...

The restaurant, Jin Cui, was the most luxurious in Yangzhou City. It presented the finest cuisines, some of which were even inherited from a thousand years ago. They could never be found elsewhere even in Chang'an.

But it was nothing for the important figures of the clans in Qinghe Prefecture. They did not pay any attention to the dishes on the table or make any toast. The hot dishes gradually became cold in the autumn wind.

"Master, shall we kill or not?" the steward kneeled on one knee outside the gate and asked with a trembling voice. He could no longer stand the deadly quietness in the room and wanted a quick answer.

The two men in the carriage were the envoys that Chang'an sent to the Divine Halls of West-Hill. There had been deeply seated hatred between Qinghe Prefecture and Chang'an and there was no way for them to compromise. In order to pledge loyalty to West-Hill and not create trouble, they should never treat these two men as guests.

Indeed, there were people in West-Hill who wanted these two alive, while others resolutely wanted them killed.

However, it had been a long while and they could already hear the wheels of the carriage grinding on the pavement. But it was still deadly quiet inside.

The masters of the clans in Qinghe Prefecture looked either stern or cold. They said nothing. They did not even blink their eyes, as if they were a group of statues.

When Jun Mo and Mu You stepped into the manor by the Fuchun River, Ning Que shot the Old Cui with his iron arrow. Ever since then the clans in Qinghe Prefecture had lost their confidence and stayed low. Therefore these masters were hesitating and struggling to make a decision.

They did not have enough information to reach a reasonable conclusion. Therefore they had been waiting for the latest news from Chang'an and other prefectures of the Tang. They wanted to make sure whether the imperial court had indeed carried out the killing as they heard, and whether they had indeed become so ruthless.

Several sharp whistles cracked the grey sky and the pattering autumn rain. They entered the restaurant and brought them the confirmed news.

It was true. They had been carrying out killing in Chang'an, Gushan Commandery, the North Battalion, and everywhere else in the Tang empire.

Thousands of captives were killed. Half of the families of Tang's traitors were slaughtered. He Mingchi's family was killed. Even the relatives of Xiong Chumo, the Hierarch, were killed. Too many people had died in this autumn rain.

People in the restaurant were prepared for this news. They could never forget that spring before the Tang and West-Hill came to a peace treaty, when Ning Que led the Yulin Royal Guards and members of Fish-dragon Gang into the Qinghe Guild and killed everyone inside.

Those killed in the Guild back then were their brothers, children, and families. How could they ever forget?

The masters of the clans became even more stern as if they were the gloomy sky before a storm or an ice engraving under the sunlight. They seemed cold from inside out.

But they did not give the order to attack that carriage.

After a long while, the deadly quietness was eventually ended by an old voice. It was the most senior clan master of the Song family. He watched the rain outside and said helplessly, "Please welcome our honored guests."

...

...

Without fighting or killing, Chu Youxian and Chen Qi walked into the restaurant and went upstairs only to be welcomed warmly and heartily by the seven clan masters.

The previous dishes were already replaced by newly cooked ones which smelled extremely good. The room was lit and warmed up by candlelights and felt cozy despite the chilling autumn wind outside.

The masters of the clans were like statues coming alive. They wore warm and gentle smiles and seemed very sincere. Some even took the hand of Chu Youxian and escorted him to the seat. They recalled the past glory of the Academy and bowed to Chen Qi. They were drinking cheerfully and even talking about who was the prettiest dealer in the Silver Hook Gambling House to the west of the city.

It was almost like the times from many years ago when the clans used to humbly host the envoys from Chang'an. It seemed as if nothing had happened throughout these years, as if the Tang army was never wiped out in the Great Swamp, the loyal officials were never hanged by them along the streets, and Ning Que never killed those people in Qinghe Guild. That spring rain never fell. Neither did this autumn rain.

After the greetings came the welcoming feast. They were not welcoming the chilling autumn wind. But rather, the clans were hoping that these two were merely here to take some bribes.

They represented the imperial court and the Academy. As long as they were not here to take lives, the clans were more than willing to present anything they wanted.

The masters lowered their voices and they could almost not be heard under the cover of the autumn rain and the arrays. Even if the Great Divine Priests of the West-Hill were to come by themselves, they probably could not hear what they were talking about.

