Chapter 22

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Protagonist:

Xuan Ge

The next morning, the Shen Ce Fu was deathly quiet.

Light filtered through the carved window lattices, cutting intersecting geometric patterns of light and shadow across the bedding.

On the bed, the scene was rather "spectacular" — two generals of the Xianzhou Alliance, the Luofu's Shen Ce and the Shen Wu's commander, lay sprawled in utterly uninhibited postures.

Jing Yuan had half his body hanging off the edge of the bed, one arm dangling to the floor, white long hair spread out like a waterfall, tangled together with Xuan Ge's loose black high ponytail, impossible to tell apart.

Xuan Ge, meanwhile, lay spread-eagled occupying most of the bed, one leg brazenly propped on Jing Yuan's stomach; his armor had been discarded last night when the wine flowed freely, leaving only a close-fitting black robe, now wrinkled beyond recognition.

"Ding-ling— ding-ling—"

A crisp and persistent alarm bell shattered the post-drunkenness tranquility.

Jing Yuan's brows furrowed slightly; he shrank into the blanket and let out a muffled grunt.

Xuan Ge was even more irritable, smacking his lips and turning his head inward.

"Ding-ling— ding-ling—"

The alarm clock continued ringing unabashedly, persistent like a debt collector.

"Tsk."

Xuan Ge, eyes still closed, backhanded a slap — "Pa!" — a crisp sound, smashing the alarm clock to pieces.

The bell stopped abruptly. The world returned to quiet.

Only then did he slowly open his eyes; golden pupils still held lingering sleepiness and a thread of displeasure at being disturbed, staring at the intricate cloud patterns on the canopy for a few seconds.

Then, he moved, unceremoniously withdrawing the leg pressed on Jing Yuan's stomach and incidentally shoving the person beside him.

"Mmph..." Jing Yuan, pushed like this, finally woke up too.

He sat up slowly, a few strands of white hair sticking up in disarray, matched with his habitually lazy face — not a shred of the usual Shen Ce General's dignity.

He let out a long yawn, even the corners of his eyes squeezing out a bit of physiological tears.

Xuan Ge flipped over and sat up, scratched his equally messy hair, tone disdainful.

"What decent person... sets a damn seven AM alarm? Is that something a human does?"

His throat was a bit dry and hoarse from the hangover, voice carrying a rasp.

Jing Yuan rubbed his temples, smiling helplessly.

The two looked at each other, seeing the other's disheveled, sleepy-eyed venerable visage, and both let out low chuckles in unspoken accord.

What general's majesty — before old close friends and old wine, it's all floating clouds.

A simple wash-up, cold water splashed on the face, dispelled some of the lingering drunkenness.

They familiarly turned into a deep alley behind the Shen Ce Fu.

At the alley's end stood an unassuming yet bustling little shop, steam rising thick, giving off the aroma of noodles and braised meat.

The two filled their bellies, objective clear — You Qiu Yu.

Ten Kings Office Judge Xue Yi already stood before the incomparably heavy Xuan Iron Gate of You Qiu Yu like an ice sculpture.

Her face was cold and stern; seeing the two arrive together, she stepped forward, saluted with clasped fists, movements meticulous, voice as clear and cold as her temperament:

"Greetings, General Shen Ce, General Shen Wu."

Xuan Ge waved a hand, counting as a return salute, gaze sweeping over her face, casually asking:

"It's Xue Yi, just you alone? Where's your younger sister Han Ya?"

Xue Yi maintained the saluting posture, concise: "My younger sister still has official duties, unable to welcome you in person; hope the Generals will forgive."

"No matter, lead the way." Jing Yuan spoke, tone gentle.

Xue Yi turned, leading the two inward.

Light inside You Qiu Yu was dim and unclear; fine frost traces condensed on cold metal walls, the air permeated with an indescribable, oppressive atmosphere of iron rust and faint blood.

The passage was deep, as if leading to the earth's core.

The further down, the stronger that formless pressure became.

Faintly, sounds began to transmit — not screams, but a kind of suppressed-to-the-extreme, squeezed from the depths of the throat, intermittent groans and gasps, as if enduring endless lingchi.

The sounds echoed in the cold passage, adding several degrees of hair-raising dread.

Xuan Ge's steps didn't stop, but he lightly "tsk"ed, shook his head, tone carrying something hard to distinguish as sympathy or something else:

"Hu Lei that guy... really fell eight lifetimes of bad luck, just had to land in that female demon head's hands."

Jing Yuan heard this, glanced sideways at him, didn't speak, but a complex emotion flashed in his eyes.

