Lie Xi Tang raised his hand, inviting Song Zi Ning to sit down. After brief pleasantries, Lie inquired, “Is the Ningyuan Corporation your personal inheritance?”
Song affirmed, “Indeed it is.”
“I’ve heard you encountered some trouble with heavy machinery manufacturing plants and other industries in Cangci County. If you’d like, I might be able to assist.”
Song Zi Ning hesitated before responding thoughtfully, “The clan family gave me life, and whatever material things I’ve lost, they were merely repayment for their nurturing grace all these years.”
He displayed the manner of a remarkably unrestrained soul, appearing wholly unburdened concerning properties detained by House Song, and seemingly indifferent toward Lie’s subtle yet powerful offer. For a moment that might have allowed Song Zi Ning to branch away as an independent line from Song clan, he could’ve possibly reclaimed his lost enterprises, gained fair access to resources according to his inheritance standings, maybe even achieved greater prospects thereafter.
Clarifying his position, Song stated further, “I have joined forces with a few friends to set a modest foundation in the Eternal Nights, trivial compared to grand aristocratic housepowers, but with a great privilege of being bound by neither debts nor restrictions.”
Lie Xi Tang softly nodded at this and mentioned with slight smirk, “Blackflow City is truly an miraculous enclave.”
Unflinchingly Song revealed, “The Lord of Blackflow, Marquis Qian Ye, and I shared training at Hades together; for half a decade as peers, two of which as partners in survival trials.”
“Had it not been for two memorable years…” murmured Lie, momentarily lost in reverently nostalgic reflection.
“Master Xitang must be aware,” continued Song, expression warming genuinely with recalled memories, “During Hades assessments, students are required to surpass their assigned trials without seizing others’ scores—a feat whose difficulty multiplies by far more than two, at the cost of immense danger. Back then, through Heaven Evolution arts, I had gained the ability—though quite weak initially—to detect the subtlest of thoughts, unmask hidden intentions long before actions arose.”
“But even when desperate and offered opportunities ripe for betrayal, Qian Ye never wavered once,” admiration touched his features, “Even I doubt my conscience had matched such resilience at his side.” Song’s countenance softened to reminiscency, then hardened, “And yet eventually it was my idea to sever our bonds—there remained countless other paths for me to explore without besmirching destiny with a friend’s blood.”
He chuckled with wry self-deprecation. “Perhaps a moment of humanity in a graduate unworthy of Hades? My apologies if you find me foolish, Great Leader Lie!”
Carefully attentive, Lie finally said, “Hades believes in Cosmic Order and selects accordingly—whichever emerges is rightful survival. I heard Qian Ye now serves Fu Family?”
Song mused, “Fortune played again—while managing the problematic ‘Rat Hole’ trading route with younan rebels for the Ningyuan corp—I’d found myself in peril, compelled begging Qian Ye. He saved goods from chaos only to pick quarrels on Fuxis clan territory thereafter; it was the Fourth Prince Fu that finally intervened and—astonishingly—took notice in him thereafter.”
He joked lightly, hiding deeper thoughts behind a carefree chuckle, “It must be said—Qian Ye carries some absurd lucky thread!”
At this conclusion, Lie himself showed traces of amusement. Both aware, “Rat Hole” implied covert dual-identity channels—particularly sensitive amidst You-Nan’s rebel dealings. Lie understood the context better than most. Yet even if flagged to his notice back then, an oversight might have earned at most a tossed phrase dismissing it.
Shortly afterward their meeting ended, Song departed. Yet upon rising the weariness overtaking Lie’s visage proved irrevocable—a sign these Heavenly Art backlashes might not just stem as whispers anymore, as he stood silently contemplating beyond his office windowpane.
In Courtyard center Zhang Bao Leng lingered as previously, rigidly still. When Song approached to farewell, Bao Lian appraisingly studied his viscount demeanor, stating plainly:
“Song Zi Ning, in days after—direct your troubles unto Colonel Mu Yi.”
The weight in that promise? Heavier than mountains.
Leaving through central command gates, Song drew deep breath soaked with sweat—sudden sweat-rivulets streaming, back soaked as if emerged from a rainstorm. He made no effort to hide his awe while sighing wryly toward patiently awaited Mu Yian, “General Zhang’s might—undoubtedly oppressive!”
Companionably sympathetic, Colonel Mu nodded. “We’re under His Excellence Bao Ling supervision quite frequently and still find tension immense. But worry not!” Grinning warmly he smacked his friend’s broad shoulder, “‘C’mon lad! I’ll treat you to a toast tonight!”
Song delighted accepted. His greatest gain? Not merely Zhang Bao Ling’s quiet pledge—the olive branch from House Zhang would reap unforeseen returns—but also relief he could now leave other confrontations behind for one fated soul, one unshared battlefield that only Qian Ye could cross.
