The gale swept through his sleeves, revealing Shen Zechuan’s wrist bones. His right hand was clearly bandaged, fingers clutching a blue handkerchief, as if he could not bear the cold of the platform, and he covered his mouth to cough. When the coughing subsided, he said, “Even for Bai Cha’s sake… you wouldn’t let me go?”
The words brought a sudden clarity to Lei Jingzhe, and he shouted, “You’ve deceived me! You have no idea about the Scorpions!”
With that, his fist tore through the wind, aimed straight at Shen Zechuan’s face. Shen Zechuan had long anticipated this and slid aside, letting the punch miss. Lei Jingzhe didn’t retract; he used the momentum to try and grab Shen Zechuan’s arm. The white robe fluttered in the wind, moving with an almost ethereal grace, and again Lei Jingzhe grasped nothing. He crouched and delivered a sweeping kick, but Shen Zechuan landed lightly on the railing, brushing past the gale his movement had stirred, poised like a crane balancing on the edge.
Below, the battle raged violently. Lei Jingzhe wanted Shen Zechuan dead tonight; seeing him on the brink, he lifted his war hammer and surged, trying to force him off the platform. Shen Zechuan remained steady on the railing, the wind swirling behind him, flinging his robes as if he were a wild goose perched on the edge. His right hand remained idle, revealing he was at a disadvantage.
Lei Jingzhe opted for psychological attack, speaking as he struck: “Fine! Shen Zechuan, you want to know Bai Cha’s connection with the Scorpions? I’ll tell you tonight!”
He vaulted onto the railing, pressing close to Shen Zechuan’s movements.
“Bai Cha is a whore in the Duanzhou house, working for the Hawk regiment, a dog placed by Amuer near Shen Wei, and a needle for the Biansha in Zhongbo!”
Shen Zechuan’s footing wavered, the robe flaring backward. Fei Sheng, deep in the fighting below, caught sight and panicked, shouting, “Master!”
But in the next moment, Shen Zechuan swung back against the wind, regaining his balance.
Lei Jingzhe surged forward again, forcing Shen Zechuan to retreat. He continued, “Do you think your life is pitiful? Born as Shen Wei’s son, tormented! I’m pulling you out of this misery! Shen Zechuan, you’re a bastard of Biansha, Bai Cha in Gedale is public property—”
Suddenly, his neck felt an unbearable weight, a strike that almost made him bite through his tongue. He staggered back, catching himself on the high platform, spitting out blood.
Shen Zechuan raised his left hand, eyes cold. Under the faint moon, his skin appeared ghostly pale, like cold jade, colorless. His speech was deliberate: “Watch your tongue.”
Lei Jingzhe dropped his war hammer and slowly created distance, whispering, “Every word I spoke is true…” His gaze softened with pity. “You’re the most pitiful child in the world. Do you know how Bai Cha died? Shen Wei discovered her identity and strangled her with his own hands. Born into disdain, why would Shen Wei care for you? When you crawled out of the Cha Shi Pit and returned to Zhongbo, after enduring all that hatred and sorrow, did you think you were reclaiming lost ground?” His laughter turned dark and cruel. “You delude yourself with emotion, yet you never realized, no one will ever accept you. If Libei knew who Bai Cha really was, Xiao Chiye’s blade would turn on you.”
The railing shook violently as Shen Zechuan leapt. Lei Jingzhe braced his arms to block, nearly thrown back. The battle grew ferocious; Yan Heru could no longer linger nearby and slipped to the side. Lei Jingzhe nearly lost his footing, crashing into the latticework and toppling nearby glazed lanterns. Flames licked the carpet, spreading instantly.
Fei Sheng, bloodied, emerged up the stairwell, shouting, “Master! The fire’s spreading—stay no longer!”
Lei Jingzhe’s back caught the wind; he tried to dodge the guards, exclaiming, “Tonight, Duzhou is mine! You die here!”
A white sleeve struck his face, catching him off-guard. Shen Zechuan had seized Lei Jingzhe’s collar. In a flash, the cloth tore—the white shadow, almost featherlike, fell with Lei Jingzhe!
