Chapter Two: The Governor

Tower.

Within the golden hall on the first floor, the solemn ceremony was drawing to a close.

“In the name of God, may your soul find rest. Amen.”

Standing at the center of the crowd upon a high platform, the Governor had just finished reciting the prayer. He placed his palm upon the forehead of a boy, eight or nine years old.

“Amen,” the crowd responded in a single voice, crossing themselves before bowing their heads in prayer, offering thanks for the Lord’s grace.

Not a sound could be heard in the silent hall, not even the fall of a pin.

On the platform, the boy shrank back from the scene, a little fearful. He tugged secretly at the Governor’s sleeve and pleaded softly, “Papa, when will it end? I haven’t finished my bear-shaped cookies yet.”

The Governor patted his head kindly. “Be patient, my child. It will be over soon.”

“Dong, dong, dong—”

Just as he soothed the boy, a series of solemn chimes rang out from the tower above.

Hearing the bells, everyone in the hall instinctively looked up, their eyes fixed upon the Governor standing on high.

The Governor gently pried the boy’s little hand from his sleeve and strode to the very center of the platform.

“Now then…”

A wild light blazed in the Governor’s eyes, his expression turning feverish. “Let us prepare to receive the Lord’s blessing!”

“Hurrah!”

The crowd could no longer restrain themselves, bursting into cheers and shouts. This was always their favorite part.

Amid the clamor, a man appeared, his face hidden behind a black mask, dragging a great bloodstained cleaver as he slowly approached the platform.

“Papa! Isn’t it over yet?”

Seeing the brutal figure, the boy was seized by terror. He did not stay obediently in place as promised, but instead ran to the Governor and clung tightly to his leg.

Confronted with the boy, the Governor immediately turned gentle, cupping his cheeks and saying, “What silly things you say, my child—it is only just beginning!”

By now, the masked man had reached the platform. He seized the pleading boy and hurled him violently to the ground.

“Papa! It hurts! You said I could have a treat after the prayers! Why isn’t it over?”

The boy burst into tears as he hit the floor, gazing in despair at the Governor’s retreating figure, but receiving no protection.

A second heavy blow followed—the boy’s lips were smeared with fresh blood; he no longer had the strength to cry out.

“Mother…” he whispered faintly, his eyes seeking the crowd below.

Among the throng, a woman clad in pure white wept behind her hands—a stark contrast to the raucous mob around her.

Very soon, the boy lost consciousness entirely, and the exultant mob fell silent once more.

The Governor strode across a pool of thick blood, spreading his arms wide to the people. “And now, at last, partake in the Lord’s—”

“Wait!”

Suddenly, a voice rang out from the back of the hall, cutting short the Governor’s fervent speech.

All heads turned to see a rugged, unshaven man collapsed in the doorway, gasping for breath.

It was the Captain, just arrived. He glanced in agony at the blood-soaked remains, then stared wide-eyed at the Governor and shouted,

“He’s here! He’s come back!”

Half an hour earlier, the Governor had been informed by his guards of a refugee uprising, but he’d paid it no mind. The Governor’s residence was well-fortified—how could a band of starving wretches pose any threat?

To the Governor, keeping his residence secure was tantamount to securing the world itself. As for the refugees outside? They were as insignificant as ants.

But the “him” the Captain spoke of made the Governor’s mind freeze, his pupils constricting in terror.

“Impossible! He’s been dead for seven years—impossible!”

Within seconds, the Governor’s composure shattered, and he erupted in a fit of hysterical rage.

The Captain scanned the crowd, finally spotting the woman in white. His nerves relaxed a little. Forcing himself to stand tall, he strode toward the Governor. “We must do something! Or else—”

Before he could reach the platform, several swords were suddenly leveled at his throat.

“Are you rebelling?” he roared, seeing that the blades were wielded by his own guards.

But his fury was short-lived, for in a matter of heartbeats, he was surrounded by dozens of soldiers, every blade aimed at a vital point.

The Captain looked between the Governor on the platform and the murderous guards, and at last understood how the Governor had dared to murder the young lord.

He himself had long since been stripped of real power.

So it was— the Governor had always been cunning and ruthless; seven years ago, so it was, and so it remains.

His own fate, he thought, was nothing but retribution.

He accepted his end with a cold smile. “Don’t think you’ll fare any better. He’s right outside—wait—”

Before he could finish, a sword pierced his throat. Blood spurted forth in a scarlet arc as he fell, struggling vainly.

The crowd watched with indifference, as though it were merely a play.

Only the woman in white stole a secret glance at the Captain, her eyes flaring with a sudden, hidden heat.

He has returned…

When the commotion died down, a middle-aged guard kicked away the Captain’s corpse, stripped his sword, and slung it at his side. Then, with a salute, he addressed the Governor. “Corporal Liu Feng reporting for duty, at your service!”

The guards quickly formed ranks behind their new Captain and together proclaimed, “The entire guard stands ready for the Governor’s command!”

With his men assembled, the Governor regained his confidence. He raised his head arrogantly, surveying the hall from on high.

“Guards, follow me!”

The Governor deliberately raised his voice, issuing orders in the sharpest tone, attempting to mask the cowardice he had just displayed.

“Yes, sir!”

The guards’ reply echoed like thunder through the golden hall, as if the sheer volume might demonstrate their loyalty.

As the Governor moved to leave, the crowd’s gazes grew feverish. They licked their lips, fists clenched, ready to spring.

At the door, the Governor turned back to the hall. “The rest is up to you.”

A savage roar erupted, and the mob surged toward the two pools of blood and flesh, scrambling like fiends.

The Governor watched with satisfaction, then ordered the guards, “Seal the doors.”

With a groan, the doors swung shut. In that instant, the Governor glanced back and saw, through the narrowing crack, a pair of cold, sinister eyes glaring fiercely at him.

It was the woman in white. When their eyes met, she hurriedly looked away, unable to meet his gaze.

The Governor, pleased with her reaction, nodded and smirked with a touch of triumph.

“Sir! The refugees are gathering in ever greater numbers—they’ve surrounded the residence!” At that moment, a guard, fresh from the city walls, rushed to report.

The Governor’s expression turned grave. He ordered the new captain, Liu Feng, “Lower the main gate and bolt the doors.”

“But, if we do that, there’s no way out…” Liu Feng hesitated, knowing the main gate was the final defense. Once closed, it could not be opened again.

At the hint of doubt, a violent gleam flashed in the Governor’s eyes. After a pause, he exhaled, “I’ll allow you one mistake—do not make a second.”

“Yes, sir!”

A chill ran down Liu Feng’s spine. He hurried to obey, gathering men for the control room.

“You—take the crossbows from the armory to the walls.”

“Yes, sir!”

With Liu Feng’s example before them, no guard dared voice dissent. They scattered at once.

The Governor instinctively touched the revolver at his hip, muttering, “Let’s see how many lives you have left…”

…

Beneath the city walls, Xiang Jiuxi threw back the coat from his head. Through his tangled hair, a bullet scar could be seen on his brow.

Some of his memories were gone. He could only recall being rescued by an old man seven years ago, and that the old man had just died of hunger.

Gazing at the familiar Governor’s Mansion, the fragments of his memory began to knit themselves together once more…