Southgreen Street, one of Taicang's main thoroughfares in the western district, was home to many military families. Ji Xia and Ji Qianqing moved through the crowds with their hoods drawn low—after all, the sight of the young king and his fiercest general visiting unannounced would stir undue commotion.
They paused before a spotless wooden door, its hinges oiled to silence. Ji Xia clasped his hands behind his back, eyeing the quiet Jing Yu beside him. "So this is your home?"
The girl nodded mutely, her eyes avoiding his. Ji Xia suppressed a grimace, recalling the hollow look she'd given him after Ji Qianqing rescued her from the palace's darker corners. "The prince's debts fall on me now. How tiresome."
Feigning nonchalance, he waved her off. "Go on inside. The general and I have... civic inspections to attend to."
Jing Yu's gaze flickered to Ji Qianqing. "This one thanks the general for her mercy," she murmured, fingers tightening on the doorframe. "Would you honor us with a cup of water before you go?"
"Unnecessa—"
"Accepted."*
Ji Xia's protest died as Ji Qianqing stepped forward, her tone brooking no argument. "Wait here, Your Majesty."
Left on the doorstep, Ji Xia scowled at the closing door. "Do crowns render men invisible?" Grumbling, he turned to seek shade under a nearby tree—only to freeze.
A hulking, limping figure approached from the street's end, a battered greatsword strapped to his back. As the youth drew nearer, Ji Xia's pulse quickened. That scarred face...
"You!"
The stranger's head snapped up. Recognition flared, and he dropped to one knee, fist pressed to his heart. "Your Majesty!"
Ji Xia yanked off his hood, grinning. "You're alive!" He hauled the boy up. "How'd you recognize me like this?"
The youth—Jing Ye—stood a full head taller, yet bent respectfully. "This one's senses are... keen. I caught your scent, sire."
"Jing Ye..." Ji Xia's eyes darted to the house just as its door burst open.
Jing Yu flew out like a storm, crashing into her brother's chest with a sob. "Elder Brother!"
Jing Ye's calloused hands cradled her face. "Hush, Little Yu. I'm home."
His tenderness shattered her composure. Sobs racked her frame, loud enough to draw stares. Ji Xia rubbed his neck, suddenly an intruder in this reunion.
Ji Qianqing materialized behind him, arms crossed. "Awkward, isn't it?" her smirk said louder than words.
Jing Ye bowed hastily. "General Ji! Forgive my sister—she's been—"
"—Worried sick," Ji Qianqing finished, her sternness softening.
As Jing Ye whispered comforts, Jing Yu's tears slowed. She blinked up at Ji Xia, then—to his shock—sank into a flawless curtsy. "This one thanks the king for saving my brother's life."
No trace of resentment lingered. Had she truly forgiven the prince's crimes?
Ji Xia cleared his throat. "Rise. We were just—"
The sky split.
Sunlight vanished behind roiling black clouds. A chill deeper than winter gripped the air as a pillar of smoke slammed into the street, coalescing into a hooded figure wreathed in shadows.
Steel sang as Ji Qianqing's blade flashed crimson. Jing Ye's greatsword barred the king's path.
The shadow ignored them, its voice scraping like gravel down a tomb wall. "Shang is dead... So you're the new puppet?"
Ji Xia's fingers twitched toward Vengeance's hilt. "State your business."
"I came to slaughter a wounded king. His corpse saves me the trouble." The figure raised a hand. "Your head will suffice."
Darkness convulsed.
A three-zhang monstrosity erupted from the smoke—bull-headed, tiger-bodied, its maw bristling with fangs. It lunged before Ji Xia could blink.
Battle-honed reflexes saved him.
Vengeance's edge met shadow-flesh—and passed through like mist. Ji Qianqing's and Jing Ye's strikes fared no better.
"Meng Gui!" Ji Qianqing barked. "It's a Zhouqing Divine Ability user!"
The black-cloaked spymaster hurled a jade tablet to the ground. A corpse-pale revenant clawed free from the earth, maggots spilling from its eye sockets. With a groan of rotting sinew, it locked skeletal hands around the beast's horns, halting its charge.
The shadow-figure teleported behind Ji Xia. Smoke solidified into a dagger, aimed at his throat.
Ji Qianqing's sword intercepted in a crimson arc—but the figure's knee slammed into Ji Xia's ribs, hurling him across the street.
As pain exploded through his bones, Ji Xia coughed blood. "Ah. Might makes right in this damned world."