The crimson banner unfurled in full sweep; a single point of blood-red rose, and then waves of blood churned like a raging tide.
The killing aura swept out like the wind, like a sharp blade at the throat.
The loyalty, courage, fierceness, and might that the Xi family had built over several hundred years—all of it was in this banner.
But perhaps, it could only be seen within this banner.
The spectators in Green Goat Town involuntarily fell back. Only Jiang Wang stood silent and unmoving, like a reef in the sea.
The sea of blood roared and surged as Xi Zichu came treading upon the waves, right hand extended with two fingers pointing forward. A silver needle shot through the air, and before it had even crossed half the distance, it burst into ten thousand points of silver light, converging into a small silver flood dragon that pounced toward Jiang Wang.
And without a sound, flowers suddenly bloomed.
The red ones outshone fire; the green ones were like jade. A riot of colors, each vying to outshine the rest.
Amid the roaring sea of blood, a sea of flowers spread out, blooming in silence.
One silence worth a thousand roars.
The little silver flood dragon had only just pounced out when it stirred up a body full of petals, and then—
Bang, bang, bang, bang!
A chain of explosions.
The small silver flood dragon struggled and shrieked like a living thing, and under the chain of fiery explosions it finally shrank back into a single silver needle, falling to the ground.
The sea of flowers of today was already a sea of flame-flowers. Real and illusory interwoven, it carried power of its own. It could not be mentioned in the same breath as before.
True, Xi Zichu had made complete preparations and was giving his all. But Jiang Wang, compared to when he had slain Xi Munan, had grown stronger still.
This was precisely the greatest card Jiang Wang had held back then, when he chose not to slay Xi Zichu on the spot—for he was confident that no matter how fast Xi Zichu went, he could always go faster.
The Eastern King Valley's reputation was no empty thing, and Xi Zichu was no mediocre talent either.
As the silver needle fell, it suddenly lit up once more, turning into threads of silver light that roved about, threading through the flowers.
Of the famed Twelve Needles of the Eastern King, Xi Zichu had mastered three: the Seam-Severing Needle, the Formation-Breaking Needle, and the Life-Suspending Needle.
The Seam-Severing Needle targeted array patterns and array plates; the Formation-Breaking Needle targeted battle formations and array arts.
This silver flood dragon was the Formation-Breaking Needle.
The sea of flame-flowers, as an area-wide mystic art, was not strictly an array, but it had its commonalities.
The needle threaded through the flowers, briefly fixing a bearing within the sea of flame-flowers, allowing Xi Zichu to grasp his direction.
At the same time he pinched a hand seal, a jade-green pearl held in his mouth.
The sea of flowers' hallucinatory effect lay in a mild toxin.
As a disciple of the Eastern King Valley, Xi Zichu naturally did not fear it, and easily neutralized the toxin's hallucinations.
But the sea of flame-flowers, sublimated, with the real and illusory interwoven, could not be dispelled merely by breaking the hallucination.
It was, however, no longer enough to hinder Xi Zichu's movements.
With the confusion of bearings gone and the phantom flowers no longer a disturbance, he flew forward, and in the flick of a finger silver light flashed—a Life-Suspending Needle!
The Life-Suspending Needle was the most perilous of the Twelve Needles of the Eastern King.
The moment the needle left his hand, it was already at Jiang Wang's throat.
And Jiang Wang, right before Xi Zichu's eyes, shattered into nothing.
Xi Zichu's heart lurched in horror. The scene reminded him of Hu Shaomeng, who had once used an illusion to hold him in Jiacheng, costing him his chance to take part in the contest over the Tianqing Cloud-Ram.
Where was he?
His thoughts raced, but it was already too late.
Behind him, inside a flame-flower on the verge of opening, hid a small, exquisite mirror.
Jiang Wang leapt out from within the mirror, the Crown of Thorns flashing once above his head as he layered on the activation of Tiger-Binding!
Xi Zichu's figure froze in midair.
And Jiang Wang, from behind to fore, pressed close against his back and ran his sword through his heart.
The sea of blood ebbed; the flame-flowers withered and fell.
The scene burned itself clearly into the eyes of every onlooker.
All those brilliant colors, vanishing at last like smoke.
In the final moments of his life, Xi Zichu did not even turn his head.
He stared straight at Green Goat Town, and for an instant, he seemed lost.
