"Hmph." The voice came from the shadows first, then Jing Yuan himself materialized, his imposing frame stepping into the dim light. Every line of his posture suggested he had been waiting here for a long time, patience woven into his very stance.
"Yu Xian nearly died," Jing Yuan stated, his voice low and deliberate. "Yet when he awoke, he could provide no information about his attacker. Even Fu Xuan and the Divination Commission's grand matrix failed to uncover a single clue." His gaze sharpened, pinning the intruder. "Did you truly believe I would ignore such an anomaly?"
With a subtle turn of his wrist, the gleaming edge of his glaive pressed another half-centimeter against the intruder's throat. The silent threat was clearer than any shout.
"My initial plan was to observe from the Seat of Divine Foresight," Jing Yuan continued, his tone cool and analytical. "But I reconsidered. Letting this fester would be like ignoring a spark in a powder keg. Who knows what greater catastrophe it might ignite?"
He leaned forward slightly, the weight of his authority pressing down not just physically but metaphysically. "A threat that can evade the Master Diviner's sight, that moves through my Luofu like a ghost, harming at will... Such a danger cannot be left unchecked."
If even Fu Xuan's sight is blinded, the thought crystallized in Jing Yuan's mind with chilling clarity, then the perpetrator must possess power on a level that defies ordinary comprehension. An Emanator.
He didn't speak the conclusion aloud, but it settled in his gut, cold and certain. An Emanator, operating in the shadows, disrupting the Xianzhou's order. Who else could hope to confront such a being but another of similar stature?
"Therefore," Jing Yuan's voice cut through the silence, "I laid an ambush. I waited to see if the hunter, finding their prey still alive, would grow bold enough to return and finish the job." His eyes narrowed to slits. "I did not expect... to catch you. The audacity to infiltrate this place."
The full force of his presence—the concentrated pressure of a General who was also an Emanator—slammed into the intruder, a tangible force that nearly drove the man to his knees.
"Speak, uninvited guest," Jing Yuan commanded, his voice dangerously soft. "What is your purpose here?"
Ssszzz...
The sound was faint, almost subliminal. It wasn't a single noise, but a multitude of tiny, crystalline vibrations, like a field of frost forming in an instant.
Jing Yuan's pupils contracted violently.
The sensation—the very texture of the energy—plucked a chord deep in his memory. It was an echo from a distant past, from the days of the High-Cloud Quintet. It was the sound of his master, Jingliu, weaving the very air into blades of solid ice.
Could it be—?!
His breath hitched, a old wound throbbing in his soul. But the illusion shattered as quickly as it formed.
"Truly, age addles the mind," he muttered under his breath, a wry, private admission. "To see a trick with ice and immediately think of her." His focus returned, sharp and critical. "This man... and my master... are nothing alike."
The figure before him was unmistakably male—broad-shouldered and muscular, clearly a short-life species. His blue hair was styled with flamboyant care, his clothing loud and attention-grabbing. A roguish, almost sleazy smirk played on his lips, and his eyes held a glint that was part amusement, part calculation. The twin daggers in his hands were held with a casual familiarity that spoke of long practice.
Even as Jing Yuan assessed him, the intruder seemed to shake off the residual pressure of the Emanator's aura. He reached up, flicking a stray strand of blue hair with affected nonchalance, and offered a wide, ingratiating smile.
"Aiyo, my lord! This is all a huge misunderstanding! A classic case of mistaken identity!" He rubbed his hands together, his eyes darting around the room in a pantomime of nervousness. But Jing Yuan wasn't fooled. The performance was too perfect, the cowardice too theatrical.
Is this all just a game to him? A role he's playing on a whim?
"My name is Sampo," the man announced with a flourish. "Just a humble servant of Aha, a simple Masked Fool. The folks back at the tavern call me 'Old Sampo.' Some acquaintances from my travels call me 'Uncle Frosty Legs'—a nickname, pay it no mind! But you, my lord, you can just call me Sampo. Or 'Little Sampo'! I answer to anything!"
His strength was an enigma, but the ease with which he'd shaken off Jing Yuan's spiritual pressure was telling. Powerful. Possibly Emanator-level.
A Masked Fool. The name explained the theatrics, but not the intent.
