Chapter 641: Playing with Threats

Chapter 641: Toying with Threats

"Who is weaving this dream?!"

The moment Wang Xie's voice fell, the dense snowflakes fluttering down suddenly hovered eerily in midair, like white dots jumping on a damaged case file screen, giving rise out of nowhere to a strong sense of unreality.

It seemed the dreamweaver didn't even deign to hide the fact that this was a dream, candidly informing the two of their predicament.

Just as the two stared in shifting astonishment, a strange, discordant melody abruptly rang out.

"The Monarch's common surname is Zhao, he arrives at the palace bearing the precious decree."

The voice that rang out was piercingly sharp, as if someone were grinding gravel against glass, piercing the heart and entering the brain, sending chills down one's spine.

Simultaneously, the suspended snowflakes suddenly trembled in unison, their inexplicable frequency like a drumbeat keeping time.

Hot on its heels, another voice, vastly different from the previous one, deep and resonant, rang out in response to the prior shrillness.

"From whence does the Monarch come? To where does he go?"

"From the Yellow Millet Nether Sea I come! To the Chaos Mortal World I go."

"Traveling thousands of miles without shirking hardship, what manner of sights have you beheld?"

"From Shu I came to Chengdu Prefecture, passed the Thatched Cottage, went through the Marquis's Manor. One play civil, one play martial. Since ancient times wealth and nobility pass hand to hand; what path of reversal exists for the poor man's gate? Cooking rich feasts, drinking fine wine, yet bitterness heads straight for the mouth. If one wants to enjoy blessings in this life, one must be reborn in a dream to rise above."

This side sings: "Thank not Heaven, no rain falls; thank not Earth, grass grows not. Defy Heaven's will, struck by lightning; bow not to the Monarch, the dream works not."

That side harmonizes: "Thank Heaven, then rain falls; thank Earth, then grass grows. Follow Heaven's mandate, lightning strikes not; kowtow to the Monarch, the dream works true."

"The Nine Lords of Yin and Yang bestow fortune; the Title Siming you must heed."

Amidst the chorus, a figure clad in black robes and red trousers slowly manifested.

"If one is disrespectful, what crime? The cycle of reincarnation recites sutras for the dead."

An ancient, imposing golden mask covered the newcomer's face, and a voice devoid of any emotional color, cold and indifferent, drifted from within.

"Yin-Yang Sequence, Eastern Emperor Palace, Ninth Lord, Siming."

He Zangjia sprang up from the stool, the motion so violent it knocked over the empty wine jar on the table—crash! It shattered to pieces.

But before he, experiencing a dream for the first time, could recover his wits, a frigid flash of light swept past the corner of his eye.

The Embroidered Spring Saber returned to its sheath with a crisp *click-clack*.

"Old Wang, what do you mean by this?"

He Zangjia looked at the man beside him, his face full of shock.

"Didn't you hear the other person's entrance music? Eastern Emperor Palace Ninth Lord—at the very least a big shot who has touched the threshold of Sequence Three. What necessity is there for you to struggle against me?"

"Sequence what?"

He Zangjia's eyes bulged, seemingly unable to bear the sudden, violent fright, his figure swaying as he took a step back.

"Wang Xie, you confess honestly—what damned thing did you do to provoke them? To use such a massive cleaver to slaughter a little chick like you?"

Wang Xie replied irritably: "How is it certainly my trouble? Maybe they're here for you?"

"I'm just a hoodlum, a rogue—what virtue, what ability do I have?"

He Zangjia spread his hands, looking at the bizarre figure in the distance, squeezing out a fawning smile: "Right, my Lord?"

"Wang Xie, Hundred-Household Commander of the Chongqing Prefecture Brocade Guard; He Zangjia, Chief of the Sichuan-Chongqing Gambling Assembly."

Two points of cold, indifferent light lit up beneath the golden mask, sweeping across their faces in turn.

"This Lord's trip is precisely for the two of you."

"How can I be involved too? That shouldn't be right."

He Zangjia's face instantly turned deathly pale, as if mourning his dead parents; forcing himself to speak, he said: "I wonder what orders you have, my Lord, coming all this way to find this lowly one?"

"Approach Li Jun for the Eastern Emperor Palace."

