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Now, to succeed in their plan, they needed war to break out simultaneously again at the Southern Frontier and Victory Pass, mobilizing their scattered forces across various regions to stir up internal chaos. Then, they would blame Salvador for his cruelty, claiming his actions led to widespread turmoil, and use this as justification to lead a righteous campaign.
Harvey’s visit to Westhaven was a necessary step to find Leroy. Among all the people in the enemy kingdom, he and Edmund were the most eager for war. But since Harvey couldn’t meet the king, he had to turn to Leroy.
He and Leroy had secretly formed an alliance. Leroy had one condition: to ensure Westhaven’s victory at Victory Pass. He didn’t ask for much-just the capture of Victory Pass and the relocation of its people to a nearby city. The only way to guarantee their success at Victory Pass was to kidnap Sophie and take her to Westhaven. She was the apple of Rafael’s and the Sullivan family’s eye. With her in their grasp, they could secretly threaten Rafael, preventing him from joining the war, as well as coerce the Sullivan family into withdrawing from Victory Pass. Yuvan’s suicide soldiers would be working with Icarus in their large-scale plan to capture Sophie. Her martial arts skills were formidable, so they couldn’t afford any mistakes. They had to strike swiftly and take her without delay.
Icarus was Westhaven’s greatest fighter. As long as Rafael wasn’t present, Leroy and the suicide soldiers would have no problem kidnapping Sophie.
Harvey closed his eyes. Tonight was the first step toward success, and a critical one at that. There could be no mistakes.
Leroy should be able to draw Rafael away. The negotiations were tomorrow, so the prince would be eager to probe Westhaven’s stance before that.
The plan would succeed, without a doubt.
“Your Highness.”
A knock on the door jolted Harvey upright, and he quickly recognized his wife’s voice.
Irritated, he responded coldly, “What is it?”
Heather’s anxious voice came through, “Your Highness, I just wanted to ask where you went earlier. The queen dowager sent a physician to check on you, and she knew you weren’t in the estate.”
“No need to ask so many questions. Rest for now. If there’s nothing important, don’t come near me,” Harvey replied, his voice devoid of emotion.
He was already aware of Victoria’s actions, but it didn’t matter. There was no evidence to back up any claims, nor would Salvador bother with him, a useless prince.
Even if there was suspicion, Harvey could always come up with a reasonable explanation. It was absurd that Heather was so frightened over something so trivial. While she and Melanie Sullivan were sisters, Heather lacked even a fraction of Melanie’s courage and intelligence.
Heather lingered outside the room for a long while before slowly walking away, a deep unease settling in her chest. Ever since Harvey returned home, he seemed like a different person.
There were also several unfamiliar faces in the estate. These strangers didn’t seem to regard her at all, despite the fact that she was a princess consort. When they crossed paths, they didn’t bow or step aside, walking straight past her as if she were invisible.
The sound of horses’ hooves broke the stillness of the night, their rhythm jarring in the otherwise silent streets. The cobbled roads were deserted, with the capital’s nightlife limited to the lively areas in the east and west cities, or along the river. The cheer and laughter there never reached the quiet of the southern district.
As a horse neighed, then came to a sudden halt, the air seemed to hum with an unusual tension. The light from the lanterns on the carriage didn’t reach far, and the moon was hidden behind the clouds, leaving the surroundings eerily dark.
Travis held a riding whip and had a long blade strapped to his leg. He closed his eyes, listening intently to the slightest change in the air, his ears twitching as if to catch every subtle sound.
Sophie held her whip, its length coiling at her feet like a red serpent, ready to strike. Violet gripped her sword, her index finger lightly pressing against the hilt’s opening. With a mere flick, the blade would slide free from its sheath.
In the darkness, more than ten shadowy figures descended without a sound, their feet barely disturbing the dust beneath them-a clear testament to their mastery of the Lightfoot Skill.
In an instant, Travis unleashed his battle prowess, his power like a thunderclap. He flicked the whip, drawing his blade with lightning speed. His Lightfoot Skill carried him as if he were riding the wind.
With a single leap, his blade was already slicing down toward one of the attackers. The assassin narrowly dodged the fatal blow, but the long blade still drew blood, the scent of it fueling the assassin’s bloodlust.
Inside the carriage, the two women burst through the curtains, Sophie’s long whip hissing like a striking serpent. The force of it sent two attackers reeling back.
Violet unsheathed her sword in a fluid motion. Without even pausing to twirl the blade, she stepped on Sophie’s whip and leaped forward. With her deft hands, she sent her sword dancing in the air, creating a web-like shield of light that blocked the assassins outside.
