Chapter 476

Thud…

“From March of the ninth year of Great Xia until now, hasn’t it been nearly four years?”

In a private chamber behind the circular stage on the top floor of Shigui Tavern, Xia Hong sat alone by the window, while Jiang Xinfan and the other thirteen stood lined up on either side.

Seeing Zhang Yuchuan lead Ji Hong in, Xia Hong lightly waved his hand, first sealing the door with qi energy, then subtly filling the room with a trace of blood energy, before finally turning to Ji Hong and speaking with a touch of emotion.

“I was taken away from Hongmen by Chen Yiqing on the second day of the third month in the ninth year of Great Xia—three years and eight months have passed, exactly 1,323 days…”

As Ji Hong spoke, he walked to Xia Hong’s side; after uttering “1,323 days,” he dropped to his knees with a thud, his long-suppressed emotions bursting forth, his eyes instantly reddening.

“Your servant Ji Hong, pays homage to the Lord!”

1,323 days—he remembers the exact number…

Xia Hong had no doubt of Ji Hong’s loyalty to Great Xia; his sigh arose because Ji Hong remembered the days so precisely, proving that every single day since leaving Hongmen with Chen Yiqing, enduring the long journey to Chen Cang, and enduring his prolonged stay there, must have been a torment.

Not surprising—Chen Yiqing was his sworn enemy, the man who murdered his sister. Xia Hong knew Ji Hong and his sister Ji Jiang well; he understood Ji Hong’s nature—obsessive, extreme. Without doubt, Ji Hong blamed all of Chen Cang for his sister’s death.

“Stand up.”

Xia Hong looked at Ji Hong’s reddened eyes and smiled: “I remember you’re only three years younger than me—you’re not yet thirty. Back then, during the Wooden Puppet Plague on the earth mound, you and your sister embraced death—I sent Xia Chuan to persuade you, correct?”

Back then, it was the Lord himself who sent the Chief Secretary to counsel me!

Ji Hong’s expression froze; the hot tears in his eyes could no longer be held back—they streamed down his cheeks, his face filled with remorse: “The Lord gave my sister and me a second life, but young and foolish, I failed to protect her—Jiang was killed by Chen Yiqing…”

People grow. Nearly four years have passed; as Ji Hong’s hatred deepened daily, so too did his understanding of his sister Ji Jiang’s death.

Now, looking back, he realized her death stemmed entirely from his own carelessness toward outsiders. He remembered clearly: Chen Yiqing first approached him before the Hongmen battle in the eighth year of Great Xia—a chance encounter outside the city, idle talk at the Zhao family tavern, his own careless words—that was the origin of all calamity.

The more he recognized this, the more he suffered; he could only let his hatred grow unchecked, for only then could he numb himself, only then could he find purpose in the days ahead.

“...Ji Hong knows his sins are grave. Three years ago, when Chen Yiqing dragged me to Chen Cang, I harbored no other thought—I devoted myself entirely to gathering intelligence on the four vassal states: first, to serve Great Xia as a vanguard in its future unification of Mo’ao River, scouting enemy positions; second, to destroy Chen Cang and avenge my sister Jiang.”

Xia Hong had already deeply investigated Ji Hong and his sister’s story, but hearing Ji Hong’s remorseful account now, and learning his two goals for staying in Chen Cang, he looked at this young man barely three years his junior—and felt a quiet pang in his heart.

He pondered for over ten breaths, then sighed softly: “Grudges have a source, debts have a debtor—your enemy is Chen Yiqing. You need not blame…”

“My Lord, please look…”

Interrupted by Ji Hong, Xia Hong did not glance at the item he offered; instead, he met Ji Hong’s gaze. Seeing the firmness and resolve in his eyes, he paused, then abandoned his attempt to dissuade him.

Living, after all, requires some purpose.

Without this overwhelming hatred as fuel, how could Ji Hong, given his love for his sister, have endured so long in a place like Chen Cang?

Blaming all of Chen Cang for Ji Jiang’s death was extreme—Ji Hong surely knew that. But no matter how many words were spoken, Ji Jiang was dead; even if he killed Chen Yiqing, he could never bring her back.

Ji Hong had set himself an impossible goal—just to give himself a reason to keep living.

“Ah…”

Xia Hong sighed inwardly, and said no more.

He could not expose Ji Hong’s delusion—after all, it was Chen Yiqing himself who had provoked this ill-fated pair.

Let the future take care of itself.

What Ji Hong took from his person was a folded animal-skin scroll.

Xia Hong fully unrolled it and spread it across the table before him—his pupils instantly contracted in shock.

The scroll was a massive map—a map encompassing all four vassal states of Mo’ao River. The northern state of He Cang, central Cai Qiu, and eastern Wei Bo were only outlined with provincial borders and major city locations, plus partial terrain. But what held Xia Hong’s gaze was the southwest: Chen Cang.

Ji Hong had spent three years in Chen Cang; naturally, he possessed the most complete knowledge of it—and the map proved it.

The map of Chen Cang’s vassal state not only marked the precise locations of its five prefectures, seven cities, and Chen Cang city itself, with distances clearly noted, but also detailed every mountain, river, lake, trail, and even the number of slave villages.

Moreover, it recorded the exact positions of all garrisoned troops, their types and numbers, their commanders, their cultivation levels—and even their personalities, preferences, and backgrounds.

The map of Chen Cang was so detailed it included the westernmost edge of the Blood Miasma Plain: a place called Nine-Turn Blood Corridor. Xia Hong saw clearly—it ran along the western shore of Yanzehu, carved into the side of the Mo’ao Mountains; passing through it led to a location called Danxue Peak, and beyond that, southward, to the Dongchuan jurisdiction of Beishuozhen.

“Good, good, good—Ji Hong, you’ve done well!”

Xia Hong’s heart surged with excitement, his composure nearly slipping—he repeated “good” three times, gazing at Ji Hong, his pupils brimming with admiration.

The surprise Ji Hong brought was immense.

He suddenly recalled something and withdrew another animal-skin scroll from his person, unrolling it to reveal a map of Cai Qiu.

But his map only marked the locations of Cai Qiu’s four prefectures and seven cities; the most detailed sections—terrain, garrisons, and hidden details—were limited to Qinghuacheng and Linchu, plus a portion of the Blood Miasma Plain. Compared to Ji Hong’s, it was nothing.

“I entered Cai Qiu via Shigu Dao in August of the ninth year of Great Xia—my footsteps only reached Qinghuacheng and Linchu. Due to my sensitive status, I dared not probe further. Your map is vastly superior. With this, even without future war against Chen Cang, Great Xia already holds the advantage—excellent, excellent…”

Hearing Xia Hong’s excited tone, Ji Hong’s face showed a deep smile—but inside, he felt no great emotion.

“My Lord, you’ve forgotten—I became a formal scout of the Longwu Army before coming to Chen Cang. I knew the value of maps. For three years, beyond investigating Chen Cang’s strength, I devoted every spare moment to this map. And as my status in Chen Cang rose, this map has only grown more complete.”