Chapter 144: Slapping the Emperor's Face

The armchair strategists on the sidelines were just like hindsight-driven critics; everything they spoke of was "the truth," at least on the surface.

Didn't the way Zhao Zhen rode his horse clearly show that he hadn't used his full strength, contrary to what they claimed?

Many clever people wanted to place new bets, but the bookmaker wasn't foolish either. He allowed betting, but the odds were changed to one-to-one.

"Why have the odds changed?" someone asked.

"Not change them? If I don't change them, I'll lose everything!" the bookmaker answered honestly.

In fact, he was already losing right now. Just imagining Zhao Zhen winning after he had offered odds of one hundred to one made him want to slap himself twice.

Of course, the outcome wasn't certain yet. He only hoped Zhao Zhen would lose... No, no, a draw would be best. Nobody had bet on a draw, so he would win everything.

However, a draw? Heh, expecting two horses to tie was absolute nonsense in this era. Since there were neither surveillance cameras nor motion-capture photography, how could a tie even be proven?

Furthermore, a Blood-Sweating Steed ran like the wind. The sprint speed of a Blood-Sweating Steed reached sixty kilometers per hour. Meanwhile, a northern horse—such as the famous Mongolian horse—could travel sixty kilometers in eight hours of walking, which was the most normal traveling pace for a Mongolian horse. Therefore, in ancient times, relay stations had to be established for delivering official documents and other needs. Generally, the speed for urgent official dispatches was three hundred *li* per day, and the fastest urgent dispatches reached six hundred *li* per day.

However, the express deliveries through these post stations were not run by a single horse, but rather relayed by changing horses while keeping the rider the same.

Now, let's talk about Tang Renxian's horse. It was indeed a fine horse, but a steed that could travel a thousand *li* a day?

Heh, the Khitans were not fools. How could a true thousand-*li* steed ever be allowed to enter Song territory?

Tang Renxian's horse looked as though its four hooves were moving like the wind, but once a Blood-Sweating Steed truly started running, the gap became apparent.

Closing in, getting closer, continuously closing the distance... It was about to catch up.

"Is this fake?" Shen Yuejiao was dumbfounded. Tang Renxian's horse was a northern horse, a fine breed in the eyes of the Khitans. She had seen with her own eyes her Brother Renxian defeat the Khitans. Yet now, why was this happening?

"Oh! It's overtaking him," someone suddenly exclaimed.

"What? It's overtaking him."

Shen Yuejiao's heart shattered. Not because of the money, but because Tang Renxian was losing.

How could he lose? He was not supposed to lose.

"It seems that gentleman really was playing the pig to eat the tiger. All that talk about poor horsemanship was entirely an act."

The hindsight critics were smug.

"Indeed, indeed. That gentleman even has white hair; at a glance, he's deeply cunning and sly. Young Master Tang has been set up."

However, these hindsight critics didn't have many kind words to say either, because Zhao Zhen playing the pig to eat the tiger had caused them to lose their money.

If they had guessed it from the very beginning—just look at them now—they wouldn't have been so petty; they would have praised Zhao Zhen to the heavens.

With them babbling nonsense like this, Chen Lin and the others were naturally very unhappy. If Zhao Zhen hadn't been traveling incognito, he would have surely taught this bunch of hindsight critics a lesson in how to behave.

"Damn it! I will not lose!"

Seeing himself being caught up and closed in upon, Tang Renxian was not standing idly by.

He deliberately guided his warhorse to trample over small pebbles. Such a tactic would undoubtedly severely harm the horse's hooves. But if he lost, this horse would no longer belong to him anyway. Whether its hooves were injured or not, what difference did it make?

Horses treading on small pebbles inevitably kicked up flying stones and dust.

Naturally, all of this dust and gravel struck the face of the approaching Zhao Zhen.

Yes! Right on his face. Although his body was restrained by the wind—limiting his freedom—it also acted like a suit of wind armor protecting him. Those dust particles and pebbles couldn't land on his body at all before being blown away and scattered by the wind.

