Reborn To Be The Imperial Consort [BL]-Chapter 94: Thalassotélos — XXIII

A fortnight later, with the first ray of the rising sun on the dawn of the summer solstice, what remained of surviving immortal spirits arrived en masse at the site where Hu Lijing’s execution was to be held, their arrival accompanied by the warm sun falling on their bodies and heralded by the tumultuous cacophony of their fearful and subdued chatters.

The crowd gathered together, drawn to each other by the shared experience of having survived a calamity of the highest calibre.

Hushed chatters, idle gossip and tentative words went around, one voice saying something and another something else. Some chimed in, some interjected.

But there was one common subject of their harsh words, the nine-tailed fox who was to be executed today.

"—I heard he’s a ferocious looking monster, fiery and destructive like the fire he was born from—"

"—It is not the case," someone refuted, shaking their head as they pursed their lips, a grim frown adorning their face. "From what I have heard, the nine-tailed fox of flames is a very, very attractive man, and that too not just by his looks alone, but his personality as well."

"—Lies—!" A common reaction, disbelief and indignation. How could they be willing to acknowledge, much less believe that the spirit who had slaughtered so many of the could be anything but a hideous monster?

"—Do not spread lies nor rumours!—"

"—How can that monster be anything but an unsightly being?!" A shrill screech sounded from the back of the crowd, questioning and angered severely. "I’ve lost my son to that man! And his wife— she— she was a monkey spirit and was with a child too!"

Bewildered gasps. "Such atrocious deeds!"

"To kill a mother!"

"A woman heavy with a child?!"

The man who had proclaimed the nine-tailed fox spirit to be attractive did not back down from his words either, stubbornly taking his stand as he snapped his head back, addressing the shrill voice.

"When did I ever say he was a good being?! Did you hear me call him an innocent man?!" He snarled. "Old hag, all I did was acknowledge his beauty that I’ve witnessed with my own two eyes! Our elders did say that the most hideous of hearts are hidden behind the most beautiful faces!"

More shouts ensued, muffled protests and clamouring quarrels filled the public square. No one seemed particularly keen on backing down.

The most common subject of their curses, their condemnation, was the man who was to be executed today—Hu Lijing.

All the people gathered around in relative solemnity — if a bit agitated — were the people of the only clan that was left standing, the clan of dragons. In the war that had managed to wipe out every other clan, theirs was the only one that survived though at the cost of their own Clan Leader.

As the crowd started becoming more and more agitated under the direct gaze of the warm morning solstice sun, before the fight could dissolve into an uncouth brawl, a loud boom of war drums bursted out, effectively silencing the deafening noise as every head turned to look at the source of the drum.

The birds trilled their shrill song as the noise of flapping wings accompanied the rattling beats of drum.

With every strike, the crowds could feel their heart seize, anticipation flowed in the webs of their veins, the venom of hatred mixing with the blood coursing through their bodies as their seeking eyes caught the sight of a familiar shade of amber, burning like the embers and bright like the cruel flames was the hair adorning the criminal’s head.

The crowd fell silent, their eyes inadvertently attracted by the bright colour of the man in the sea of black and whites of mourning. They should feel hatred, they should feel boiling rage, they should pick up something — anything, stone, blade — and hurl it in the man’s direction.

Their tongue should be laced with venom, curses, profanities and words of abuse should be rained on the man walking towards them.

But instead, they found themselves, tongue-tied and in a trance as they watched the men surrounding him drag him towards the wooden platform raised in front of them, his executioner standing tall with burning rage in his eyes.

A vast entourage, a sea of black and white surrounding the man, a retinue of criers walking before and after him, their voices strong and resounding were silent as they held the lengthy scroll detailing his name and his crimes, a solemn affair studded in stifling silence and an air thick with fear, trepidation and anticipation in equal parts.

It — by no means — was a glorious affair. Nor his deeds worthy of glorification. Yet the way he was dressed, the way the man carried himself, an ignorant one would wrongfully assume the occasion to be held in order to commend his actions and declare his glory rather than the dismal reality of his execution—if not for the luminous golden chains binding his hands and feet as he was dragged forward.

The crowd parted, like the sea would when the dragon of infinite sea walked through it, immediately and urgently as the man and the entourage in all their monotone regalia passed by them, the silence was thick and heavy as though a blanket had fallen over the previously rowdy and agitated sea of masses.

Cacophony of birds, their nearly mournful calls rose above it all, the clinking of immortal binding chains shackling the man’s hands and feet as he walked with his head bowed hammered on the people’s heart, rendering them breathless as the watched in stupor, eyes stuck to the amber-haired condemned.

The winds howled, its haunting call, its caresses blowing the stray locks of his hair such that they clung to his face. Emerald robes hung from his seemingly frail person, long amber hair woven into a simple loose braid and a humble hairpin clasped in it.

His attire was nearly ceremonial if not for the simplicity of it. Pallid skin and sharpened features, reddened lips and downcast eyes. One would not be able to tell him apart from a man who killed thousands to a man who wished to lead a normal life.

Such was the game of heaven.

As the people reeled back, mothers pulling their children behind them, men standing guard in front of them and the elderly shaking their heads in lament.

A dismal scenery of farewell for a man who lived a dismal life and committed horrible crimes.

Contrary to the frail image he portrayed, power unimaginable to the normal masses bled from his very person, erratic and frantic as it flickered in and out, like the bright from which he was born.

To destroy, to conquer and to rule. And yet, here he was, bound by chains and surrounded by weaklings unworthy of being in his presence.

How far he had fallen, Hu Lijing didn’t know. Displeasure clung to his heart, the vices of poisoned arrogance dragging its sharpened claws through his heart as two men, dressed in white and black, pulled him up on the platform.

Likened to the twin ghosts and impermanence, they stood guard on either side, stoic eyes trained on him where he stood, watching his feet with consternation between his brows.

Facetious was the laughable circumstances of his execution. The victors were his judges, jury as well as his executioners.

He deserved it, he wouldn’t deny that. He had taken lives more than he could be bothered to count. But still, the nine-tailed fox would have preferred being done away on his own terms instead of his death being turned into some sort of entertaining spectacle for the public to watch and draw satisfaction from.

He drew a quiet breath, closing his eyes as he let his thoughts fill the silence of his mind. Beggars could not be chooser and not everyone was a fortunate enough to be given small mercies.

Certainly not criminals like him.

Perhaps because the docile attitude he had adopted, preferring to pass away peacefully than in resentment, the crowd found its voice, again, though fearful words of condemnation and abuse spilled out of their lips in an unstoppable deluge.

Hu Lijing didn’t react, he didn’t have much energy within himself. Nor could be do anything to the harsh words hurled at him, those voices blurring into intelligible noises long before he could fully comprehend them.

A moment later, as he stood, the nine-tailed fox’s eyes snapped open, amber irises gleaming sharply as he raised his head, fringes framing his face as his knife-like gaze flickered around, taking in the sight of the crowd.

A single gaze. That was all it took to silence the en masse of spectators, tension heightening as the fox’s gaze fleeted towards the entourage who escorted him, his gaze searching.

Where was Long ZhenHai?

Did he not come to see Hu Lijing even in his final moments?

Especially after the intimacy they shared a fortnight ago. For a moment, Hu Lijing felt his heart ache, a feeling of being wronged rising in his chest as he pursed his lips.

He really wanted to see the dragon for the last time.