Three days had passed since King Ji Shang's death and Ji Xia's ascension. White lanterns now lined Taicang's streets like a constellation of fallen stars, their glow illuminating tear-streaked faces. The people mourned openly, prayers to the Great Wind rising in unison—a plea to guide their late king's soul to the Celestial Court, far from the suffering of the Boundless Savage Lands.
Ji Xia walked among them in plain garb, his new crown left behind in the palace. Beside him, Ji Qianqing cut a striking figure, her usual armor replaced by a muted tunic. Yet it was the third member of their party who drew uneasy glances: a slender girl in gray homespun, her beauty undimmed by the fabric's roughness.
Jing Yu.
The girl rescued from the former prince's chambers.
Though Ji Xia had sworn—repeatedly—that his predecessor's hands had never touched her, Ji Qianqing's glacial stare remained unconvinced. The truth was simpler: the old Ji Xia had barely begun his predation when the Taicang Jade Incident shattered everything. Now, the new Ji Xia bore both the crown and the sins of a man he'd never been.
He'd hoped Jing Yu might clarify matters, but since her rescue, she'd spoken not a single word, her eyes perpetually downcast, their glassy sheen accusing him with every step. Today's outing was meant to return her home—and free him from this walking guilt.
The "main commercial district" of Taicai was a gut punch. A dozen listless vendors hawked wares from cracked stalls, their voices thin as the gruel simmering over dying fires.
Forty thousand souls call this place home, Ji Xia thought bitterly. In any other world, such numbers would birth bustling markets. But Taicang was no ordinary city.
Sandstone walls pressed inward like a closing fist, the land beyond either parched desert or sweltering rainforest—neither fit for crops. For two centuries, the kingdom had survived on rationed grain, state-distributed clothing, and meager infirmaries. A sickly system, yet necessary: with the Hyena-Dogs and Zhouqing ever-hungry, and monstrous beasts lurking beyond the walls, central control was the only bulwark against starvation.
Ji Qianqing studied his silence. "As king, what will you do?"
Nearby, hollow-cheeked children lay motionless in the dust, conserving energy. Ji Xia's jaw tightened. "Once the Hyena-Dogs secure a truce with the Crocodile-Horn Kingdom to their south, they'll return with full force. We end them first."
An emaciated old man leaned against a pillar, milky eyes shut. Ji Xia approached.
"Elder, do you live alone?"
The man turned toward his voice, gnarled hands groping air. "My grandsons left at dawn for the fields," he croaked. "Harvest waits for no man."
"But the palace distributes equal rations. Why labor?"
The elder's face darkened. "What spoiled brat asks such filth? Taicang stands because we stand! Soldiers die at the walls. Women bear children until their wombs bleed. Those who can't fight? They till the soil or perish!" A tear cut through the grime on his cheeks. "We elders pray for death to spare the young our burden. But King Shang... he forbade it."
Ji Xia's chest ached. "Why such sacrifice?"
"Because nowhere else will have us!" The man spat. "Every furrow was dug with blood. Every child born is another spear for the wall. You call it sacrifice? It's survival! Better to till than be eaten alive or kept as playthings by those beasts!"
A slow, seething fury kindled in Ji Xia's veins as he pressed a fist to his heart—a soldier's salute to the dying.