The "female demon head" in Xuan Ge's mouth was naturally the former Luofu Sword Chief, Jing Yuan's master — Jing Liu.

Back when Jing Yuan was accepted as Jing Liu's disciple, not long after, he enthusiastically dragged Xuan Ge, then still a good friend and colleague, to meet the master.

Jing Liu's eyes, capable of piercing through sword heart and battle intent, lingered on Xuan Ge for a long time, giving the evaluation "outstanding talent, sharp edge fully revealed," clearly expressing the wish to teach him as well.

But Xuan Ge refused.

The reason: Jing Liu was too good-looking, white hair red eyes poked his SP a bit, he didn't want to be master-disciple...

Although Xuan Ge was only teasing, Jing Liu actually took it to heart...

Then she grabbed Xuan Ge and trained him to death for a year, finally giving up when Xuan Ge slowly turned the sword into spear practice.

But after that, the moment Jing Yuan slowly picked up the Formation Blade from the sword, Jing Liu really wanted to kill someone.

Amidst the conversation, they had already arrived at this trip's destination.

Xue Yi stopped before a door that looked no different from other cell doors, yet faintly had blue dragon-shaped energy patterns flowing; the Judge's Order in her hand flickered, and the door slid open soundlessly.

Stepping inside, the environment was starkly different from the oppressive corridor outside.

There was no smell of blood, no groans of pain; it could even be called "tidy."

Xuan Ge looked around and teased, "Jing Yuan, running low on funds? I'll send some more later if you need."

Xue Yi pursed her lips, wanting to explain the Ten-Lords Commission's rules to the Divine Might General — that the General could not interfere in Ten-Lords Commission matters.

But the thought that this was the Divine Might General made her hold her tongue.

Jing Yuan smiled and shook his head slightly, saying nothing more.

The space was not large — just a bed, a table, a chair, and a lamp, nothing else.

Four energy chains, silently extending from the darkness and glowing with a dim light, precisely clasped the wrists and ankles of the sole figure in the room.

Dan Heng sat before that simple table, his spine straight.

The chains' presence seemed not to affect his posture at all.

He held a scroll in his hands, reading with lowered eyes, his expression calm and focused, as if he were in a study rather than a prison.

Only when the door opened, letting in light and voices, did he slowly raise his head.

Seeing Dan Heng look over, Xuan Ge's face instantly bloomed with that habitual smile tinged with teasing, and he spoke to Dan Heng:

"Yo! Long time no see, Dan Heng."

He paused, his smile deepening, tone even more casual: "Last night I got drunk with Jing Yuan and accidentally polished off three jars of your Game Dragon Ferry... you don't mind, right?"

At the words "Game Dragon Ferry," the fingers of Dan Heng's hand holding the scroll tightened imperceptibly.

A surge of extremely complex emotion welled up in his heart — not a memory belonging to "Dan Heng," but something deeper, vaguer, stirred.

Within that emotion was a thread of distant, familiar warmth, but more of it was a faint displeasure and helplessness at having something private touched without permission.

The emotion came abruptly, making him frown slightly.

He set down the scroll and stood. The chains made a soft clatter with his movement.

He first gave Jing Yuan a slight nod, then turned his gaze to Xuan Ge. Those cyan eyes were calm and waveless as he spoke evenly:

"Divine Might General, I am not him. Those old things have nothing to do with me."

The smile on Xuan Ge's face did not change, as if he had not heard that line drawing a boundary.

He knew perfectly well that Dan Feng had passed away, reincarnated anew.

Even if those Dragon Masters had tampered with things, Dan Heng is Dan Heng, an independent individual who carries the past but is not the past itself.

This principle, he understood very clearly in his reason.

But... the hurdle in his heart sometimes does not follow reason.

He looked at the face before him, eight or nine parts similar to his old friend, yet younger and colder.

That straight-as-a-pine stance, that subconscious curve of the knuckles when holding a book.

Even the faint power aura of the Minglong Zun flowing around him... every bit reminded him of things lost.

Reason is one thing; feeling is another.

You say you're not him...

But you look like him, your temperament is like him, your stance when picking up a spear is like him, even your power flows with his shadow.

Xuan Ge could almost hear a whisper from some corner of his heart, nearly unreasonable, a thought that flashed and brought a faint sting.

He shook his head, as if to shake off those untimely thoughts.

"Right, right, right, you're not him, you're Dan Heng."

Xuan Ge went along readily, nodding, then circled back with a crafty smile.

"Then, Dan Heng, you still haven't answered me — do you mind or not? Those three jars of wine?"

The corner of Dan Heng's eye twitched imperceptibly.

