One day of three had already passed.
A tiny spot of white seemed to glow within the darkness of the hall. It was strange, and Xie Lian turned to look. But when he got a clear view of what that white spot was, his pupils shrank in shock—though his eyes could not be seen underneath his mask.
He snatched up the offending thing and demanded, “What… What is this flower doing here?”
It was a fresh, delicate, little white flower, and it had been placed on the left hand of the scorched, broken divine statue. The contrast between it and the blackened statue made it appear especially pure, like snow, but also especially bleak. It looked like this divine statue had suffered all its injuries to protect the little flower.
Xie Lian didn’t know why this scene enraged him so keenly. “Ghost! Come out!” he bellowed.
Soon, the saber-wielding black-clad warrior appeared as expected. He hadn’t yet spoken before Xie Lian demanded, “What’s the meaning of this flower? Who did this? Did you do this?”
Wuming bowed his head slightly, and his gaze paused for a moment on the flower that seemed crushed to suffocation in Xie Lian’s hand. Finally, he said quietly, “It wasn’t me.”
“Then who could’ve done it?!” Xie Lian exclaimed.
“Why is Your Highness so angry at seeing this flower?” Wuming asked.
Xie Lian’s face darkened, and he threw the flower to the ground. “…Pranks like these disgust me.”
Wuming, however, said, “Why would it be a prank? Perhaps Your Highness has believers here who still offer worship.”
His words were like a slap to Xie Lian’s face, and he turned to Wuming.
“Are you making fun of me?”
“No,” Wuming replied.
“Then don’t say such nonsense! Why would offerings still be here?!”
After a pause, Wuming said, “It’s not impossible.”
Xie Lian didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t take it anymore and snapped at Wuming, “That’s enough. What are you trying to say? Weren’t you a soldier of Xianle? I didn’t rouse you from the battlefield to listen to you speak for Yong’an. You just need to heed my command!”
The flower on the ground pricked his heart and stabbed his eyes. All at once, he felt very wretched and unkempt. Xie Lian charged forward and stomped it under his boot, crushing it like he was venting his fury. Yet after he was done, he felt baffled by his own actions. Why did he throw such a huge fit over such a small flower?
Xie Lian rushed out of the Temple of the Crown Prince. Only once he felt the cool breeze did he gradually calm down. The black-clad warrior followed him outside.
“You’ve investigated the area. Have you found anything that seems unusual?” Xie Lian asked.
“No,” Wuming replied.
“Are you sure?” Xie Lian asked. “In order to unleash the plague of Human Face Disease, there can’t be anything amiss with the time, fortune, or location.”
“I am certain,” Wuming replied.
Xie Lian had nothing more to say, so he gazed at the sky.
After a moment of silence, Wuming asked, “Your Highness, have you decided on the method you will use to unleash the vengeful spirits’ pestilence?”
“I’m still thinking,” Xie Lian said.
He looked down at the black sword hanging from his waist. Millions of vengeful spirits were sealed within the sword, but it could only keep them contained for so long.
Suddenly, Wuming said, “Your Highness, I have a presumptuous request.”
“Speak.”
“I hoped that Your Highness might give me the sword and allow me to summon the plague.”
Xie Lian turned his head. “Why?”
Wuming watched Xie Lian intently from behind his mask. “My beloved sustained terrible injuries in the war and suffered a fate worse than death. I could only watch helplessly as they suffered in torment and struggled in agony.”
“And?” Xie Lian said.
“And so I hoped that I could be the one to wield the sword and avenge them.”
That reason was very plausible, but Xie Lian found it hard to trust him, somehow. He narrowed his eyes.
“I find you rather odd.” He circled Wuming and commented coolly, “Based on what I’ve seen, you don’t seem like an avenger mired in resentment and hatred. Asking this of me…is it really so you can unleash the plague?”
Despite his doubts, he couldn’t imagine why else Wuming would request to unleash it.
The nameless black-clad warrior bowed his head toward him. “Your Highness, I wish for the deaths of Yong’an’s people more than anyone. And I wish for them to perish by my hand. If you don’t believe me, I can go prove myself to you right now.”
“How do you plan on doing that?” Xie Lian asked.
Wuming placed his hand on his saber and began to slowly back up, withdrawing from Xie Lian’s presence and preparing to leave. By his third step back, Xie Lian suddenly realized what he planned to do: to prove to Xie Lian that he had a vengeful heart, he was going to go kill someone!
“Stop!” Xie Lian instantly called out.
Wuming stopped. Xie Lian sized him up critically, then declared with resolve, “No. I will unleash them myself.”
The black-clad warrior bowed his head; thanks to his mask, it was hard to guess what expression he might be wearing. But Xie Lian didn’t care about anyone’s reaction, and he simply turned around.
“However…before that, there’s something I need to do,” he said softly.
He raised the cold, jade-like, black sword. He stared at the sharp blade in his hand, a peculiar glint flashing in his eyes.
Wuming noticed that something was off. “Your Highness, what are you planning?!”
But Wuming had no chance to stop him before Xie Lian turned the point of the blade on himself—and plunged the black sword into his own abdomen!
***
The next day, on the streets of Lang-Er Bay…
The weather had not been pleasant lately. It was perpetually cloudy and gloomy, with sudden wild gusts of wind and endless sinister rain.
For that matter, Yong’an had not been peaceful lately, not one part of it. Apparently the newly built palace had caught fire, and both the king and the crown prince were reported to be ill—ill enough that they couldn’t grant anyone an audience. Everything was chaos; there were ominous signs everywhere. The people were ill at ease and couldn’t help but grumble. Only ignorant children continued to play and run around without a care in the world.
A blast of gloomy wind swept past, harsh enough to be blinding. Suddenly, a huge explosion echoed from a bustling fork in one of the city’s thoroughfares.
A man had dropped from the sky!
The crowd on the main street was startled by the booming noise, and they all looked toward the sound. On the ground there was a human-shaped crater formed from the falling man’s impact. Within the hole there was a person lying listlessly flat. His hair was strewn around him, and his body was covered in blood—so much that his white robes looked utterly horrifying.
Everyone on the street rushed to crowd around.
“Who is it?!”
“My heavens, where did he fall from? The sky?!”
“Is he dead?!”
“I…I don’t think so! I think he’s still moving!”
“I can’t believe he could survive that! Wait, what’s stuck through his chest? A sword?!”
Once the crowd was close enough, they could finally see the man’s appearance clearly. Although he was disheveled, he was handsome; he had clean features and fair skin. His eyes were gazing unblinkingly toward the sky in a way that was very unlike the living—but he clearly wasn’t dead since he was still breathing. The black sword that had pierced his stomach and penetrated his organs was rising up and down weakly with the movement of his chest.
Another person exclaimed in surprise, “Wait, isn’t this…isn’t this…th-that Royal Highness the Crown Prince?!”
Once he mentioned it, everyone else started to recognize him too.
