Ba.

“Speak. Whose subordinate are you?”

“I...” The big man hesitated briefly before Wei Ba’s knife jabbed closer, terrifying him into compliance. “We serve under the Cavalry General, tasked with intelligence gathering.”

“Who are you? And who is he? Who is the highest authority you answer to in Hanzhong? Speak quickly! If I suspect a single lie, I’ll kill you immediately.”

The big man hurriedly recounted everything. It turned out they were spies sent by Sima Yi to Hanzhong, divided into two groups. They belonged to the one responsible for violent actions—assassinations, kidnappings, and other physical tasks. Members of this group were highly skilled fighters who rarely appeared publicly, instead hiding out in a manor. The other group was less skilled in combat but excelled at blending in with the local population for intelligence gathering. The two groups seldom cooperated and were often unaware of each other’s numbers. Any joint operation had to be coordinated through the highest authority in Hanzhong, a spy known as Black Fish.

He did not know Black Fish’s real name or appearance well, having met him only once when Black Fish impersonated Wei Ba to assassinate Zhuge Qiao. Black Fish was neither tall nor robust but clever; the idea to impersonate Wei Ba and kill Zhuge Qiao was his. The plan to kidnap Jin Dongliu and Wei Ba was also orchestrated by him.

“Why kill Zhuge Qiao? Why frame me?” Wei Ba pressed.

“Killing Zhuge Qiao was merely a cover. Framing you was the real goal. Zhuge Qiao’s death was just an unexpected gain for us,” the big man confessed, having lost all courage under Wei Ba’s pressure, soiling himself in the foul-smelling cave. “Your father Wei Yan and your master Zhao Yun are the two generals we fear most. Remove them, and your Shu-Han becomes insignificant—mediocre and not worth mentioning.”

Slowly, Wei Ba pieced it together—it aligned with Zhuge Liang’s suspicions. Both he and Zhuge Qiao were pawns, with the true objective being to incite internal strife within the Jing-Xiang faction. The motive was to eliminate threats to Cao Wei. Whether this involved the Bashu faction within Shu Han was unclear. Such matters were beyond the knowledge of a mere operative.

Having extracted the information, Wei Ba met the big man’s pleading gaze with a faint smile. “I said, since you enjoy impersonating me, please do it again.”

The big man was stunned and opened his mouth to shout. Before he could utter a sound, Wei Ba’s blade sliced through his neck, silencing his furious roar.

“You brat, you break your word.”

Wei Ba turned to the young man who had just regained consciousness, smiling dismissively. “When did I say I’d spare him?”

The young man was speechless. From what he heard, Wei Ba never hinted at mercy.

Wei Ba approached, casually slicing the young man’s Achilles tendon and wrist. The young man cried out in terror, “Kill me, then! You won’t get a single word from my lips!”

Wei Ba was surprised. “When have I ever wanted words from you? You’re just a minor leader in the task force. How much more could you possibly know than him?”

“Then you...” the young man stammered.

“I just want to have some fun,” Wei Ba said, lightly cutting the tendons in his hands and feet with swift precision. Then, leisurely, he lifted the blood-stained black cloth from the young man’s face, revealing a twisted expression.

“Want to die?”

“Kill me then. Since I’m a spy, I’m not afraid of death.”

Wei Ba shrugged. “I never said you feared death. I only asked if you wanted me to do it cleanly?”

The young man was close to madness. He had never looked Wei Ba in the eye before. To him, Wei Ba was about the same age and had recently gained merit, but compared to a seasoned spy like himself, Wei Ba lacked the cunning and experience. In combat skills, he was no match for the big man either. Wei Ba was only kept alive to aid their escape from Hanzhong. He never expected Wei Ba to suddenly rise up and seize control so decisively.

Looking back, Wei Ba must have planned to have the big man carry Jin Dongliu all along. Yet the self-proclaimed clever young man had been utterly unalert. The difference in their wits was profound, and his confidence crumbled swiftly. Having researched Wei Ba’s background, he could not fathom how a noble’s son could possess such deep cunning.

“Don’t ask me. I know nothing,” the young man trembled, teeth chattering uncontrollably.

“That’s alright. I have enough patience.” Wei Ba sat beside him, pulling a piece of cooked dog meat from a bundle on the ground. Taking a bite, he chewed slowly while slicing the young man’s thigh with the knife.

“Ah!” Though the wound was shallow, the young man screamed in terror.

Undeterred, Wei Ba slid the blade to the knee and struck sharply.

A sharper, more agonized scream echoed through the cave.

Jin Dongliu, who had spoken little, looked at Wei Ba as if seeing a stranger, his cheek twitching uncontrollably with the young man’s screams. The deaths of one or two spies were no great matter to him, but Wei Ba’s brutality unsettled even this battle-hardened general.

To kill an enemy from afar with a single arrow and to slowly carve into one’s flesh at close quarters, watching blood flow and hearing screams—these were entirely different experiences.

When Wei Ba had stripped half the skin from the young man’s knee, Jin Dongliu could endure no longer.

“Wei Ziyu, just end it quickly. I know that Black Fish.”

“You know him?” Wei Ba was surprised. “How does a commanding general know a spy leader?”

“It was by chance. I met him once.” Jin Dongliu sighed. “Do you remember the first time you saw that maid beside you?”

Wei Ba paused, then nodded. “Yes, you were indeed uneasy then. I thought you were either scared by the bluish mark on her face or secretly admired my noble character.”

Jin Dongliu cracked a wry smile but didn’t laugh. Lowering his head, he said, “Black Fish looks somewhat like that maid.” He hesitated, then added, “Without the mark, they’d be about seventy percent alike. He might also be Peng Yang’s son.”

Wei Ba’s eyes darted, blurting out, “Impossible. Peng Xiaoyu had no siblings.”

“I don’t know. All I know is Black Fish harbors deep hatred for Zhuge Liang.” Jin Dongliu smiled faintly. “You should have guessed—if not for the spies tailing Zhuge Qiao, how else could they have seized such a perfect opportunity? To kill Zhuge Qiao and pin the blame on you.”

Wei Ba lifted his head, eyes narrowing before breaking into a laugh. “So you knew all along and kept it from me. Kid, I always thought you were honest—didn’t expect you to be this devious.”

Jin Dongliu was speechless. This wasn’t deviousness; it was common sense. “We’re enemies. If I didn’t pity my comrades suffering under you, I wouldn’t have told you any of this.”