Hua Manting withdrew her hand, which had nearly twisted Xie Ziyin's ear, and surveyed the black-clad woman before her. Observing that most had already begun eating yet none had finished, she wondered—was this how one washed one's hands? Proper or not, it hardly seemed to matter.
"Are you in charge here?" Hua Manting inquired. "What is this place, and why have you brought us here?"
The black-clad woman shifted her gaze to meet Hua Manting's, her eyes cool and imperious. "The Nine Death Palace," she replied, "is a place you enter, but from which you cannot leave."
The name struck Hua Manting for the first time; others had already heard it once before, yet even for them it sent a shiver down the spine. Suddenly, the dishes before her seemed less appetizing. The very name, Nine Death Palace, suggested "nine deaths and one survival," far more unnerving than a mere Ten Death Palace.
"You," the woman said, lifting her jade hand to point at the young mother clutching her daughter, "sit according to your designated place. I shall not repeat myself a third time."
The young mother trembled violently, holding her child tightly, too frightened to meet the woman's gaze.
Suddenly, a loud bang—a window flung open by the wind—startled everyone. The gusts swept in, stinging their eyes and pelting their faces with icy rain. Strangely, the wind seemed only to affect the ten of them; the cups, plates, and teapots on the table remained perfectly still, as did everyone else in the room.
A bolt of lightning tore through the pitch-black sky, followed by a resounding clap of thunder: crack! Rumble—rumble—rumble!
The prisoners shrank in their chairs, curling tighter, wishing to vanish into the floor. Lightning and thunder struck in relentless succession, hammering their hearts as though the next bolt might strike them directly.
The young mother held her daughter closer; the child, perhaps from fright or her mother's tight embrace, wailed pitifully, her face buried in her mother's chest. A young lady shrank silently into her chair, quietly crying.
The old man rolled his eyes, yet clutched stubbornly at his half-eaten meat bun, forcing himself to remain conscious. The pair of ruffians huddled together, sobbing like helpless children—mere paper tigers.
The young boy, by contrast, either unshaken by fear or innately composed, remained seated upright, expressionless, eyes closed only against the wind.
Hua Manting gently waved her hand, summoning a faint, pinkish barrier that shielded the table from wind and muted the thunder. Slowly, the group relaxed, gazing in awe at the translucent, almost imperceptible veil.
"Let go," Xie Ziyin said quietly, appearing beside the young mother, patting her shoulder. "You're smothering the child."
Startled, the mother adjusted her hold, revealing her daughter's face, which was still breathing steadily, though eyes remained tightly shut. Xie Ziyin's hand passed gently over the girl's forehead, infusing her with a soft white energy. Gradually, the girl's eyes fluttered open. "Mother," she murmured.
The mother moved to thank him, but Xie Ziyin lightly patted her shoulder and turned to close the window.
At that instant, a tremendous metallic clang echoed through the hall, like a bell struck violently. A single clang followed by a continuous, low hum, punctuated at intervals by further clangs, made everyone shiver.
Unlike thunder, this resonance seemed to vibrate within the skull, thrumming in the chest, unbearable and oppressive, as though their hearts might rupture at any second. Even cupping their ears did little to quell the agony.
The crystal barrier failed.
Hua Manting's heart faltered briefly, but she quickly steadied herself. Her eyes caught the faintly trembling Youming Ding—the source of the sound. Yet no one had touched it. The fire inside still burned steadily, flames flickering in tandem with the cauldron's quiver.
Xie Ziyin must have set the two chairs ablaze to light it. Even after burning for half a day, the wood remained slow to consume, the fire sustained—perhaps due to the cauldron's peculiar properties.
Hua Manting thought him foolish. If he feared the cold, a simple protective barrier would suffice. Yet his cultivation favored offense over defense; he had little study in shielding arts. She herself, trained in defensive and escape techniques by her father and elder brother, had perfected a variety of utility barriers.
Xie Ziyin stood behind her, granting a measure of reassurance.
The monstrous clangs continued mercilessly. Several had slid from their chairs, writhing in discomfort; the old man lay supine, half a meat bun fallen beside him. Xie Ziyin rushed to check—he was gone. Age and a frail heart had succumbed.
Attempting to use his magic, Xie Ziyin found it had utterly failed; he could no longer wield his cultivation! He froze in disbelief.
Hua Manting seized his arm, signaling that she wished to speak. Amidst the deafening clangs, words were impossible; gestures sufficed, and their minds aligned.
Xie Ziyin lifted the young boy, while Hua Manting approached the young mother, signaling that she would sit beside her daughter. The mother understood but would not release the child. Hua Manting's patience thinned, the ceaseless resonance gnawing at her nerves. She forced herself to remain calm, gesturing reassurance without touching.