Fei Sheng’s heart sank. He reached out, barely catching the edge of Lei Jingzhe’s coat, trembling: “Master!”
During the fall, Lei Jingzhe realized Shen Zechuan would not hesitate to kill him. He swung his right arm instinctively, crashing against the flying eaves, which broke under his weight. Dangling, he fought to climb the protruding tiles, the flames roaring beneath him.
Shen Zechuan climbed from another angle, stepping on Lei Jingzhe’s hands, dislodging tiles, sending fragments crashing down.
Lei Jingzhe, terrified, spat blood into the wind. Shen Zechuan released his right-hand bandages, letting the steel needles fall, his pale fingers clenching into a fist.
Lei Jingzhe’s injured arm strained as he clung to the eaves, watching the needles shatter at his feet.
“Even if you kill me, you won’t survive,” Lei Jingzhe gasped, “You’re too pitiful—you’ve been… twisted into a monster! After tonight, Zhongbo will be your nightmare, haunting every sleepless night, every anxious day…”
Shen Zechuan crouched, his shadow under the firelight now blooming with spectral beauty and bloodthirsty cruelty. He smiled quietly: “You’re adorable in your naivety.”
Lei Jingzhe, out of breath, rolled his eyes wildly, overtaken by fear.
Shen Zechuan examined him and spoke kindly: “I came to Duzhou to catch you.”
Lei Jingzhe gasped, choking on shallow breaths.
“You’ve done me a great favor,” Shen Zechuan continued, looking over Duzhou, “I wanted to annex Duzhou and Duanzhou, yet couldn’t act because of Qi Zhuyin. I relied on Fan Zhou’s Wing King for cover. You could have lived longer—had you not brought the Biansha cavalry, I might have waited a year, two, perhaps longer, for the right chance. But you brought them.”
Sparks crackled.
“Now I have sufficient reason to march on Duzhou,” Shen Zechuan said, eyes returning to Lei Jingzhe. “Thanks to your care and our long talk, I could buy time for the defense forces of Cizhou.”
Lei Jingzhe could not believe it. Shen Zechuan had planned every step, calculated every move! He tilted his head back, vision blurring, gasping, “You… you Scorpions…”
“No matter who my parents are,” Shen Zechuan whispered in his ear, “I am Shen Zechuan. Whether your words are true or false is meaningless to me. My nightmare is my own.”
This land?
Zhongbo could never bind Shen Zechuan. He had no love for a homeland like Xiao Chiye. Falling into the Cha Shi Pit made him a stranger to the world, severing all ties to land. He could never gallop across the plains; his wings were born in the darkest nights. If Xiao Chiye was the Wild Goose Mountain, Shen Zechuan was Zhongbo’s passing cold wind.
Shen Wei, Bai Cha—he no longer cared.
His right hand’s fingers were cracking, yet Shen Zechuan felt no pain. He gripped Lei Jingzhe’s throat as he had gripped Ji Lei’s a year prior, signaling he was no longer bound by anyone. Perhaps Lei Jingzhe was right: the years of pain and hatred had forged him into a monster. When Qi Huilian died in the pouring rain, Shen Zechuan had abandoned the old chains; he would no longer be a prisoner.
Lei Jingzhe’s strength waned. In a fleeting moment, he grasped Shen Zechuan’s arm. He remembered the rumors of Qu Du:
“Mad… mad…” he gasped.
The pavilion burned, timber cracking, tiles sliding. Yan Heru’s carefully built Fuxian Peak crumbled. The remaining eaves could not hold two people; with a crack, they snapped again.
Shen Zechuan stood at the edge, thinking of the abyss in his dreams. He had always stood at the brink, never crossing, uncertain of what lay beyond—but he heard the sound of hooves.
It was the wind from Libei.
Shen Zechuan released his grip and, as the eaves collapsed, stepped forward. He fell like a bird folding its wings, white robes scattering, plunging downward. The wind whistled past like a dream.
Below, the still water seemed calm, but a strong, living breath shattered the darkness. Powerful arms wrapped around Shen Zechuan, and in an instant, the stagnant water became like Xiao Chiye’s chest.
Shen Zechuan was caught.