Yet as Bao Ling returned within to书房:
Lie stood at his window watching sky darken—his mind far from restful.
Bao Ling scrutinized his old cohort. Then questioned suddenly, “Met with Song Zi Ning today? Failed resolution despite truth?”
“I trusted every word the young fox offered,” responded Lie smilingly—calm but haunted, “Truth danced in every tone, every subtle sentiment. I saw him as transparent as crystal. But… answers I seek remain unsaid… particularly ‘her.’”
“Why not confront Zhao Qian Ye himself when you need answers so dire?”
Lie remained pensive before shaking head slowly—”Better he avoid my shadowed circle altogether. Doesn’t matter who he is now—if I meet him—only sorrow follows such alliances now.”
Bao Lian studied this carefully, then smirk. “Still, the true question haunts me—who… truly made a monkey outta you years back with my reputation on line for red scorpion’s sabotage?” His brow darkened. “Public says political duel. But we know the red-scarlet treachery I took as my burden…was not my own doing. Been dragging that falsehood for over long, and believe me… this sort hardship I seldom endure willingly…”
Lie Xi Tang, in calm tone, replied gently, “No blames required. My misstep alone bore those bitter fruits, and not your sins. All debts and affections stay buried until our empire survives this reckoning.”
Meantime, miles away—thousands perhaps—across a biome veiled by violet biomass undomably spread: Qian Ye prowled.
One vampiric Viscount sailed sideways through mid-flight, slamming painfully against ancient bark until dropping amidst roots. Cracks crunched as he collapsed.
Wobbly, tried crawling upward.
Failed. He rolled, frozen.
The Dragon Yue leveled at his throat.
Qian Ye’s eyes bore into red-veined gaze of captured Viscount. Each syllable deliberate but calm like blade across steel:
“You might aid me by sharing knowledge. Aid willingly—and your dying shall be swift, painless. But refuse… refuse to cooperate…” fingers tightened along engraved hilt—
“I shall sever half your Core and leave you rotting beneath these vines.”
The vampire’s pale lips tightened.
“Death awaits either way—and in dying—why betray honor by offering surrender freely?”
The vampire spoke with final, bittersweet pride—knowing what awaited the half-Core ruined in vampiric body meant death inevitable through slower, torturesome agony.
Qian Ye watched subtlest of flickers race across prey’s eyes. Slight but undeniable… clinging to breath, pulse.
“You could live… but only by letting me stab through. Remain motionless—don’t let my men see you afterward.”
This twist revived dim light of hope behind Viscounts fangs.
To pierce—but NOT excise… survival lingered in bloodline possibilities—a new single drop of Prime Blood could regenerate if given time, though strength diminished thereafter… yet… alive remained paramount above all.
Terror warring hope:
Finally Viscount bowed.
“I answer: Of Lajin House I was dispatched to…” Confession followed swiftly.
Qian Ye, patient yet probing asked further: “Speak of Princess Mona and her inner circle. Who attends the Matriarch’s throne in Monarch Clan courts?”
At length, he revealed, “Known to me only by whisper… Her name be Lady Nightfang, Princess of Monro. As for allies, only scattered tales reach far into our ranks.”
Interrogation stretched further. But nothing beyond echoes remained.
Gaining certainty at last of identity—the Vampire Princess was now undoubtedly the Lady Nightfang of Clan Monro.
Yet even with this knowledge, Qian Ye understood: the depth of his transgressions might never be excused. Already, too many nobles he slew in the Monro family might have been Nightfang’s own blood kin and trusted allies.
Between Eternal Nights and Dawning Skies lies chasm none may bridge.
Except within transient oases—temporary, fragile neutrality, their destinies may once bloom again—however momentary.
Upon that meeting… Would she shoot first at twilight’s horizon?
Would Bloodgaze pierce defenses and fracture heart?
Would they become more—or less—than mortal wounds?
Drearily he sheathed Eastview. The vampire faded into dying still alive, knowing none would reach him in this damned jungle. Salvation remained as unlikely as a falling star.
Shortly thereafter—near death breath—dying demonspawn convulsed. A vertical Eye slit his brow. Obsidian toad-like beast slithered down in torrents as dark essence cascaded from forehead onto limbs.
His essence swelled. Wounds mended.
He stood… eyes burning with mixture of vengeful ire and wary fear.
Hated, but unwilling to perish yet. No… not here.
He turned to leave forest’s deadly heart—to abandon its skeletal relic where titans long decayed in eternal slumber—his retreat began.
Just in time.
A slender silhouette materialized.
Right before retreating demonspawn.
A young girl now blocking shadow’s passage—serenity etched with shadows of ancient secrets.
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