Chapter 117: Dead Fire

"That is, my ideal homeland in my heart." Feng Yan raised his head, feeling moved, and said.

The children raised their heads, not understanding the older brother's words; they only felt strange, thinking Feng Yan was a weirdo.

"Um, older brother, I find what you said strange, and we can't understand it either!" The child raised his head to look at Feng Yan and spoke.

Feng Yan first froze, standing in place, looking at these children; he knew they wouldn't understand these words, yet he felt he still had to say them. He felt these words should be spoken, but he didn't grasp their meaning. He longed for someone who knew him to appear, to hear this, and then ask him: "Is that dance girl from my memory a very important person to me?"

Then that person nodded steadily, giving him an affirmative answer: "Yes, very important."

"Older brother? Older brother?" a child softly called him, the childish voice pulling him back into "reality."

"Ah, is that so? You all don't understand?" Feng Yan came to his senses, then squatted down and asked the children before him.

The children shook their heads, looking at Feng Yan.

"It's fine, then let's go." Feng Yan stood up, leading the children toward the Wanggongdameng.

Along the way, Feng Yan gazed at the splendid Wanggong, at the precious trees planted within it; the night wind blew, making a rustling sound. Expensive red candles stood on the candelabras all around, their flames never dying, the dim yellow light illuminating the road ahead. The night was dispelled by the red candles; the Wanggong's surroundings were lit with red candles, everything bathed in their glow, the red candles continually burning, shedding blood‑red tears.

"Indeed, the Wang family—even at night it never grows dark." Feng Yan looked at the candelabras lit all around, marveling at the royal wealth, then continued toward the Wanggongdameng.

They all the way arrived at the Wanggongdameng, seeing the guard soldiers repeatedly nodding off, trying to sleep, yet each time forcing themselves to stay awake; he glanced back at their officer and found him already asleep in his chair.

Feng Yan's group came to a stop at the city gate; the soldier looked at Feng Yan, knowing he was a guest invited by the Prince, having seen Feng Yan before.

The soldier still blocked him, saying: "You can't go out now."

"Why?" Feng Yan stopped his steps and asked.

"It's curfew time now," the soldier replied.

"I see." Feng Yan nodded to show understanding; after answering, he went straight to sit on the ground.

"Don't!" the soldier stopped Feng Yan's action, then moved a chair beside the officer and continued: "You may sit here, but not on the ground—it's cold!"

"All right!" Feng Yan replied, still standing up, gesturing for the few children to sit on the chairs.

"Thank you, older brother!" several children shouted, then sat on the chairs, but the chairs could only seat two people.

Feng Yan looked at the situation before him, scratched his head, feeling it was a bit troublesome, and said: "I feared something like this would happen, and indeed it has!"

"You needn't worry, I still have a way," the guard soldier said, summoning two servants and ordering: "This is the Prince's honored guest; arrange a room for him!"

"Yes!" the servants replied, then said to Feng Yan: "Several of you, please follow me."

Feng Yan didn't say much, just followed them; along the way there were still the red candles, but the candelabras were no longer wooden—they were people. This struck Feng Yan as odd; he wanted to ask something, yet they quickened their pace to leave, daring not to glance.

The servants' behavior struck Feng Yan as strange; he glanced again and saw that the people there wore expressions of great pain—some enduring agore, some already breathless, completely corpses.

"Older brother, you must be wanting to ask something, right?" the child beside him said, watching Feng Yan's eyes darting to those candelabras.

Feng Yan nodded, counting that as an answer to the child's words.

"There, they are all uncles and older brothers who defied authority," the child continued, eyes full of resentment.

"Is that so?" Feng Yan felt even stranger; he approached the nearest candelabra, where the person atop had long since stopped breathing—face deathly pale, lips dry, cracked and crusted with a thick layer of blood scab. Yet oddly, their bodies showed no decay, nor any foul odor.

"They! They've come in here! They'll be tortured to death! Run!" Just as Feng Yan felt odd, he heard the servants' loud shout behind him, then saw them fleeing swiftly.

Feng Yan first turned to look at the fleeing servants, feeling strange, when he heard a soft "whoosh"—a flying dart shot toward him!

Clang!

Feng Yan hastily drew his sword to block it, making a sound, and at once grew alert, scanning his surroundings.

"Older brother is awesome, he blocked it! Wow! That sword is so domineering!" the children exclaimed, looking at Feng Yan's black long sword in his hand.

