The fifth night brought the sea breeze into the city.
The wind wasn't strong, yet it carried a heavy, briny scent of tide that caused every torch in the city to flicker inward simultaneously. This wasn't a natural wind direction; it was the entire ocean slowly shifting its breath.
The common folk of Chentang Pass began to feel the unease.
The marketplaces, which had remained relatively stable during the day, packed up rapidly as dusk fell. Windows slammed shut one by one, and the rhythmic sound of heavy bolts sliding into place echoed through the streets. Children were forbidden from leaving their homes, and even their cries were muffled—as if crying too loudly might summon something from the deep.
Red and Snow stood atop an inn's roof, overlooking the entire city.
"The water hasn't come yet," Snow said quietly.
"But the tide is already rising in people's hearts," Red replied.
They both felt it—the pressure didn't stem from the Dragon's might itself, but from the waiting. It was like standing on the edge of a cliff; though the ground beneath hadn't crumbled yet, one couldn't help but imagine the sensation of falling.
The Chan Sect cultivators remained in the city.
There were no more and no fewer than before—the same few auras—yet they were more concealed than the night before. Had Red not already formed his Golden Core, he might have been fooled by that aura of "deliberate inaction."
They were waiting.
Waiting for Nezha to move first, for the Dragon Race to lose their temper first, for the Great Shang to fall into chaos first. As long as someone crossed the line, the situation would naturally slide toward the worst possible outcome.
"This doesn't look like a rescue," Snow frowned. "It looks more like they're baiting someone into making a mistake."
Red didn't respond immediately.
His gaze was fixed on the Li Estate. That lamp was still burning, but it was dimmer than the previous night, as if someone had intentionally shielded half its light. More soldiers had gathered outside the gates, though they weren't surrounding the house—they were guarding it.
Li Jing was gambling.
He was betting that the Dragon King wouldn't flood the city immediately, betting that the Chan Sect wouldn't openly abandon the city, and betting that the "Mandate of the Human King" of the Shang could still suppress it all.
But in a gamble, the first thing placed on the table is rarely the gambler themselves.
It is the child.
At midnight, a low, muffled thud echoed from the sea.
It wasn't thunder, nor was it a wave. It sounded more like a colossal creature rolling over in the distant depths.
The city's defensive formations lit up all at once, only to extinguish a breath later. They hadn't failed; rather, they had been "looked at" by something.
A chill ran down Snow's spine.
"The Dragon King is testing the city," she said.
Not an attack, but a probe. He was confirming whether this city was truly worth the effort of his full intervention.
At that moment, a figure appeared silently at the other end of the roof.
No footsteps. No fluctuations of spiritual power. It was as if he had been standing there all along.
Nezha.
He sat down cross-legged, his feet dangling over the edge of the eaves. He swung them back and forth, looking like a child who couldn't be more ordinary.
"You aren't from Zhaoge," he spoke suddenly.
Red's heart tightened, but he didn't deny it.
"You aren't from the Chan Sect either." Nezha turned to look at them, his eyes clear and bright. "When the Chan Sect people look at me, there is calculation in their eyes."
Snow remained silent for a moment before asking softly, "Are you afraid?"
Nezha thought about it.
"I'm afraid of the seawater coming into the city," he said. "I'm not afraid of them."
He didn't name who "them" referred to. But all three understood perfectly.
"What if the water really comes?" Red asked.
Nezha looked down at his bare feet.
"Then I'll carry it myself," he said. "This city is what my father guards; these people are the ones my mother saves. If the water wants to drown someone, let it drown me first."
He spoke lightly, yet the words sank like a stone into Red's heart.
In that moment, Red suddenly understood why Di Xin had sent them here. It wasn't to see dragons, and it wasn't to see gods. It was to see how a child stood between God and Man.
In the distance, the eerie blue light rose again. This time, it wasn't just a probe.
Snow slowly stood up. The Frost-Shadow Moon Wheel vibrated gently in her sleeve; it hadn't been unsheathed, yet it was already responding to the momentum of the world.
Red clenched his fists. The fire-crows of the Star-Burning Tower stirred restlessly deep within his dantian, as if waiting for permission.
Originally, they were just observers. But now, they both knew.
One step further, and it would no longer be about watching. It would be about choosing.
The night pressed down on the city, and the sound of the waves drew closer. For Chentang Pass, there was no longer a path of retreat.