Dressed in black and masked, Icarus also wielded a long knife. Master of all eighteen martial arts techniques, he was especially deadly with his blade. He had expected that with so many people involved, capturing Sophie would be a quick and easy task. But to his surprise, even with the ten or more men and himself, their first strike had been thwarted.
It didn’t take long for him to identify their weakness. The coachman and the swordswoman were both highly skilled fighters. Those two were difficult opponents, but on the other hand, Sophie seemed weaker. If he could just tie up the other two, capturing Sophie would be easy.
He turned to face Travis, swinging his massive blade down with powerful force. When the two blades collided, he expected to cut Travis’ weapon in half. Icarus believed his blade, infused with inner force, would be as sharp and unyielding as obsidian.
A clang rang out and sparks flew. Both men felt their hands go numb, almost losing their grip on their blade handles.
Icarus knew Travis was skilled, but hadn’t expected his inner force to be so powerful. It seemed that defeating him quickly would be impossible. However, a prolonged fight was out of the question. If it dragged on, reinforcements would arrive.
Icarus signaled for the suicide soldiers to deal with Travis and Violet, then cautiously moved toward Sophie with two of his men. He planned to have her subdued within ten moves.
The flash of blades quickly surrounded Sophie. Icarus noted that her reactions were sharp, managing to dodge his long knife three times in a row. But her weapon was just a whip. How many times could she defend herself with that?
The suicide soldiers moved like lightning, their swords flashing in every direction, keeping Sophie from escaping. Icarus’ long blade descended in powerful strokes, slicing through the air. Mid-swing, he flipped it to hit her neck with the back of the knife. The force of the blow would surely knock her out cold-Icarus was determined to capture her in one swift move.
But in that fleeting moment, Sophie somehow evaded it.
Icarus froze, shock spreading through him.
What the hell? She had no way to escape, with the suicide soldiers’ swords surrounding her on both sides and his blade coming down from above. She had nowhere to run except to retreat or burrow underground.
Yet, she hadn’t moved at all-she was still standing right where she was.
Icarus hadn’t even seen how Sophie dodged the strike. He only knew that his long blade had cut through empty air. When he focused again, she was still standing there, as if she hadn’t moved an inch.
The lanterns on the carriage cast two faint glows, illuminating Sophie’s face, which seemed a little pale. Her expression, cold as frost in the biting wind, softened into a smile directed at him.
The smile sent an immediate shiver down Icarus’ spine. In fact, it wasn’t just a shiver-it was a sharp, painful jolt.
It took him a moment to realize what had happened. Her whip had lashed through the air, striking him across the face and tearing away the black cloth covering his face. He spun around in midair, swiftly covering his face again.
He leaped to the top of a wall and turned around just in time to see the red whip, coiling like a venomous snake, wrap around the neck of the suicide soldier on Sophie’s left. With a powerful tug, she yanked him into the air, her feet pushing off toward the other suicide soldier on her right.
In a smooth, fluid motion, she dragged the first suicide soldier toward the carriage. His weapon fell to the ground with a clatter. Just before it hit the earth, Sophie’s foot shot out, sending the sword flying into the air.
She flew up alongside the suicide soldier, swinging her leg horizontally. The sword arced gracefully through the air, striking the second suicide soldier and burying itself deep into his stomach.
The entire sequence unfolded in an instant. Even though Icarus had witnessed it up close, there was nothing he could do. It became clear to him now-the real threat was Sophie, not her two servants.
Grinding his teeth, Icarus charged forward, swinging his blade to sever the whip. If he didn’t, that suicide soldier would be dead.
Sophie yanked the whip, throwing the suicide soldier into the air at such a rapid speed that it nearly blurred Icarus vision. He immediately altered his course to avoid striking his own man. However, it would have been better if he hadn’t done that. The moment he changed direction, the blade bit into flesh-his long knife had cleaved the suicide soldier’s head clean off.
She had predicted the direction of his blade.
Impossible! This couldn’t be real!
His technique, Phantom Blade, was a series of deceptive moves with over a dozen variations. It was a martial arts masterpiece. In Westhaven, no one had ever escaped its reach. Obviously, no one had ever predicted the direction of his blade either.
But now, as if to mock his confidence, Sophie’s whip danced through the air like a net, casting even more sweeping shadows than Icarus’ Phantom Blade. In close combat, his massive blade was useless. Meanwhile, her whip could extend or retract, as well as switch between soft and rigid, and every move of hers aimed straight for his neck.
Barely able to lift his blade, he could only use the hilt to block, unable to land a proper strike. He struggled to defend himself, unable to even spare a glance at the others.