Ji Xuan's eyes snapped open.
He could not believe that, here in the present day, in Song Hengjiang's waning, decrepit twilight years, the old man would dare to utter such words, put forward such a demand!
The tyranny of Song Hengjiang he had of course long known.
The power of Song Hengjiang he had likewise gathered from rumor after rumor.
But need it come to this?
Dared Song Hengjiang humiliate him, Ji Xuan?
Even the Chancellor of State, even the Grand General, had never treated him with such an attitude.
For a single instant, he could not believe this was real.
But looking into Song Hengjiang's eyes.
Those eyes, previously murky and clouded, now blazing with a sharp light.
He was compelled to believe that this was real.
This was Song Hengjiang's condition.
Because he was Song Hengjiang!
...
Within the borders of the State of Zhuang, Zhuang Chengqian held dominion over the land, and Song Hengjiang held dominion over the waters. This was the founding covenant of the State of Zhuang!
In theory, the Water Lord of the Clear River stood level with the Sovereign of the State of Zhuang.
The whole eight hundred li of Clear River was Song Hengjiang's domain of rule. Both banks of the Clear River lay under Song Hengjiang's jurisdiction.
Seizing on this transgression of boundary, Song Hengjiang would be wholly justified in killing him.
Ji Xuan understood that the Prefect of Clear River County would not step in, the lords of Riverview City and Maple City would not step in, and even the court of Zhuang Ting would not send anyone to step in.
Because the moment any of them stepped in, the very nature of the matter would change. What was now can be called Ji Xuan's personal overstepping of bounds, would then become Zhuang Ting pressing its strength upon a man. The war between the human race and the water race within the State of Zhuang would be inevitable.
The State of Zhuang could by no means bear such a price — not only for the vast losses that internal strife would cause, but for all the contradictions between the water folk and the human folk of the whole present world that would spread, or perhaps ignite, from it.
The State of Zhuang could not bear that responsibility.
Did Song Hengjiang want to kill him?
Plainly not. If he did, he would have no need to waste words — he could have simply struck. Ji Xuan was, after all, a high official of the Zhuang Ting court. Were he killed, it would mean that the contradictions between the Clear River's water folk and Zhuang Ting had already become irreconcilable.
The Clear River Water Palace, in particular, had no wish to be the one to ignite a war, for the Clear River Water Palace was still the weaker side.
But did Song Hengjiang dare to kill him?
There was no need even to imagine that question.
No weighing of advantage and loss, no reckoning of consequences.
That red upon the Yan River had not yet faded to this day — that was the answer Song Hengjiang had given to every opponent he had.
Then—could Song Hengjiang still kill him, or not?
He, Ji Xuan, had five palaces complete, at the very height of his prime, a single step short of the fourth rank's Outer Tower realm.
Several hundred years ago, the power of Song Hengjiang was beyond dispute. But several hundred years later, in this age when everyone knew his lifespan was nearly spent, how much fighting strength remained in him?
After a long, hard-to-bear silence.
"Smack!"
"Smack!"
"Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!"
Ten full sounds, not one missing.
Ji Xuan held nothing back. Since he had already resolved to accept such a shameful thing, he would not go on dithering, and so provoke mockery for no gain.
To slap his own face and yet leave the man unsatisfied — he would not do such a foolish thing.
As the sound of the slaps drew to an end, that lean, spare face of Ji Xuan's could be seen swelling high, rising visibly before the eye.
He watched Song Hengjiang in silence, awaiting his response.
Song Hengjiang's eyelids drooped. As though he had sunk back into his candle-in-the-wind decrepitude.
He seemed to struggle even to speak, merely lifting a hand.
"Go."
And then he turned away.
He, Song Hengjiang, was not one for lingering over a matter. Since Ji Xuan had yielded and accepted the penalty, he would not go on humiliating him again and again.
With this evening's journey, his attitude had been made clear enough. What came next would depend on how that Sovereign of the State of Zhuang, enthroned deep within the palace, would react.