He found it hard to completely ignore the man before him, and the taken-for-granted intimacy and deliberate unreasonableness in his words.

He took a deep breath, pressed down that inexplicable emotion, his voice still flat:

"General, please suit yourself. Since they are old things, how to dispose of them is entirely for the General and the Divine Strategy General to decide."

"Done! Refreshing!" Xuan Ge clapped his hands, his smile even more radiant.

"Then I won't be polite. I'll have someone move them all away in a bit.

Leaving them there is just leaving them; better I drink them, put them to good use, and console... hmm, console the purpose for which they were brewed."

Xuan Ge saw that when he said "move them all away," the corner of Dan Heng's usually expressionless mouth pursed downward imperceptibly, though it returned to normal in an instant.

Xuan Ge laughed inwardly: he still cares.

Not Dan Feng caring, but Dan Heng unable to fully sever that innate connection and emotion toward certain things.

"Alright, alright, I'll stop teasing you." Xuan Ge stopped while ahead, his mood seemingly much improved.

He waved a hand casually, and dark purple energy surged from his palm, quickly coalescing into three simply styled yet sturdy energy chairs.

"Standing and talking is tiring. Sit."

He sat down on the chair nearest Dan Heng as if in his own home, then gestured to Jing Yuan and Xue Yi.

Jing Yuan went along readily, settling into another chair, still with the leisurely posture of a bystander.

Xue Yi hesitated slightly, then carefully sat on the edge of the third chair.

Xuan Ge acted like he was in his own home, casually picking up the tea cup Dan Heng had just set on the table — half a cup of clear tea remained.

He glanced at it, didn't disdain it, and directly tilted his head back to take a sip, tasting it.

Setting down the tea cup, he suddenly turned his head to look at Xue Yi, whose nerves were taut at his side, his tone as casual as asking "how's the weather":

"Judge Xue Yi, I plan to take Dan Heng with me today. The Ten-Lords Commission side shouldn't have any objections, right?"

Xue Yi shuddered, a crack finally appearing on her icy face.

She almost instinctively replied in the most standard tone of a Ten-Lords Commission Judge defending the statutes:

"General! This is the Ten-Lords Commission's restricted area; Dan Heng bears a grave charge and is detained here by joint adjudication of the Ten-Lords Commission and the Alliance! How can you..... "

Her words could not be finished.

Because Jing Yuan raised a hand, gently yet firmly stopping her from continuing.

Jing Yuan's gaze fell on Xuan Ge's face; those ever half-narrowed Golden Eyes were now incomparably clear, flashing with a look of comprehension, even a thread of expectant light.

But his tone remained flat, carrying the Divine Strategy General's steady, businesslike composure:

"Xuan Ge." He slowly spoke, each word clear and forceful: "This is Luofu."

Xuan Ge listened, the smile on his face not diminishing in the slightest, instead deepening.

He nodded, as if unsurprised by Jing Yuan's answer, even rather satisfied.

"Not bad, this is Luofu." He said with a laugh, then stood up.

He reached out, lightly patting Dan Heng's shoulder — this action made Dan Heng's body stiffen slightly, the chains chiming softly.

Xuan Ge's gaze swept over the scrolls on the table: "Good tea~ good books. This place..... is also quite quiet, suitable for reading and contemplation."

Finished speaking, he withdrew his hand, turned and walked toward the Door Outside, steps relaxed, as if merely concluding an ordinary visit.

"Hehe." A low laughter lingered in the air.

Jing Yuan also rose, giving Dan Heng a slight nod, his face still bearing that inscrutable smile, then followed Xuan Ge's steps.

Xue Yi hurriedly stood up, closely following the two Generals, yet her mind was a mess.

Every word of their dialogue just now she had heard, but strung together, the repartee, implications, compromises and deals within, she could not understand at all.

The Divine Might General said he would take the person away, the Divine Strategy General said "This is Luofu", the Divine Might General laughed and nodded saying "Understood".

Then..... they just left? What exactly does this mean? Is the person being taken or not?

The heavy cell door closed soundlessly once more, sealing off inside from outside.

Dan Heng stood in place, the chains on his hands and feet still there.

He gazed at that tightly shut door, for a long, long time, not moving.

Everything that had just occurred — the dialogue, the smiles, the hand on his shoulder, and that final meaningful appraisal..... like a tide repeatedly washing over his heart.

Finally, he lowered his eyelids, gaze falling on the emptied tea cup and that scroll of books.

In the silent cell, he murmured two words extremely lightly, light as a sigh, yet also like a burden lifted:

"Thank you."