The children looked at Feng Yan, eyes full of admiration; Feng Yan gripped the long sword, guarding the surroundings while protecting the children's safety.

Feng Yan's nerves were taut; shortly after, he sweated all over, large beads of sweat on his forehead. He grew anxious, eager to ferret out the enemy hidden in the darkness.

"Ah!" a wail rang out; Feng Yan turned his head and saw that one of the fleeing servants, struck in the chest by the dart, had collapsed on the ground, breathing rapidly.

Feng Yan saw the man's end was near; he approached, but the man seized his pant leg, pleading: "Kill me, please, kill me!"

Feng Yan saw the man's painful expression, yet he dared not speak, seemingly terrified of something; Feng Yan glanced at his black sword.

He hesitated, unwilling to act, but seeing the man lying there, he knew he had to strike.

"Go ahead, give me a quick end," the man pleaded again.

"Forgive me!" Feng Yan closed his eyes, raised his black sword; the blade caught the moonlight, emitting a faint red hue, looking eerie.

*Pfft*—the black sword pierced the servant's body; bright red blood spurted out, staining Feng Yan's clothes, the air thick with the scent of blood.

"Is this really right?" Feng Yan murmured, gently closing the man's eyes with his hand.

Feng Yan stood up and saw the candelabra before him.

The red candles continued to burn, continually shedding tears downward.

Feng Yan hoisted the servant's corpse onto his back and told the children: "We should go now."

The children seemed to grasp the gravity of the situation, falling silent.

"Stop! Don't take my things!" As Feng Yan and the children prepared to leave, a voice came from behind, demanding he put down the corpse he carried.

Feng Yan paid no heed, merely continuing forward.

"I told you to stop!" the voice cried, urgent and louder.

Yet Feng Yan still ignored it, walking on.

A child at Feng Yan's side tugged his sleeve, whispering: "Older brother, is this really okay? They're telling us to stop."

"Ignore him!" Feng Yan said calmly.

"Come back!" the voice sounded again behind Feng Yan, accompanied by a howling wind, as a broadsword came swinging at his back.

Clang! The black sword leapt from its sheath, blocking the broadsword's attack.

Feng Yan turned his head—there stood a pallid man, who strained to press down the black sword, yet the sword easily flicked him aside, sending him to the ground.

The tip of the black sword pointed at the man's throat; he remained motionless, then Feng Yan faced him and said: "What use is that corpse? Eat it? Or make a human‑blood chaos? Scum!"

Having spoken, he kicked the man over, turned, and led the children away.

The man lay on the ground, gazing at the knife not far away. Now he could no longer muster the strength to rise; he could only stare with his vacant eyes as they slowly departed, feeling unwilling yet powerless. He looked at the humanoid candelabras behind him, knowing his fate would be the same, and despairingly closed his eyes.

But what he hadn't expected, the death he thought would come, didn't arrive; instead he heard a sound like snakes crawling on the ground, and then his body was dragged away bit by bit, and he gradually lost consciousness, closing his eyes.

Feng Yan and the children returned to the gate; it was already the third watch.

The soldier saw Feng Yan carrying a corpse, with the children following behind, and finding it strange, hurried forward and asked, "Sirs, did you perhaps encounter something?"

Feng Yan nodded and replied, "Under the guidance of a servant, we came to a place where a human corpse was used as a candle stand; the children, curious, went forward—just as I had done when I passed there, the servants had fled in fear, and that place seemed to hold something terrifying."

The soldier listened to Feng Yan's words; his earlier doubts vanished, replaced by a solemn expression as he said, "That place is where our execution officer punishes the disobedient; there is a mechanism, and anyone who wanders in by mistake will basically die."

"Like that." Feng Yan replied, then set down the servant he had been carrying on his back; that person had already stopped breathing, but Feng Yan still carried him back, and turning to the soldier he asked, "Around here, is there a place to bury someone?"

The soldier shook his head and sighed, saying, "The state's class divisions are extremely strict; for us soldiers, only after death can we just barely bury ourselves, whereas for servants, they are either simply thrown away, or, with medicinal herbs added, turned into candle stands."

The soldier lifted his head to look at the sky; he knew that at this point basically nothing would come, yet they still had to keep watch—black clouds obscured the white moon, and the entire Wanggong had only candlelight left.

"Then, have you never considered rebelling?"