"The flowers have blood again," Situ Jiuyue said by his side.
Dressed in black, with bells adorning her body, hair, and wrists, Situ Jiuyue had always been cold as ice, yet tonight she seed sowhat peculiar.
"I entrust their care to you in my absence," Jih Heng said.
"Of course," Situ Jiuyue replied, "I will take good care of them. If you do not return, these flowers will all be mine."
"Situ, that’s a rather unpleasant thing to say," Wen Renyao complained from the side, "It’s really inauspicious! Tsk, tsk, tsk, there should be no taboos."
Tonight, the Duke Residence seed a bit more lively than usual. Lu Jiu and Kong Liu also stood to the side, but unlike before, none of them appeared leisurely. Each bore a grave expression as though sothing significant was about to happen.
Xiao Hong also seed to sense the oddness of the atmosphere. Perched on a branch, she cocked her head looking at these people. Usually noisy, today she remained silent, deathly quiet.
"When does the lord plan to set out?" Lu Jiu asked.
"Tomorrow."
"Won’t you say goodbye to Miss Jiang the Second before leaving?" Kong Liu asked hesitantly, "After all, you’re already betrothed, and she is your fiancée. It would be better to inform her."
"There’s no need," Jih Heng said, "She would worry if she knew."
Everyone fell silent, knowing how perilous the journey was. A life-or-death confrontation between Jih Heng and Yin Zhan was inevitable. They baited each other, each side held hidden moves, both aiming to be the final victor catching the others unsuspecting. Neither would easily back down, yet who would ultimately prevail was uncertain. Jih Heng had been planning for decades; wasn’t Yin Zhan doing the sa?
Perhaps even the differences between them were re trifles, left to the heavens to favor one with a stroke of luck.
"I’m prepared," Kong Liu said, "Everything has been arranged properly in Yanjing City."
"Good," Jih Heng said, "Lu Jiu, you shall also remain in Yanjing."
"My lord," Lu Jiu furrowed his brows, "It’s extrely dangerous for you to go alone this ti. At such a critical mont, any misstep would be disastrous. Venturing into danger is not the best strategy."
"Yin Zhan’s troops are scattered throughout Northern Yan; Yanjing is key. He has left as bait, and won’t have many n with him. I must lure him out, and obviously can’t be surrounded by troops, but that doesn’t an I am without plans. This ti, he must be cornered and finished," Jih Heng said with a faint smile, "The sa goes for him."
As he spoke, he gently touched the branches of the small tree in front of him, and then chuckled.
In the Duke Residence’s flower garden, it seed no one was aware of the happenings. Yet, in Old General Jih’s study, a lamp was lit.
Despite his advanced age, he had vigorous energy and always retired early, claiming early bedtis aided longevity. For years, he indeed appeared stronger and younger than his peers. However, the old general couldn’t compare to younger generals. Just like the rusty, dust-laden weapons and armor in his room, despite frequent cleaning, they resembled a hero in his twilight years—provoking pity.
He walked slowly past these weapons, touching the golden armor, the tough shields, the imposing spears, the fierce swords... with each weapon he passed, he paused, standing quietly as if reminiscing about glorious days gone by. A nostalgic look spread across his face until he reached a treasured sword.
The sword’s scabbard was inlaid with glittering rubies, carved with intricate patterns, while the blade shone brightly, slender and light. When drawn from its sheath, it dazzled onlookers, emitting a fierce aura so intense it was almost blinding.
This Treasured Sword nad "Green Nether" had seen countless battlefields. From his ti to that of Jih Minghan, Jih Heng, however, refused to use swords, preferring a fan for everyday use. Old General Jih had often advised against such frivolous items, but Jih Heng never heeded him.
He liked the elegance and gracefulness of taking a life in an instant.
Old General Jih removed "Green Nether" from its place on the wall and walked over to the desk, found a cloth, and began to wipe it down slowly.
With each stroke of the cloth, the sword glead ever brighter. Holding it felt almost like an illusion; as if the sword itself humd, vibrating with sound.
"Old friend," Old General Jih said affectionately as he wiped the blade, holding it as though facing a long-lost friend, a brother with whom he had shared the battlefield many years ago, "I have grown old, yet you remain as fierce as ever."
Cradling the sword, he could almost see the past, the young general brandishing his sword valiantly on the battlefield—fearless and imposing. Then ti hurried on, everything changed; the sword remained the sa, but the people were different.
He held the sword, lost in lancholy, and sat for quite so ti. Anyone witnessing this would be surprised to see the usually cheerful and jovial old man in such sorrow.
After polishing the sword, he replaced it into its sheath and set it on the table. The lamp continued to burn quietly, lighting up the old general’s eyes, and the tears gleaming within them.
"Minghan," he murmured, "It’s been over twenty years. It’s about ti we father and son t again."
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