Regicide

On stage, the shepherdess had finally reached the royal court. After a confrontation with the actress playing the noblewoman, the two engaged in a formal duel before the throne. At this stage, the theater's security personnel and the private guards inside the boxes were on high alert, nerves stretched taut. A battle between two third limit fighters, even when confined to an opera stage with prior safeguards in place, was not something anyone could take lightly. If nothing else, both wore full armor; any stray projectile or debris thrown off in the heat of combat could injure the patrons in the boxes. The audience here consisted entirely of dignitaries and elites—an injury to even one of them would be a grave incident. Down on the stage, the shepherdess and the noblewoman clashed fiercely. Even setting aside the projected illusion of crumbling walls, the sheer clatter of spears and the metallic thunder of crashing armor conveyed the terrifying force behind every blow. The audience could clearly sense that these two were truly locked in a life-or-death struggle. By now, the theater's boundary credentials had adjusted the perceived pace of the duel for the spectators, allowing them to follow the entire process clearly. Battles between third limit fighters were normally beyond the sight of ordinary people; this fight alone was worth the price of admission. Yet every third limit fighter responsible for security in the hall kept their eyes glued to every move below, dreading the slightest mishap. In lockstep with the action, the melody swelled into an intense, soaring crescendo. Under these circumstances, the dramatic impact was pushed to its absolute peak. Chen Chuan still could not understand the lyrics, but as the sky-shaking music grew ever more grandiose, he had the distinct feeling that the melody was driving a specific emotion toward a climax. Meanwhile, the movements of the shepherdess—or rather, the suit of armor—grew faster and fiercer. The intensity of their duel left onlookers breathless. After about three minutes of trading blows, the spear in her hands punched straight into the noblewoman's chest. Shock registered on the noblewoman's face as she sank to her knees on the stage. At that exact instant, the music came to a sudden, dead halt. Chen Chuan could sense that the actress playing the noblewoman was expressing genuine emotion, not merely acting. Yet the audience, completely immersed in the drama, failed to notice anything amiss. He rose from his seat. Around the same time, many excited spectators caught up in the story also stood up and applauded, clearly thrilled by the dramatic turn of events. On stage, the shepherdess drew the rusted sword and pointed it toward the sky. Then, the powerful, stirring music surged forth once more, rolling endlessly like a tempestuous tide. Rounds of even more enthusiastic applause broke out from the stalls, but this was not yet the end. The final act remained. The true ending of the original legend had been lost to time because the site had been reduced to ruins. In the version circulating in the Western Lands, the shepherdess cleared the knight's name, and the king conferred noble titles upon both of them on the spot, making them his vassals; the shepherdess then found a cure for the knight's affliction, and the curtain fell as they walked forward hand in hand. In the Eastern Continent, however, a very different version had long endured—the Battle of Regicide! The king had dispatched his royal swordsmen to recruit the exhausted shepherdess, but she flatly refused. The king had to pay the price! Casting aside her broken lance, the shepherdess drew her rusted sword and slaughtered both the royal swordsmen and the king! And now, upon this stage, she raised her sword beneath the brilliant lights toward the sky, then brought it slowly down until it pointed straight ahead—a blade leveled against royal sovereignty. The musical movement reached its ultimate peak, its rhythm swelling grandly like surging breakers and torrential rain. Chen Chuan looked where the sword was aimed. Whether by coincidence or design, it pointed directly at Speaker Quan's box. He glanced back at Chen Bitong, only to find the older man looking back at him as well. Understanding struck him all at once: Chen Bitong had already spotted the problem—or had known about it all along—and had deliberately kept him here so that the opportunity to save Speaker Quan would fall to him. It was likely payback for Chen Chuan's earlier guidance of Xiao Jin, and Chen Bitong knew Chen Chuan possessed more than enough strength to handle the situation. Still, such a move might carry political implications; stepping forward to save Speaker Quan would easily invite speculation about where his loyalties lay. But as someone on an official mission, Chen Chuan had no reason to shy away from public action. He turned his gaze back to the suit of armor. Driven by the music and the resonance of the crowd's fervor, he could sense fierce field fluctuations surging higher and higher. As the symphony reached its climax, the shepherdess suddenly sprang from the stage, leaping violently toward Speaker Quan's box with the rusted sword thrust straight ahead. Chen Chuan instantly deduced that, fueled by the slaying of the noblewoman and empowered by the Divine Song, this strike had reached an absolute pinnacle, far surpassing what it should normally be capable of. A head-on block would be exceedingly difficult. Chen Bitong had probably anticipated this and planned to intervene should Chen Chuan make any slip. You might be stronger in pure martial prowess, Chen Chuan thought, but this isn't just about raw force—at its root, this is an anomaly. In that case, just watch from the sidelines. With eyes locked ahead and mind in razor focus, Chen Chuan dropped his stance slightly. With a booming thud, he stepped out of the box, drawing the Xuejun Saber from its scabbard in the same motion. The two silhouettes flew toward each