Chapter 78: A Lonely Banquet, A Silent Departure
It was night.
The Netherworld Zhu Mansion.
The surrounding courtyard was silent and dark, but within the banquet hall, candlelight burned steadily.
A lavish round table was laid out with a full spread of dishes, each meticulously prepared. Yet, only one person sat at the head seat—Zhu Zhuqing, her gaze vacant as she stared at the untouched feast.
The candle flames swayed gently, casting flickering shadows that danced across the walls and floor, reflecting her solitary figure in the wine cup—a silent image of loneliness.
The moon hung high, veiled in a layer of mist. A cold, pale glow enveloped the outside world, further isolating the banquet hall in quiet brightness.
"Master, the food is getting cold," a maid said softly from outside the hall, breaking the stillness.
The once-young girl who had fought for her freedom had now become a woman who held her destiny in her own hands. She was the rightful master of the Netherworld Zhu Mansion.
Just as her uncle had once wished, she had abolished the family's cruel traditions. With the fall of the Xingluo royal family, the girls of the Zhu clan were now free from their fates, able to choose their own paths.
"Please help reheat it," Zhu Zhuqing said softly, her voice tinged with a distant sorrow.
It was already deep into the night, and the person she waited for had not come.
Would he come at all?
She didn't know.
But she was still waiting.
"Yes, Master."
The maids quietly came and went, replacing the cold food with warm dishes. The table was restored to its original setting, again and again, as time passed in silence.
Soon, the food cooled once more. A maid hesitantly approached.
"Master, it's already very late… Why don't you go rest?"
Zhu Zhuqing seemed to stir from her trance.
"You all go rest. There's no need to reheat the food again," she murmured.
"He won't come…"
"Then Master, you—" The maid looked hesitant.
"I'll wait for him here…" Zhu Zhuqing's voice was faint, heavy with emotion.
The maid sighed and quietly departed. As the food was reheated one more time, another figure entered—Deacon Liu, her long-time supporter and advisor.
"Miss Zhuqing, I heard you haven't rested yet."
Zhu Zhuqing forced a smile. "Uncle Liu, I'm fine. Why trouble yourself?"
"They were worried. Asked me to check on you," Deacon Liu said with a kind smile, settling down across from her and pouring himself a drink.
"Do you know why I always supported you, even when others said you were destined to lose?"
"Because of my uncle's instructions?" Zhu Zhuqing asked, surprised.
"That was part of it. But not all," Deacon Liu replied, sipping his drink.
"Then why?"
"Because you're different."
He refilled his cup and continued, "You've always been stubborn. Once you set your mind on something, you don't back down. Even when you left the clan, I knew you had a plan."
"That's why I believed you could succeed."
Zhu Zhuqing fell silent.
"You're the head of the family now. But if one day you decide you no longer want that burden—if you want to follow your heart instead—then go."
"You've suffered enough."
"Uncle Liu…" Zhu Zhuqing's eyes reddened as her hands trembled, lifting her wine cup.
"I… Can I really leave?"
"If you want to go, then go," Deacon Liu said firmly. "And if one day you want to come back, come back. You'll always be the head of the Zhu family."
Zhu Zhuqing lowered her head, struggling with emotions that surged like tides.
Finally, she stood up, voice quivering. "Uncle Liu, I…"
Just then, hurried footsteps echoed outside the hall.
A maid rushed in, breathless and anxious. "Master, there's news from the imperial city—His Majesty Qin Chuan has left. He's returned to the Tiandou Empire…"
Zhu Zhuqing's body trembled violently.
Her pale face lost what little color remained as tears streamed down her cheeks.
Deacon Liu could only sigh, lowering his gaze in silence.
…
Outside Xingluo City.
A dark, unadorned carriage rumbled softly through the night, disappearing past the city gates.
Inside, Qin Chuan leaned quietly against the wall, eyes closed in rest.
Across from him, Ye Lingling occasionally lifted the curtain to glance back at the fading lights of Xingluo City. Her sigh broke the silence.
"Your Majesty… Leaving like this—is it really alright?"
Qin Chuan didn't open his eyes. "It would have been worse if we hadn't."
For some things, once they begin to sprout, only two paths remain:
Accept it, or end it decisively.
There was no third choice.
Not in Qin Chuan's heart.
Letting things drag on was never his style.
Ye Lingling sighed again. "Your Majesty, when you return… are you going to Sea God Island?"
"If there are no surprises—yes."
"…Alright."
Ye Lingling lowered her eyes. She wanted to ask if she could go with him again, just like now. But in the end, she said nothing.
…
At the same time.
Slaughter City. The Hell Killing Field.
A cold-eyed youth dressed in black drove a long sword through his opponent's throat.
As the blade was pulled out, a crimson spray painted the ground—and his body.
"The 72nd match. Shura wins."
As the referee's voice rang out, a new wave of frenzied cheers erupted.
Madness. Depravity. Fanaticism. Hysteria.
The crowd chanted as blood rained down.
"Shura!"
"Shura!"
"Shura!"
——————
Pump up the power stone