The man calling himself 'Siming' spoke briefly, stating his purpose directly.

"Sure enough it's because of that bastard Old Li. I knew nothing good would come of associating with him. Look, the retribution has arrived?"

He Zangjia shot Wang Xie a look of 'I told you so', gnashing his teeth in hatred.

Before Wang Xie could speak, He Zangjia sighed heavily as if resigned, shoved Wang Xie aside, cupped his fists and asked: "I wonder how you wish us to approach him, my Lord? This lowly one hears he has already advanced to Sequence Three. If we are to do things like assassinate or poison, this lowly one fears I lack the ability and would delay your great undertaking."

"No need for you to act. Just await this Lord's orders. Whatever this Lord tells you to do, you do."

"Ah, so that's how it is."

He Zangjia suddenly realized, then felt his hem tugged; his face changed drastically, and he slammed a heavy palm onto Wang Xie's back, producing a dull thud.

"What time is it, and you're still thinking of benefits? Wang Xie, are you fucking crazy? The Lord deigning to order us is an honor—how can you only eye this petty profit?"

Wang Xie's brows knitted tight, his ten fingers clenched, his lowered gaze fixed on his toes.

"Refuse and die; betray Li Jun and die. If there's no benefit, why should I do it? Might as well die now."

"You stubborn mule! Do I have to die dragged down by you like with Li Jun before you're satisfied? Knowing you lot, I've had eight lifetimes of rotten luck."

He Zangjia grabbed Wang Xie by the collar, yanking him close, cursing with spittle flying.

"Enough. As long as you serve this Lord wholeheartedly, benefits will naturally not be lacking."

"Hmph, good thing the Lord is generous, or I'd have been done in by you."

Upon hearing this, He Zangjia instantly released Wang Xie's collar, his expression shifting like a revolving lantern—seeming gloating yet tinged with fear—rubbing his hands as he asked: "I wonder what benefits the Lord can bestow upon us? Rest assured, as long as the benefits are enough, never mind betraying Li Jun—if you told me to commit suicide right here, I wouldn't hesitate. I'd slit my own throat and spill some blood to bring you luck."

He Zangjia was utterly a greedy hyena who wanted money over life; his every word and deed lacked a shred of so-called backbone.

Even Wang Xie, a Brocade Guard, seemed cut from the same cloth deep down; an expectant expression surfaced on his face—equally greedy for life and afraid of death, yet blinded by profit.

"As long as you obey, this Lord can grant He Zangjia a technique for cultivating the Jichang field, letting you return to the true path of the Agriculture Sequence. As for you—"

The cold gaze turned to Wang Xie, precisely capturing the greed welling in his eyes.

"Wang Xie, this Lord can grant you the ritual to directly enter Sequence Four of the Horizontal-Vertical Sequence, giving you a stage grand enough to break through and ascend."

"Damn it, why does it sound like Wang Xie's reward is so much better than mine?"

He Zangjia muttered softly, grinning fawningly as he cupped his fists: "Thanks for the Lord's reward. However."

"However what?"

"This lowly one doesn't want any technique; I just want to ascend to Sequence Four like Wang Xie. I wonder if the Lord can grant this lowly one's wish?"

Wang Xie, who had just been beaming with joy, instantly changed expression upon hearing this; he twisted his head around and snapped viciously: "He Zangjia, what do you mean by this?"

"The Lord hasn't spoken yet—why are you panicking here?"

He Zangjia didn't even deign to glance at Wang Xie: "We're both selling our lives; what's wrong with getting the same thing?"

"I'm a Brocade Guard Hundred-Household Commander! What status do you have? Don't you know your place?"

"Strip off this skin, and we're all rotten flesh and black hearts. What are you putting on airs for?"

The two were like vicious dogs fighting over food, actually comparing the quality of the slop in the bowl right there on the spot.

Born Zhao Yin, titled Siming of the Yin-Yang Sequence, he watched the two with great interest; beneath the golden mask, he slowly spat out a single word.

"Permitted."

Amid the bitter exchange with Wang Xie, He Changjia clamps his mouth shut, eyes alight with delight: 'Thanks, sir, to cling to the thigh of the Eastern Emperor Palace is a blessing for a wretched soul. Rest easy, whatever you command shall be executed, and when I return I shall contact Li Jun, for my past feigned sincerity shall leave him unprepared.'