Jing Yuan let out a derisive snort. The glaive in his hand lifted, then its butt-end tapped gently on the floor. It was not a gesture of trust, but a calculated pause. Engaging an Emanator of unknown abilities here, in the heart of the Luofu, surrounded by civilians and vital infrastructure... the collateral damage would be unthinkable. The very foundations of the starship could be shaken.
A direct confrontation is too risky. Better to listen, for now.
Sampo, perceptive as ever, seized the opportunity. His demeanor shifted from faux-nervousness to conspiratorial charm.
"Aiyo, let little Sampo clear this up! The man in that bed and I—we're like this!" He crossed two fingers tightly. "Good brothers! Thick as thieves!"
He leaned in, his voice dropping to a confidential whisper. "Yu Xian? Know him like the back of my hand! When I heard the poor guy had a brush with the great beyond, I dropped everything! Left a very lucrative deal half-finished, I'll have you know. Rushed right over to check on my dear friend."
His eyes then lit up with exaggerated glee. "But imagine my surprise! When I get here, I find not one, but two absolutely stunning young ladies keeping a vigil at his bedside! Each more beautiful than the last!"
He began to gesticulate wildly, painting a picture in the air. "Now, I ask you, at a moment like that, what kind of friend would I be to barge in and ruin the atmosphere? So, I did the gentlemanly thing! I took a stroll, admired the stars, waited for the... private consultations... to conclude and the young ladies to depart. Only then did I dare to sneak in. A man's recovery needs... positive morale, you understand?"
He waggled his eyebrows. "Truly, my friend Yu Xian is a man of hidden talents! I can only wonder what the future holds for his... social calendar—"
"Enough," Jing Yuan cut him off, his voice flat and devoid of amusement. "Spare me the theatrics, Masked Fool. His private life is not your punchline."
"You claim closeness," Jing Yuan pressed, his eyes boring into Sampo's. "Yet you show little genuine concern. The man nearly died."
"Hahaha!" Sampo's laugh was a bright, ringing sound that seemed out of place in the tense room. "That's because little Sampo happens to know the real story behind his 'accident'! He's playing a game, you see! A divine game, for the highest of stakes—a wish! And for a chance like that, of course one must offer a suitable price in return! It's only fair!"
A knowing smile spread across Sampo's face. "I have faith in him. I believe he can succeed..."
He paused, and for a fleeting moment, the manic energy faded, replaced by something quieter, almost genuine. "And I also believe... he's not the type to die halfway through."
Silence descended. Sampo's chatter ceased, leaving only the hum of the medical equipment. Across from him, Jing Yuan's brow furrowed deeply. The explanation had not provided clarity; it had shattered the simple mystery of an attack into a thousand glittering, incomprehensible shards.
No assailant? A game of the gods? A wish? A price?
Jing Yuan's mind, honed by centuries of strategy and statecraft, raced to connect these fragments into a coherent picture. The effort was immense, the concepts slippery and alien. He felt a strange, leaden fatigue seeping into his bones, a drowsiness that felt... unnatural.
!!!
"Hahaha! Feeling it now, General?" Sampo's voice burst through the growing fog, bright with delight. He laughed uproariously, as if watching the most entertaining show in the universe. "The game of the gods... isn't just for one player. Bear witness..."
"Old Sampo really must be going now..." he said, his voice beginning to sound distant, as if heard through water. "If I stay too long... I might just doze off right here..."
His form seemed to waver at the edges. "...Hope you enjoy the game."
The words were fading echoes. The room blurred at the corners of Jing Yuan's vision. With a monumental effort, he tried to lift his arm, to command his glaive, to stop the retreating fool. But his limbs were heavy as stone. Sampo sidestepped the sluggish movement with effortless grace and melted back into the shadows from whence he came.
Jing Yuan fought against the tide, but it was useless. The drowsiness was a tangible force, seeping into the cracks of his will. Even the formidable mental fortitude of an Emanator could not hold against this strangely sourced enchantment. His thoughts dissolved into formless mist, his awareness sinking into a deep, dark sea.
Standing upright, glaive still in hand, General Jing Yuan succumbed to the void and fell into a profound and unnatural slumber.
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A/n: Hey over on my patreon there are currently two for the time being exclusive books which are
Zenless Zone Zero: Loving Daily Life Starting in New Eridu
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