"What does Her Royal Highness and Mr. Thirteen want?" The master of the Song family looked at Chu Youxian and Chenqi, and said humbly, "It does not matter if it's gold or mines, or even my life, we are willing to negotiate."

Ning Que wanted a negotiation with the world, so did the world with him. He had killed so many people in the autumn rain and demonstrated his resolution to the world. As he had expected, the Qinghe Prefecture was now pleading for a talk.

He already threw in his wagers, the human lives. The clans in the Qinghe Prefecture had to think about their future. The Divine Halls of West-Hill might be able to win the war eventually. But being sandwiched between the Tang and the Divine Halls, they would have a very slim change to survive the war.

However, things always went the opposite as people wished. They were reluctant when Chang'an wanted to negotiate. Now they were pleading for it while Chang'an became reluctant. At least Chu Youxian and Chen Qi did not want a talk. They could talk about the sceneries in the Academy or the prettiest dealer in the gambling house, but not this.

It was because people in Chang'an knew clearly that the Qinghe Prefecture could never became a part of Tang again. And that was also the precondition the clans wanted before a negotiation. In that case, a negotiation would mean nothing.

Seeing that Chu Youxian and Chen Qi were just enjoying the dishes without giving any feedback, the master of the Song family asked after a while, "What's the point of doing this?"

Chen Qi put down the dark wooden chopsticks and stared at him calmly, "What do you mean? By killing those people?"

"The people whom Mr. Thirteen could kill are no more than tens of thousands. When he has killed all the captives and hostages, what can he do next?" The master of the Song family showed his concern sincerely, "He could not destroy the entire world by himself."

Chen Qi stared at him calmly and looked around at those elegantly dressed and imposing clan masters. He could not refrain from laughing.

He realized that it was exactly the same as Ning Que said before they left Chang'an. It was interesting that the more they killed, the more obedient people became. Even they were inflamed, they dared to do nothing.

His laughter faded and Chen Qi calmed down to a profound silence. It felt weird and made those around him feel restless.

Chen Qi recalled Ning Que's words but he did not repeat it. Instead, he asked directly, "Who is planning to kill us?"

The master of the Song family asked right away, "The Hierarch."

...

...

At night, Chen Qi and Chu Youxian sat by a table and thought about the previous feast as well the things the clans had asked for. They looked at each other and shook their heads.

"What are they thinking about? Are they playing or wagering on both sides? Don't they know they are not even qualified for a negotiation? How could they extravagantly hope that the imperial court would accept their autonomy, and just impose tax instead of stationing troops here?" Chu Youxian mocked.

Chen Qi said, "These clans would never surrender to the imperial court. They are just trying their luck and expressing some kindness in advance. Mr. Thirteen's killing is indeed terrifying for many. These people in the south have always been arrogant and think of themselves as privileged. Otherwise how could they have turned to the West-Hill? But they never know what Mr. Thirteen really wants." He recalled Ning Que's words again and shook his heads while laughing. But in his laughter there was nothing by coldness.

Chu Youxian said, "I wonder how w.a.n.g Jinglue is doing there."

Chen Qi said, "He has been negotiating with those young people on behalf of Mr. Thirteen for years. I suppose he'll do fine." The important figures in the restaurant thought Ning Que's killing was meaningless. Yet according to Chen Qi, their welcoming feast was rather meaningless.

Ning Que never wanted a talk with these clans, but rather with those young people. It was because he thought they were the hope.

In the following morning, Chu Youxian and Chen Qi set off again. The accepted the kindness and fortune presented by the clans. But they did not leave any words.

The masters of the clans stood by the lake and looked at the s.h.i.+p fading into the foggy Great Swamp. They recalled the look on Chen Qi's face yesterday in the restaurant and felt scared. Because it was a look of seeing the dead.

...

...

The Great Swamp was boundless. They could not see any of its edges and felt like tiny creatures traveling in an ocean.

Chu Youxian knew they would probably be killed on Peach Mountain. So he simply shook off the concerns and enjoyed the lake view. He stood in the cold rain with a bottle of fruit wine in his hand, as if he was an impoverished man of letters.

It was a pity that his good mood disappeared in no time because many huge s.h.i.+ps were approaching them. The sails of those huge s.h.i.+ps blotted the sky while they approached imposingly like moving mountains.

There came the navy of the South Jin.