舍
256 BCE. The Zhou dynasty falls, eight hundred years of a single Son of Heaven end, and seven kings go to war. You are a masterless assassin, walking the roads alone. For the people, for justice, or for coin — take the contract, slip past the deepest walls, and kill the man.
256 BCE. The Zhou dynasty falls, eight hundred years of a single Son of Heaven end, and seven kings go to war.
A masterless assassin
Every assassin of that age served a lord. You serve none.
That is why you can cross from one state into the next — and why the reason you kill this man is yours alone: for the people, for justice, or for the right price.
No allies. No backup. No way out.
Slip past the deepest walls
Every layer of guards is a question, not a wall.
Cut through the front gate, or work the shadows to the last room. Most nights you will do both.
Bronze is short, heavy, blunt. Two or three hits will kill a man. That includes you.
A Warring States built from research
No pagodas, no porcelain, no paper, no chairs. Men kneel on mats, write on bamboo, and build walls out of pounded earth.
Walled wards, one gate each, markets shut at sundown, curfew enforced by law. Night patrols carry torches, not lanterns, and strike a wooden clapper as they go.
Not Japan. Not the Tang or the Song. Not wuxia. The Warring States.
