Xie Lian hadn’t had the chance to react before Wuming said, “Your Highness, he’s dead.”
“…Dead?” Xie Lian wondered.
He looked down, and Lang Ying’s eyes were already going dull. He really had died.
“How is he just…dead?” Xie Lian mumbled.
He hadn’t done anything to Lang Ying yet. How could he be dead?
And now that he thought about it, Lang Ying had died fairly fulfilled and happy. His revenge against Xianle was complete, and with his family so close at hand, he was prepared to immediately reunite with them in the underworld. He had suffered enough torment in the world of the living, so death was likely a form of release, an end to it.
But Xie Lian was left with nothing to avenge himself upon! His chest was filled with grievance and indignation, and in the end, they coalesced into a single emotion: hate. How despicable! How absolutely despicable!
Lang Ying had stopped moving, but the two faces on his chest seemed to know that their host was dead and suddenly started to cry. Waaaaaaah, waaaaaaah. The noise was piercing, worse than the sound of nails scratching on gold and silver plates. Xie Lian was already going mad from fury. He pulled out the black sword, ready to strike and shut them up, when Wuming swiftly drew his saber. Sching! The saber’s light flashed past him, and Lang Ying’s corpse was instantly chopped to pieces. Tens of pieces, hundreds of pieces… Flesh and blood splattered everywhere.
Xie Lian hadn’t even moved before he was overtaken. “Who told you to do that?” he questioned coldly.
“There was no need to dirty Your Highness’s hands,” Wuming replied.
Just then, urgent footsteps sounded outside the door. “Uncle!” a young boy’s voice called.
Who? Xie Lian turned around and saw that the doors of the palace hall were wide open. A boy, ten-or-so years old, was standing there and gazing at the scene in front of him. His face had been full of smiles at first, but they turned to shock when he entered and saw the gore covering the floor.
Xie Lian was unmoved. “Who are you?”
“I…” the boy started, then his gaze fell upon the chunks of dead body all around the room. “Uncle…!”
More people began calling to him from outside. “Your Royal Highness, don’t run off! The king said you can’t run around in the palace! Please don’t make things difficult for me in the middle of the night…”
“Royal Highness”?
Lang Ying’s son was dead, and this boy had called him “uncle.” So he must be the one Lang Ying had named Crown Prince of Yong’an!
The reality of the situation seemed to have dawned on the young crown prince, and he cried out in terror. “Ghosts! There are ghosts! Somebody—”
He hadn’t screamed more than a few words before Wuming struck him in the neck. The Crown Prince of Yong’an lost consciousness and fell into the blood pooling on the floor. However, his screams had already reached those outside, and a commotion began to rise.
“What? Did you hear that?”
“Guards! Guards!”
Xie Lian’s eyes flicked, and Wuming inclined his head, indicating he would take care of it. He flashed away. In an instant, all the noise outside was choked off. Exiting the great hall, Xie Lian saw many guards strewn about on the ground. Wuming stood at the center of the fallen crowd, his thin, delicate saber dripping with blood. He had finished them all with a single strike.
More noise came from far in the distance, and a new batch of guards arrived amidst shouts of “Protect the king!” and “Protect His Highness!”
Xie Lian coldly turned around and ignored them completely. Sure enough, less than a second later those voices vanished completely, cut down like a harvest faced with a scythe. Soon after, Wuming silently caught up to him.
Xie Lian inclined his head. “Burn the palace.”
Wuming bowed his head. “Yes, sir.”
Roaring flames blazed to the sky. Two tall, slender figures stood before the raging fire. Their shadows on the ground writhed and contorted ceaselessly, pulling and twisting, changing shape.
The attendants within the Palace of Yong’an were jolted awake by the havoc, and the air was choked by the cries and curses of those putting out the fires and those making their escape. It was very much the same scene as when the Palace of Xianle had been set ablaze.
“Your Highness, what do you want to do next?” the black-clad warrior asked.
“To Lang-Er Bay,” the white-clothed man said in a chilly voice.
***
Before the Kingdom of Xianle fell, Xie Lian had visited Lang-Er Bay countless times. Every time he went, it was to create rain to save the people; his body and heart were always exhausted, his steps leaden. This time, he was visiting for a completely different reason, and his body was light.
Having survived the drought and gained the support of the new king, Lang-Er Bay had been revived, lively and bustling. Streets and alleys were busy and joyful, the people cheerful and happy—it was a complete reversal from the misery of years ago. Only one place was still as miserable as before, and that was the Temple of the Crown Prince of Xianle.
No one would come to a broken-down Temple of the Crown Prince, so Xie Lian chose it as his place to rest. Right now, he was meditating within the hall.
The vengeful spirits should’ve quickly found a host in Lang Ying, the target of Xie Lian’s revenge. Yet because he was already dead, they still struggled in agony, wailing and screeching relentlessly at Xie Lian.
Frowning, Xie Lian waved them away with his eyes closed. “Just wait, don’t be impatient. I will allow all of you to find release!”
Just then, a voice called out, “Your Highness.”
Xie Lian opened his eyes. He saw Wuming before him, one knee on the ground.
Chapter 103:
Nameless Ghost Offers a Nameless Flower
XIE LIAN’S MIND was still deeply mired in the screaming of the vengeful spirits, and he couldn’t quite regain himself for the moment. Shaken, his face was drenched with cold sweat underneath the mask.
“…Don’t address me by that title,” he responded, still distracted.
Every time someone addressed him like that, it was as if they were trying to remind him of something. It made him particularly irritated, and each instance jolted his heart.
However, Wuming said, “Your Highness will forever be Your Highness.”
Xie Lian looked over. He couldn’t see Wuming’s face, of course, just the smiling mask. And when Wuming gazed at him, he also could only see a ghastly white cry-smiling mask.
“If you keep calling me by that title, I’ll disperse your soul,” Xie Lian said coldly. “Don’t think yourself to be so strong.”
Wuming bowed his head and did not speak.
Xie Lian calmed himself. “Go search the area around Lang-Er Bay and find the best location to set up an array.”
“Yes, sir,” Wuming replied.
Xie Lian closed his eyes, paused, and then opened them again. He gazed at the black-clad warrior, frowning. “Why are you still here?”
“The location is settled,” Wuming replied. “What about the time?”
“Time?”
“The souls of the dead cannot wait any longer. We must find a subject to curse soon, without delay.”
They truly couldn’t delay for long. After some silence, Xie Lian said, “Three days.”
“Why three days?” Wuming asked.
For some reason, Xie Lian got easily agitated whenever he conversed with Wuming. “In three days, it will be the full moon. Unleashing the spirits at that time will increase the plague’s power significantly. You ask too many questions, just go.”
Wuming nodded and stood down without another word. Xie Lian closed his eyes again and covered his forehead with his hand, hoping to relieve this round of headaches.
Just then, he heard a cold, mocking chuckle from behind him.