Only his face. For the sake of smooth breathing, Zhao Zhen's face had no wind restraints whatsoever. With a rapid patter, everything hit it directly. Especially his beard, which immediately became clogged and filled with dust like a mass of cotton batting.

Hiss—now *that* was truly losing face. Striking the emperor's face. Well, that was not something just anyone could pull off.

For this face-slapping alone, Tang Renxian truly lived up to his name of "People's Disgust." Being able to slap the emperor's face—regardless of how it was achieved—he had struck it nonetheless.

Cheating in a horse race?

This was striking the emperor's face; could that even be called cheating? That was pure skill.

However, regardless of whether he used flying dirt or pelted him with stones, Zhao Zhen stood as steadfastly as a rock, showing no intention of falling off his horse whatsoever.

On the contrary, because of his petty tricks, forcing his horse onto the gravel-strewn path, his own speed actually slowed down.

Already inferior to the Blood-Sweating Steed to begin with, and with this delay—Overtake it! Pass it!

A Blood-Sweating Steed also possessed its own dignity. For a mediocre horse to run ahead of it in the first place had already deeply displeased the steed, and now it even dared to fling dirt at its body.

You punks! Let me show you this grandfather's true speed. The Blood-Sweating Steed launched into a full sprint.

As for looking after the person on its back, or the legendary "unity of man and horse"—what were those? It didn't understand any of it. It only knew how to run as fast as possible. The person on its back had nothing to do with it.

Seeing that only a few dozen paces remained until the finish line, the opponent's horse had already pulled ahead by a full horse's length. It was locked into a guaranteed defeat. Tang Renxian hardened his heart and directly pulled out a knife.

It was a small, curved dagger. From the style and craftsmanship of the blade, it clearly did not belong to the Central Plains.

As someone popular among the Khitans and who fancied himself capable of competing with them in horsemanship, he had inevitably been influenced by them to a greater or lesser degree. This dagger was proof of that.

Without a second thought, he hurled the knife out. Almost no one even saw his movement, but "almost no one" did not mean *literally* no one.

Shen Shi was riding along behind them, whose very purpose was to protect Zhao Zhen.

Originally, he was just an insurance measure to prevent a wild-running horse from bolting away with Zhao Zhen; he never expected in a million years that Tang Renxian would resort to drawing a blade.

At the same time, there was someone else who saw it.

That person was Zhao Zhen.

Human sixth sense is extremely sensitive; for instance, when someone is being watched secretly—even if the watcher is hiding behind—the person being watched will feel it and turn around to look.

What Tang Renxian threw was a knife. Therefore, calling it an assassination attempt was entirely justified. The imperial dragon aura sounded an alarm, and Zhao Zhen sensed it, turning his head just in time to catch sight of that chilling flash of cold light.

Zhao Zhen froze. He had no choice but to freeze; his body was currently locked firmly onto the horse. If he hadn't been secured, he would have fallen off long ago. But precisely because he was immobilized, he was entirely powerless, unable even to dodge.

His eyes scanned frantically for anyone who could save him, just as he heard Shen Shi let out a light shout:

"Slash!"

With a casual swipe of Shen Shi's hand, a sliver of true essence shot forth from his fingertips, heading straight toward the flying curved dagger.

With a crisp "clack," the knife was struck down to the ground by Shen Shi.

And in that split second, the Blood-Sweating Steed had already surged past Tang Renxian and crossed the finish line in a sprint.

After crossing the finish line, the Blood-Sweating Steed didn't stop; it just kept running. It had finally gotten into the groove. Having rarely had the chance to run like this, there was no way it would stop before having its fun.

Shen Shi patted his own kingly steed, shot forward at lightning speed, and blocked the path of the Blood-Sweating Steed.

This speed was actually even faster than the Blood-Sweating Steed, which only served to provoke the steed's pride, making it want to accelerate further. However, Shen Shi was no slouch either; he grabbed the reins with one hand while summoning the curved dagger into his other hand with a wave, threatening, "If you don't behave, this blade is going right up your rear end."