The people watching the battle all felt like strangers to him,
and this little town, grown so desolate because of the plague, no longer felt quite familiar either.
Ever since the Chongxuan family had delimited the ore veins, this town had been the territory of Hu Shaomeng and his son.
However unwilling the Xi family was, they could only hold their noses and accept it.
Yet in Xi Zichu's heart, this had always been the Xi family's town. Its master had never changed; those who came and went were only passersby.
Each time he passed by here without entering—what was it he thought of, I wonder?
Watching from a distance the look in this young lord of the Xi family's eyes at his death, Dugu Xiao strangely saw no pain in them—only a wisp of lingering attachment that could not be erased.
The long sword withdrew and returned to its sheath; the body fell to the ground.
Jiang Wang reached out, pulled up the Crimson Carp-Patterned Banner, rolled it up, and stored it in his Storage Casket, then walked toward the town.
He gave only a casual instruction: "Bury him properly."
Apart from that Crimson Carp-Patterned Banner, Xi Zichu had come here all but alone.
The battle with Xi Zichu had in truth held no suspense. Jiang Wang had merely taken the opportunity to test how the Red Adornment Mirror might be used in combat; otherwise the fight could have ended even sooner. Compared to Xi Munan, Xi Zichu was more than one notch weaker. As one side waned and the other waxed, there was no way he could have lost.
Jiang Wang understood this reasoning, and Xi Zichu, surely, could not have failed to understand it either.
But he had come anyway. And he had come alone, without bringing a single expert of the Xi family.
In truth, he had come this time seeking death.
The debt of a father's murder is not one to be shared under the same sky.
He had fought with all his strength only to fulfill an obsession.
Victory would dissolve the feud; defeat would scatter his soul.
But win or lose, there was no road of survival.
For this plague that had ravaged the whole nation, both the Yang court and the people of Yang needed an accounting.
A single Xi Munan was clearly not enough.
Only by cutting off the future of the Xi family, the plague's point of origin—the family's fortune ruined, its genius dead—could the account be considered barely settled.
If Xi Zichu did not die, no one of the Xi family could ever walk out of the Kingdom of Yang.
What the man had done was to trade his efforts against the plague and his own life for a road to survival for the Xi family—to atone for the wrong Xi Munan had committed.
Only, before the Yang court could judge him, he had judged himself.
Once he had known fine carriages and beauties, flowers and strong wine.
He had enjoyed his family's glory to the full, and been shackled to his family all his life.
He had chosen between the cultivators of the healing arts and his family; he had chosen between hatred and his family... and between himself and his family, he made the same choice.
Whether that was tragedy or honor, in truth it hardly mattered.
Choosing to die on the road of blood vengeance was perhaps the only dignity he could keep for himself.
...
For Jiang Wang, he had given Xi Zichu ample time to arrange a way out for his family, in exchange for Xi Zichu's full commitment to fighting the plague of Jiacheng. Neither owed the other; they were even.
He respected Xi Zichu's sacrifice for his family. But that was all.
When it came time to kill, his hand would still not soften.
Xi Zichu had already been cast to the back of his mind. As after every battle before, he was silently reviewing the fight from beginning to end.
Finding the mistakes he had made, so as not to repeat them. Exploring where he might improve, so the next battle would come easier.
Using the sea of flame-flowers as cover to launch a false-but-real illusion was, in truth, not very practical. The main problem was safety while hiding inside the mirror-world of the Red Adornment Mirror—launching the illusion required him to be within the mirror-world, and the Red Adornment Mirror's own safety was by no means guaranteed.
Only because he had ample confidence in defeating Xi Zichu had he dared to hide in the mirror-world and stash the Red Adornment Mirror among the flame-flowers.
Had he faced someone stronger—one who could spot the Red Adornment Mirror at once and shatter it—he would have gambled and lost.
Only when he could use the Red Adornment Mirror's power without entering the mirror-world would it count as a real improvement to his strength in open battle. For now, the mirror remained chiefly a supplementary tool.
...
Jiang Wang had just returned to his room and was about to resume his interrupted cultivation when he was interrupted yet again.
It was Xiaoxiao, running over breathlessly: "My lord, somehow the people of the Four Seas Trade Alliance suddenly want to leave—taking nothing with them, like they're fleeing a disaster!"