Xie Ziyin examined the girl, noting her eyes closed and faint pulse, confirming she had been stunned by the vibrations. The mother, panic-stricken, loosened her grip. Xie Ziyin placed the girl safely in a nearby chair. Hua Manting seated herself, noting the boy had taken position beside her.
Swiftly, Xie Ziyin helped others to their chairs. The moment everyone was settled, the monstrous clang ceased. Their ears still rang faintly.
Xie Ziyin sent a gentle stream of white energy to the girl, reviving her fully. Tears glimmered in the young mother's eyes as she offered profuse thanks; Xie Ziyin nodded silently.
"This is right," said the black-clad woman, "follow the rules, and you may live a little longer." She gestured; the line of black-clad attendants holding basins flanked the table, one at each side of the prisoners. Two strong men removed the old man's body.
"What happened to grandpa?" the little girl asked, her voice innocent. The mother hurriedly covered her mouth, but Hua Manting stopped her. "Grandpa is resting; they've taken him to recover," she said, diverting the child's attention.
"Wash your hands before eating, can't you?" the black-clad woman scolded. "No manners."
Hua Manting mused silently: hadn't you told us to eat more, quickly?
She then inquired, "Is this some illusory space within the mirror?"
The woman's smile was faint, cold. "Princess, always so impatient. The fun lies in discovery, not in having the answers served."
"You know who I am?" Hua Manting asked, quietly surprised.
"Not only you," the woman replied lightly. "I know everything about everyone here."
"You still dared to kidnap me!" Hua Manting exclaimed. "Do you not fear my elder brother will flatten this place?"
"I dare not," the woman said. "But my master dares."
Before Hua Manting could inquire further, the woman interrupted: "Princess, be patient. Enjoy the meal. Your master has specially prepared your favorite dishes."
Hua Manting froze, glancing at the scattered fare. Most were indeed her preferred dishes, though not all. Surely, the 'master' she had in mind must be someone she once knew—but who could dare imprison her in a phantom realm to play games?
"Eat in order, or you will regret it," the woman admonished. Everyone turned and washed their hands diligently. The ruffians scrubbed furiously, as if washing by halves had never occurred in their lives.
Hua Manting seized a maid's wrist, palpating her pulse. As suspected, something was amiss—just as she had suspected.
Once handwashing concluded, the black-clad attendants removed the initial dishes and replaced them with identical servings, some even in double portions, such as the roast chickens. Xie Ziyin placed two before the young lady and the mother.
The ruffians had monopolized the first chicken; even if one managed to grab a piece, the sight of their rough hands tearing at it spoiled any appetite. But the aroma of the roast chicken permeated the hall, irresistible. Even Xie Ziyin, usually indifferent to chicken, felt tempted; Hua Manting, ever fond of it, could not resist sneaking glances.
One chicken remained. Xie Ziyin dismantled it with precision, arranging the meat neatly by section, then offered the wings to Hua Manting, a leg to the young boy, and another leg to the little girl.
The girl's eyes sparkled; she smiled, looking up sweetly. "Thank you, brother."
"You're welcome," Xie Ziyin replied, smiling. Women, it seemed, loved handsome men at any age.
Hua Manting tugged his sleeve.
"Hmm?" he asked, bending slightly to listen.
She returned one wing to his plate. "Hard work."
"I've plenty of breast meat; eat the wings yourself," he said, attempting to return it.
"They're dry and flavorless," she replied, blocking him with her chopsticks.
"Stop pushing back and forth; people might think we never get chicken wings all year," she said, returning them to the plate.
"Your ladyship's generosity," Xie Ziyin teased, grinning.
"Who calls you that?" she retorted, rolling her eyes.
After the meal, dessert arrived: glutinous rice balls. Each bowl contained three, considering everyone's near fullness and prior fright. Hua Manting stared at hers, unable to eat more.
The boy shyly offered his bowl. "Sister, do you not have enough?"
She smiled, pushing it back. "You eat. I'm full."
"Don't you like sweets?" he asked, astonished.
"Indifferent," she said. "Eat if you wish, skip if you wish. Neither love nor hate."
He stared, astonished. Clearly, girls were supposed to love sweets.
Hua Manting glanced at him twice, then pushed the bowl across. "I heard you like sweet things. Here—take them. I'm too full."
Xie Ziyin aligned it with his own bowl. "My lady knows my tastes," he teased.
Hua Manting laughed, exasperated. "Shameless."
Xie Ziyin restrained further teasing, eating quietly.
The rice balls were sweet, and Hua Manting, though annoyed, could not help a fleeting smile. She realized, against expectation, that she hadn't retorted earlier—strange, considering Xie Ziyin had been incessant in provoking her since his arrival months ago.
Something about this felt… unusual.