Wang Xie, hearing Zhao Sima acquiesce to He Changjia's demand, felt a sudden irritation, yet dared not speak further, only fixing a fierce glance upon He Changjia before raising a hand in a respectful bow.

The master's affairs, I shall attend to with utmost devotion.

Their words fell one after another upon the ground, yet strangely, no reply came from the opposite side.

Only those suspended snowflakes grew denser, inch by inch filling the sight of both.

A chill clings, seeping into the marrow, and He Changjia's smile, now grotesquely strained, turns toward Wang Xie.

'It seems the master harbors some distrust of you and me,'

Wang Xie intoned gravely: 'I have spoken no falsehood, nor performed a farce; I merely wish to live.'

'Nonsense, who the hell wants to die? We're all scheming to stay alive.'

He Changjia snarls at Zhao Sima: 'Sir, I know the rules. Your command is an honor. To undertake your task we must show due earnestness; why not set a condition that dispels your doubt, however great, and we shall oblige, even to the point of offering ourselves as pledges?'

'For the sovereign to trust you is no great feat.'

From beneath the richly embroidered robe a hand extends, pale as jade, fingertip lightly touching, two glimmering snowflakes hovering before Wang Xie and He Changjia.

'Let the sovereign imprint something upon your consciousness; today you two shall not die, and the benefit shall not be diminished in the least.'

'So simple, indeed, very well, very well,'

He Changjia sighs in relief, as if the hovering snowflake meant nothing, and casually asks: 'Sir, forgive my garrulousness, but what purpose does this hold?'

'It serves little purpose, yet it can purge from your mind certain thoughts and notions.'

'Why, that is a fine thing then.'

He Changjia's smile remains unchanged; he leans forward, mouth opening to swallow the snowflake.

Suddenly a hand darts from the side, snatching the snowflake into a clenched fist.

'Sir, we have fallen into your dream, our abilities insufficient, we concede. You would have us be traitors, to survive we accept, but to make us puppets with no chance of life—does that not exceed oppression?'

'Old Wang, what mischief are you brewing here?'

He Changjia's complexion shifts abruptly, but before he can finish, Zhao Yin cuts him off.

'Wang Xie, are you intending to refuse the sovereign?'

'I am not refusing, merely seeking discussion.'

'What qualification have you to bargain with the sovereign?'

Wang Xie's brows bristle with menace; his fist clutching the snowflake twirls, joints cracking like brittle shells.

'We can cooperate, but I shall not become a puppet; if no accord, then let us both perish.'

'What weapon have these two salted fish to break the net? Wang Xie, can you keep your mind clear?'

He Changjia interjects angrily at Wang Xie, bowing to Zhao Yin: 'Sir, Wang Xie is somewhat impetuous, yet his words hold some merit. You have not yet proved yourselves; how can you deem us treacherous? Grant us a chance, and should we fail, we shall willingly become puppets.'

Wang Xie snarls: 'He Changjia, why do you still plead for him? Do you not see that he is not here to rally today?'

'Silence!'

'Hahaha. How intriguing, these mortal sequences are truly fascinating.'

Suddenly, a roar erupts from beneath the golden mask: 'When the golden grain transforms, the sovereign shall surely keep two such intriguing sequencers to amuse him.'

Zhao Yin's mocking gaze sweeps over them: 'One seeks to feign weakness to strike back, the other to beg; they sing and harmonize, attempting to turn falsehood into truth, plotting to deceive the sovereign and slip from this dream. The play is well performed, yet you forget the sovereign is the dream's master; can you conceal your thoughts from him?'

With these words, He Changjia slowly loosens his clenched fist, while Wang Xie's right hand slowly closes around the hilt of a blade.

'But since you relish performance, the sovereign shall indulge you once more, two insignificant ants.'

Zhao Yin's laughter wanes, returning to the aloof, contemptuous detachment that looks upon all lives as mere foliage.

'The benefits promised remain unchanged, and your consciousness need not be disturbed; yet to draw near Li Jun for the sovereign's intelligence, a single soul suffices.'

