Chapter 542: The Hand
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 542: The Hand
The carriage continued its rapid flight through the increasingly narrow and complex streets.
High-quality horses and an expert driver ensured its steady progress, while a carriage body completely overhauled with powerful magic materials kept it unscathed amidst the continuous explosions.
Muen had prioritized the carriage’s structural integrity and defensive capabilities above all else, leaving the shock absorption subpar—he had even stripped some of it away to save on weight. This was a lesson learned from his previous experience being hunted: no matter how smooth or comfortable a ride was, it couldn't withstand a single blow from a Crown Bearer.
It was better to endure a rough ride than to be crushed to death. At least a few bumps wouldn't kill a man, but a Crown Bearer’s palm certainly would.
However, this made things exceptionally difficult for the noble passenger inside.
The maid, Lawenny, was faring well enough thanks to her modest cultivation, but First Prince Albert was, by Muen’s observation, a complete "blank slate"—an ordinary man with no cultivation at all.
He was in visible agony.
With almost every jolt that threatened to send his head into the ceiling, Albert felt as though his bones were being shattered and reassembled. The silk-covered cushions beneath him had never felt so useless. If Lawenny hadn't been gripping his arm to steady him, he felt he would have been shaken into a pulp by now.
Quite literally, shaken into a slurry.
"Are you alright?"
Muen, who had "wedged" himself into the carriage using his superior physical control to remain motionless, looked at the pale Albert with a hint of concern.
A healthy commoner wouldn't be killed by a carriage bouncing through the rugged streets of the Lower District, but a sickly one was a different story. Realizing Albert’s distress, Muen immediately produced a healing magic scroll to ensure the prince didn't expire right then and there.
It would be a dark comedy indeed if the Second Prince’s assassins failed to kill the First Prince, only for him to be bounced to death by Muen’s own carriage.
"I’m... I’m fine," Albert gasped, waving a hand as the vitality from the healing scroll surged through him. "I’m not that fragile yet."
"That’s good."
Muen handed the healing scroll to Lawenny, letting her channel the mana into Albert. He then pulled back the curtain slightly to observe their surroundings.
"The worst stretch of the road is almost behind us. The explosions should be stopping soon."
"You know them that well?" Albert asked, surprised.
"No, I just don't think they could possibly have planted bombs across such a vast area, no matter how resourceful they are."
Muen’s gaze shifted toward the distance.
"In fact, a large portion of those explosions just now came from explosives thrown by people hiding along the road. Only a small fraction were pre-planted. And those ambushers should be occupied by my people by now."
As if to confirm Muen’s words, the explosions outside began to taper off, and the ride grew smoother.
Once the blasts ceased entirely, they were replaced by the faint sounds of shouting, cursing, screams, and the clashing of metal—all drifting through the air alongside the scent of gunpowder and the unmistakable metallic tang of blood.
"That is..." Albert leaned in to listen.
"A Lower District specialty," Muen shrugged. "A gang war."
"It sounds massive." Albert frowned suddenly. "I think I hear the roar of magic cannons. Do the gangs in the Lower District actually possess such things?"
"Well, they’re gangs. They smuggle all sorts of things; having a magic cannon or two isn't that unusual." Muen rubbed his nose and added, "Though this is a bit beyond my expectations. Judging by the commotion, the other side must have committed every gang force they’ve recently absorbed."
"Is it serious?"
"Not exactly serious, but..." Muen spread out the heavily marked map again and suddenly cursed under his breath. "This isn't an assassination anymore. With this much noise, how is it any different from an all-out assault?"
"It seems my brother is quite clever in this regard." Albert lowered his head with a bitter, complicated smile. "He knows that as long as he successfully kills me, the chaos he’s caused today won't matter. How could an Emperor of the Empire bear the infamy of fratricide? He won't. History, after all, is written by the victors."
"He’s still a long way from being Emperor."
Muen slammed his hand onto the small table, ending the unpleasant topic. The magic stone in the ceiling brightened slightly, allowing even an ordinary person like Albert to see the routes on the map.
"Back to the point. Our biggest problem now is how to shake off their surveillance and lock-on again. If we can vanish from their sight and take these back alleys, we can reach the banquet hall in less than twenty minutes."
"But the question is how to shake them," Albert mused. "The carriage is too large a target and has too many limitations. It can't hide as easily as a person."
"Exactly. That’s the crux of it." Muen sighed.
The root of the problem was that Prince Albert was a mere mortal. If he had even a Third-Tier cultivation, they could have split up. Muen could have stayed behind to stall the enemy while others escorted the prince on foot—a much stealthier and more reliable method.
But Albert had no cultivation and couldn't even use mana, rendering most magic devices useless. Sending him on foot would likely result in him being killed by stray area-of-effect damage in the middle of a chaotic skirmish.
"If we can't break their line of sight, then this fight becomes a total—"
BOOM!
A violent lurch cut Muen off. He quickly steadied himself and threw back the front curtain. "What happened? That didn't sound like an explosion—"
He didn't get to finish his sentence.
A body, spraying warm blood, slumped slowly beside him.
It was the driver.
An arrow was buried deep in the center of his forehead. Muen could still see the lingering traces of terror and indignation on the man's face.
The sight of the flowing blood was jarring.
"Damn it, an Anti-Magic Arrow!"
Muen realized the first flaw in his meticulously prepared carriage. While the defensive arrays could cover the entire vehicle, they couldn't perfectly block specialized anti-magic weaponry without the physical reinforcement of the carriage's magic materials.
The driver had died because of that gap.
With the driver gone, the carriage’s speed plummeted. The horses, no longer under control, began to panic.
"What’s happening...?"
"Don't worry about it! Just protect yourselves!"
Muen shouted the instruction over his shoulder and immediately lunged out of the cabin, grabbing the reins.
"Hyah! Move!"
Muen snapped the reins. The sheer pressure of authority in his voice—a trait of his own power—forced the horses, which carried traces of dragon bloodline, into immediate submission. They surged forward once more.
But in those few heartbeats while the carriage had slowed, Muen’s peripheral vision caught several shadows closing in from the surroundings.
"Just as I thought," Muen whispered, finishing the thought he had started earlier. "Once we fail to lose them, this battle turns into... a contest of the hands we hold."
In a trance-like moment, the city shrouded in endless night seemed to transform into a massive card table before Muen’s eyes.
Prince Andrew sat on the opposite side, calmly tossing out a card.
Now, he seemed to sneer, it’s your turn to play.