The wave carried him back down into the Clear River, and the surface of the water joined together once more.
So the angry waves leveled, the giant billows vanished, and the whole Clear River returned to calm.
Moonlight fell upon the water's surface, as if nothing at all had happened.
The evening breeze passed over, and the ripples of water spread like scattered snow.
...
From beginning to end, Ji Xuan dared not raise the matter of that Justice Enforcement Bureau cultivator pierced to death by Jiang Chen, and Song Hengjiang did not speak of that clam maiden seized and then fled back again.
Though Ji Xuan had come for just such a subordinate, though Song Hengjiang had come for just such a maiden of his domain.
Yet in the surging of those eight hundred li of Clear River's billows, they both, by silent understanding, maintained some balance beneath the surface of the water.
That was the unspoken red line that had held for centuries between the court of Zhuang Ting and the Clear River Water Palace.
When the storm of the affair had blown over, Ji Xuan stopped where he stood.
No one appeared at the scene, for no one was willing to face Ji Xuan's wrath face-to-face. But Ji Xuan knew that the humiliation he had suffered today had inevitably already fallen into certain watching eyes.
Among those great figures who shared his rank, his disgrace had unfolded in broad daylight. There was simply no way to hide it.
Yet he did not let his discomfiture show, but picked out his direction and pressed on toward the place where White Lotus had been blasted away earlier.
The matter had come to pass; his face could not be recovered. What he had to do now was keep his gains from slipping away. That strange white flame, that woman of no small skill — once taken alive, there must be gains enough to content him.
And he was certain that, in the situation of this night, between the Zhuang Ting he represented and the Clear River's water folk that Song Hengjiang represented, the air hung knife-edged and ready to snap. Whatever force lay concealed behind that woman would not dare lift its head.
So he still had hope of finding that woman lying at the edge of death.
And as he flew a hundred li back and forth, the result was, of course, that he found nothing at all.
...
As for White Lotus, blasted flying by that one fist, her whole body fell back through the air, the white flame whirling about her snuffed out, all her protective Dao arts scattered and dissolved.
She knew she had no more hope, and was about to expend the last of her strength in taking her own life.
But then, suddenly, she felt a warmth.
Her falling body was caught within a warm embrace.
Someone had caught her.
But this person was far too weak, so weak he could not even bear the leftover force Ji Xuan had blasted into her. Not only was he carried backward along with her at the very instant he caught her, but he immediately spat a mouthful of blood into her neck.
That blood was scalding hot.
Dimly, White Lotus felt the two of them fall to the ground, and roll over and over for many turns. But that person was always beneath her, and she always had a cushion of flesh.
Otherwise this lady would really have fallen apart, she thought.
This person was truly very weak.
White Lotus felt herself lifted up again soon after, and then this person was, it seemed, running. From the frequency of his gasping breath, and the fierceness of the heartbeat in his chest that reached her through bodily contact, she could tell he was trying his utmost.
But the whistling of the wind told White Lotus that the speed was terribly slow.
At this pace they would die, surely? There was simply no way to escape?
It merely meant one more person throwing their life away...
Who was this person?
How could she have such a stupid subordinate?
No, that wasn't right. Not one subordinate would be here.
They, those people, were all very clever. Very rational.
So who was this person?
Her eyelids seemed weighed with a thousand jun, and White Lotus discovered that opening her eyes was in fact such a difficult thing.
But she held her breath of resolve. She must do what she had set out to do.
So. Open the eyes.
White Lotus forced her eyes open, and her vision wavered in a blur.
That was the jouncing and jolting of running.
She forced her spirit to focus, collecting her sight. From that angle under his jaw, at last she made out this person's face.
His chin was slightly round, not pointed. His lips, spilling blood, pressed firmly shut; his nose was straight and high; a pair of clear bright eyes stared straight ahead.
Ah, it was Jiang Chen. She thought.
And then she fell into complete unconsciousness.