Chapter 391: The Martial Warrior System

As Cao Mingzhi reaches Henwell’s side, he immediately ducks behind him.

The black-clad pursuers halt cautiously. One of them, brandishing a blade, bows slightly and says, “Friend, this has nothing to do with you. Don’t try to be a hero. Your life is your own. No matter how much wealth or status you have, the only thing you truly enjoy is your own life. Take your people and leave, we’ll pretend we never saw you. No one will come looking for trouble afterward.”

Henwell ignores him and instead asks Number Eight, “Should I step in?”

The steward bows respectfully. “Please forgive me, Young Master Henwell. These petty thieves don’t warrant your involvement.”

Then his expression darkens as he signals the guards. “Kill them!”

At the command, six guards leap forward, blades drawn, charging the assassins.

In a swift clash of steel, several killers fall in just one exchange.

Only then does Cao Mingzhi realize the elite nature of Henwell’s guards. He instinctively asks, “May I ask who you are? To have such formidable guards… Are they Martial Warriors nearing Entry Rank? Are you affiliated with the government? I am Cao Mingzhi, son of Cao Yu, Left Vice Minister of the Ministry of Works. Thank you for saving my life!”

The Tudor Dynasty’s professional system is straightforward, centered on the Martial Warrior hierarchy.

There is only one Martial Warrior system. While magical arts exist, they rarely appear in the world.

An Entry Rank Martial Warrior is akin to a knight. The Second Rank corresponds to a Battle Knight, and the Grand Knight is comparable to a Third Rank Martial Warrior.

Henwell’s unique Iron Knight style likely surpasses even a Fourth Rank Martial Warrior in combat strength.

Among common martial artists, the so-called supreme masters barely reach Fourth Rank Martial Warrior level.

True experts are found in noble families, and the greatest noble family is the royal house.

They learn both literary and martial arts, serving the emperor’s family.

Among the eighteen great houses of the Tudor Dynasty, each hosts a Fourth Rank Martial Warrior as protector.

How many Fifth Rank Martial Warriors exist? That’s a closely guarded secret outsiders cannot know.

However, a few Fifth Rank Martial Warriors are known throughout the realm.

The current crown prince guards the frontier with unmatched martial prowess.

The chief of the Ministry of Justice’s detectives, the leader of the Wind-Catching Guard, the grand marshal of the Southern Regions, the commander of the imperial Dragon Guard, the vanguard general of the Forbidden Army, and the chief steward of the imperial household—

All are recognized as Fifth Rank Martial Warriors, true peerless masters of their time.

Henwell’s steward, Number Eight, is a Second Rank Martial Warrior, just like the two guards who were drawn away and are now locked in fierce combat on the pier.

Top-tier Martial Warriors aren’t that common. Among Henwell’s eight mute guards, only two who stay close to him have reached Entry Rank.

The rest haven’t quite made Entry Rank yet, but they’re close.

Thanks to their seamless teamwork, they’re not far behind Entry Rank Martial Warriors in effectiveness.

In this assassination attempt, the killers deployed four Second Rank Martial Warriors and ten Entry Rank Martial Warriors.

Right now, all of them are occupied battling the two Second Rank swordsmen, leaving no time to deal with this side of the fight.

When Cao Mingzhi deliberately mentions his identity, Henwell understands he’s seeking protection.

Henwell bows slightly. “Since you’re kin to a government official and are being hunted by villains, as subjects of the dynasty, we naturally cannot stand by idly!”

Cao Mingzhi looks at Henwell in surprise. “Aren’t you affiliated with the government? Or are you a friend from the martial world?”

Henwell shakes his head. “My origins are humble, nothing worth mentioning. Rest assured, today we won’t let these villains harm you again!”

At that moment, the assassins finally notice the tough opposition on Cao Mingzhi’s side.

They quickly send a group over, determined to wipe out the threat completely.

Leading them is a Second Rank Martial Warrior, wielding twin blades, charging forward first.

Number Eight snorts coldly. “Persistent ghosts. Even after being exposed, they just won’t quit.”

With that, Number Eight leaps to meet the Second Rank Martial Warrior, his long blade flashing as he blocks the charge.

Henwell grabs another handful of melon seeds from the fruit tray inside the carriage and tells the two Entry Rank guards beside him, “Go help Number Eight! I’m fine here.”

The two guards hesitate briefly but then draw their blades and rush into the fray, each intercepting an Entry Rank assassin.

The remaining six guards form a defensive formation, blocking two Entry Rank killers and holding off several ordinary assassins.

Watching Henwell leisurely cracking sunflower seeds, Cao Mingzhi can’t help but remind him, “There are so many villains, aren’t you going to help?”

Henwell shrugs. “I’m as weak as a kitten. I can’t fight, so even if I join in, I wouldn’t be any help.”

Cao Mingzhi glances at Henwell’s broad, solid frame—like a wooden door plank, and doesn’t know what to say.

Weak? With that build, whether or not he has martial skills, just raw strength alone would be enough to tear apart tigers and leopards!

But since Henwell clearly doesn’t want to get involved, Cao Mingzhi, seeking refuge, decides not to press further.

Seeing that Henwell’s side is holding off so many assassins, the remaining killers grow restless but feel powerless.

They can’t spare anyone else to reinforce the fight.

Those two Second Rank swordsmen are formidable; one-on-one, they’re no match for two swordsmen.

Only by using three Second Rank Martial Warriors can they keep them tied down.

Two minutes later, Henwell flicks his finger, sending a dried fruit flying.

It lands precisely in the back of an Entry Rank assassin’s knee, causing him to involuntarily drop to one knee.

The guards in formation seize the opportunity and swiftly finish the assassin off right there.

With one less Entry Rank assassin, the pressure on the six guards eases considerably, and the danger subsides.

The assassin’s death rattles a nearby Entry Rank assassin. Losing focus in battle is fatal.

The Entry Rank guard fighting him immediately launches a fierce assault, completely overwhelming his opponent.

A minute later, the assassin can’t hold on any longer; with a scream, he falls dead on the spot.

This sets off a chain reaction. Freed Entry Rank guards quickly join nearby battle circles.

Within the next two minutes, the remaining three Entry Rank assassins are cut down one by one.

In the blink of an eye, only one Second Rank assassin remains, locked in combat with Number Eight.

Now, regret floods the assassin’s heart. Tangled up, he has no chance to retreat.

After exchanging a few more blows, Henwell quietly says, “Number Eight, it’s time to head back. It’s getting late.”

At Henwell’s command, the steward’s long blade parries one of the assassin’s swords.

His left hand forms a palm strike, slapping horizontally against the opponent’s blade, sending it crashing into his chest.

Following the sword’s trajectory with his left hand, when it reaches the assassin’s chest, his fingers form a sword shape, releasing a pulse of Qi.

Taking advantage of the moment the assassin’s blade strikes him and his Qi is disrupted, the Qi pulse pierces the assassin’s chest.

Though not fatal, it stiffens the assassin’s body for a moment.

The steward’s long blade swings horizontally, successfully severing the assassin’s head.

Holding the head, the steward returns to Henwell. “Young Master, mission accomplished.”

Henwell gestures for the steward to hand the head over to Cao Mingzhi, then prepares to board the carriage and leave.