Zhao Yin lifts a hand, pointing to the embroidered spring blade in Wang Xie's grasp: 'One blade, two souls. Either one lives, or both die; choose.'

'It seems the performance has utterly collapsed.'

He Changjia rubs his sore smile, self-mocking: 'I thought I could temporarily pacify this fool, yet it turned out our brothers were used as dogs. Old Wang, we have become a laughingstock.'

Wang Xie erupts in laughter, his long blade emerging with a ringing, crystalline note.

'Spare me, your acting is such that you have never deceived anyone in a lifetime.'

He Changjia sighs: 'Indeed, not only you, even I have forgotten how to act. Having stood so long, I nearly forget how to kneel. Let it be—death arrives, and I have known the glory of the Golden Hall, the honor of command; I harbor no regret.'

He Changjia raises a hand, beckoning Zhao Yin: 'Come, child. What are you waiting for, damn it?'

Facing He Changjia's provocation, Zhao Yin stares bizarrely as if blind, his gloomy gaze fixed upon the two behind.

Thump..thump..

Suddenly, within this dream, a muffled knocking resonates, one after another.

The frequency quickens, the clamor swells, until the final blow reverberates like thunder, the entire dream shuddering, snowflakes cascading from the heavens.

He Changjia and Wang Xie exchange glances, both seeing a sudden surge of delight in the other's eyes, then abruptly turn their heads.

'Are you deaf, not hearing a knock? Must I kick the door open, you wretched thing?'

Zhou Siji, hands in pockets, steps out from a warped glow, shoulders swaying.

'My Uncle Zhou, you have indeed arrived. Had you been a moment later, I would have lost my life here.'

He Changjia's demeanor is ecstatic, tears glimmer in his eyes, as if he longs to rush and clasp Uncle Zhou's leg.

'What is acting? This damned thing is acting!'

Wang Xie watches, dumbfounded, his heart wavering, ultimately forced to admit he falls far short of He Changjia.

Not merely flawless acting, but also a visage as unbreakable as bronze walls and iron ramparts.

'Uncle Zhou, beware; the opponent is one of the Nine Lords of the Eastern Palace,' Wang Xie warns.

'What nine lords? Now only six remain, and soon only the fifth will be left.'

Zhou Siji stands before them, head high, looking down on Zhao Yin: 'Your lot are truly rats, playing only vile tricks, never inventing anything else? The reputation of Yin‑Yang Sequence has been ruined by you, yet you do not reflect, waiting for me to raze your Eastern Palace before you repent?'

A barrage of curses pours like a storm, and Zhao Yin's face turns instantly iron‑gray.

'Zhou Siji, I know you are in Shu. This time I come only to warn you: do not think that becoming a dream‑master allows you to act arrogantly, disregarding the Eastern Palace. The deity's lord said, considering your promotion is not easy...'

'Since you know I am coming, how dare you act so arrogantly, as if you do not regard Uncle Zhou at all? Very well, then why bother with words—shall we meet elsewhere for a duel?'

The snowflakes across the sky suddenly boil, converging upon Zhao Yin's location.

'Caught by me, you still wish to flee? Can you escape?'

Zhou Siji, face full of contempt, pulls out his pockets, lunges forward, and hurls a fist at Zhao Yin.

This scene unfolding before the eyes of the two figures behind him, they suddenly found themselves rooted in bewilderment.

Those scorching waves of fury bore no trace of harmony with the cosmic order of Yin and Yang.

It was nothing but a wild, unruly force that had burst into a dreamscape, shattering its very essence.

Boom!

Zhao Yin’s meticulously woven dreamscape exploded in an instant, as though mirrors had shattered and their fragments fled.

The dazzling lights from the Golden Tower regained their brilliance, and the clamor of the bustling crowd returned to clarity.

The He Zhan and Wang Xie, now freed from the dream, blinked sharply, gazing at the familiar yet foreign scene before them, as if waking from a distant past.

Without noticing, the two had unknowingly seated themselves at the same table, where Li Jun had silently arrived and was savoring midnight snacks with ease.

Zou Siu sat across from him, idly propping up his chin with one hand, his eyes half-lidded as if caught in a drowsy haze.