other high above the auditorium. At the very instant before they collided, Chen Chuan abruptly spun mid-air, thrusting the Xuejun Saber straight through the slit of the helmet. Simultaneously, a strong blur of incorporeality rippled across his Second Self, yet his expression remained completely steady. The hidden consciousness within the saber stirred to life, seeming to siphon something away from the target. Paying it no mind, he wrenched the blade upward with a sharp flick. The helmet was flung high into the air, looking for all the world as though severed by a single slash. Platinum-blonde hair billowed out, and a fleeting look of bewilderment appeared in the eyes of the actress playing the shepherdess. Chen Chuan brushed past her and landed solidly on both feet right beneath the stage lights. With a gentle flick of his saber, the air whistled. Deprived of her momentum, the actress fell from mid-air and hit the floor with a thud, dropping onto one knee. A moment later, the helmet clattered onto the aisle behind her. The audience looked on in astonishment. Everything had happened too quickly; they couldn't tell whether this was an impromptu addition to the play or an actual crisis. The security personnel in the private boxes reacted swiftly, rushing to the front to shield their employers with their bodies while glaring grimly down at the stage. Tan Zhi and the other two could only stare dumbfounded. When Chen Chuan had told them to wait outside earlier, they hadn't thought much of it, assuming he had run into a superior or a friend. They never imagined that in the blink of an eye, he would be squaring off against the actress playing the shepherdess. Chen Chuan glanced at the helmet on the floor. His judgment had been spot-on: the armor had exerted control over the actress's consciousness, and she might still believe she was immersed in the performance. However, this also meant the anomaly required a host, without which its power could not manifest. That made things simple. He raised his blade, hilt pointed forward and spine resting across his shoulder, lowering his center of gravity. With a step, he vanished in a flash. For a fraction of a second, the frequency modulation on the field signal seemed to blur, unable to fully render his movement. In an instant, he appeared right before the "shepherdess" and brought his blade down. The rusted sword rose accurately to parry, but with a sharp clang, it was sheared clean in two. The blade's momentum carried through unabated, coming to rest squarely against the actress's forehead. Yet where the edge met skin, not a single scratch appeared. The jin, applied with effortless precision, seeped inside and froze her in place, while he held the follow-through pose of his two-handed strike. The "shepherdess" froze for a second. Suddenly, the worn armor upon her cracked and fell away piece by piece to the ground. Her grip slackened, the broken half of the rusted sword clattered down, and she slumped limp onto the floor. Only then did Chen Chuan slowly sheath his blade and straighten up. The armor required a host; deprived of a body to inhabit, it became entirely inert. More importantly, he had defeated the shepherdess in direct combat. Drawing on his experience dispelling urban legend anomalies, he knew this was the decisive factor. Defeating her meant the play had reached its conclusion; its ending had been rewritten. He looked up. Seeing that the danger had passed, the security above stepped aside. Speaker Quan stepped forward and looked down, while Chen Bitong appeared at the other side, giving Chen Chuan a nod. Speaker Quan seemed to have anticipated something like this. Speaking into his boundary credential, he said, "Assistant Bao, handle this." Bao Yun, assistant to the director of the Security Defense Office, immediately stepped forward and addressed the audience below: "As many of you know, the Divine Song possesses unique properties that can sometimes exert an influence over performers. The organizers had notified us of this beforehand. "After careful consideration, we felt it would be wrong to let fear prevent everyone from experiencing such a magnificent production, so comprehensive precautions were put in place. We arranged ample security measures ahead of time. This gentleman here... Captain Chen, has rendered distinguished service in the field on numerous occasions. With him present, everyone can rest assured. "My only personal regret is that we could not witness the story proceed smoothly to its scripted conclusion." "No, there is no regret," Speaker Quan called down. "That thrust from the Shepherdess carried the true spirit of regicide. It was the most thrilling performance I have ever seen." Turning to Chen Chuan, he continued, "And Captain Chen, thank you for stepping in and showing restraint, sparing the performer from serious harm and preventing any tragedy. On her behalf, I thank you." With that, he lightly clapped his hands. The dignitaries in the boxes immediately followed suit, prompting the entire hall to join in until thunderous applause rolled through the theater like a rising tide. Medical personnel rushed in and carried the unconscious actress away on a stretcher. Chen Chuan looked up at Speaker Quan and Chen Bitong, then glanced around at the clapping patrons in the boxes and the hall. Calmly withdrawing his gaze, he held the Xuejun Saber and walked slowly down the central aisle amid the rolling applause. Before long, he reached the upper level and returned to the box. Chen Bitong handed him the Xuejun Saber's scabbard. Chen Chuan took it. "Thank you, Teacher Chen." Chen Bitong said, "After this rest day, I will be stationed permanently at the training class. Captain Chen, if you have time, you are welcome to visit me." Chen Chuan nodded. "I will." He paused, then looked at Chen Bitong. "Teacher Chen, regarding this play... may I know the real reason behind what happened?" Chen Bitong fell silent for a brief moment, then replied, "You may."