Chapter 36: The Wager
Long Ziyun had agreed to Lei Bao's proposal almost without a second thought, cleanly and decisively pledging himself to the Church of the Water God. This decision struck like a boulder hurled into a placid lake, sending ripples surging through the hearts of both Feng Chuixue and Yan Luo—ripples that would not soon settle.
Feng Chuixue's slender fingers traced unconsciously along the rim of his celadon teacup, his gaze deep and dark as still water. Among the three city lords, he was renowned for deliberating exhaustively before making any move. At this moment, a fierce battle raged within him. The contract, truth be told, held virtually no binding force over powerhouses at the Soul Emperor level like themselves—in the eyes of the strong, it was, after all, merely a piece of paper.
But therein lay the rub. The man who had forged this covenant with them, Lei Bao, was himself a Soul Emperor, and one with deep, sprawling connections. Should the label of "oathbreaker" be fastened upon them, and should Lei Bao then work his networks to ensure such word reached the Emperor's ears... this seat of city lord would be difficult indeed to keep.
For while Soul Emperors were not exactly commonplace, neither were they so rare as to be irreplaceable. Swapping out a city lord was no great challenge for the imperial house. Besides, the Emperor, though no tyrant, cared considerably for his reputation among the people and held a particular loathing for any subject who betrayed good faith. What's more, they were not Titled Douluo—not the kind of indispensable powerhouses whose whims even the throne must indulge.
At this thought, Feng Chuixue couldn't help the faint furrow that creased his brow. His gaze drifted unconsciously toward Long Ziyun, and he saw that this ever-astute city lord was savoring his tea with untroubled leisure, as if the monumental decision he'd just made had been nothing more than agreeing to a casual dinner invitation. This abnormal composure only deepened the misgivings in Feng Chuixue's heart.
At the same time, Yan Luo's rough, heavy brows were knotted tight, the knotted muscles across his frame tensed faintly in the grip of deep thought. He had never been one for these twisting, turning schemes, and his hurried departure for this meeting had left him without his trusted military advisor—a fact that made him feel even more acutely out of his depth. His fingers drummed unconsciously against the tabletop, a dull, rhythmic thudding.
Yet Long Ziyun—a man who had never once come out on the losing end of any bargain—had agreed with such alacrity. Paired with his own burning curiosity about this mysterious sect that could supposedly heal severed limbs... in the end, it tipped the scales. Yan Luo's hand drifted absently to an old scar tracing down his left forearm—a memento from a bitter battle many years past, one that still throbbed with a dull ache whenever he fought. If there truly was a way to be healed of it...
"I'm in!" Yan Luo's booming voice shattered the silence like a thunderclap. His great, palm-leaf-sized hand thumped heavily against his chest with a muffled boom. "This old Yan ain't afraid of no ghosts. What Long Ziyun can do, I can match step for step. But I'll say this upfront—" His tiger-like eyes widened, fixing squarely on Lei Bao. "My cut—not a single coin less!"
This was a colossal wager, his entire fortune staked on the table. One slip, and the whole game was lost. As his words fell, Yan Luo could feel his heart pounding like a war drum. But if he won this gamble—if the Church of the Water God truly could deliver the abundant returns Lei Bao had promised—the vista ahead was enough to set the blood racing. He could already see the vision of his city growing ever mightier under his leadership.
A delighted smile bloomed across Lei Bao's face. "Rest assured, rest assured! Lord Yan need not have the slightest worry." He turned toward Feng Chuixue, who was still sunk in deliberation, and his tone took on a note of precisely measured deference. "And what of Lord Feng? What do you say?"
Feng Chuixue gently shook his head, his fingertip tracing an elegant arc along the lip of his teacup. He had his own calculations. A sect still so obscure, with no name to speak of—he could simply dispatch trusted agents to infiltrate it in secret, thoroughly grasp its true depths, then ally with other city lords or nobles to extract whatever he desired. Why must he necessarily bow his head beneath another's roof, subject to another's will? Over the years, he had painstakingly cultivated a hidden network of spies and informants. There was no need to take such a risk now.
This reaction fell entirely within Lei Bao's expectations. He knew all too well how meticulous Feng Chuixue's mind was—this was a man who never made a move until he was absolutely certain. A flicker of understanding passed through Lei Bao's eyes, followed by something deeper, more calculating.
Lei Bao let out a soft sigh, and a note of almost sincere regret crept into his voice. "It seems, then, that Lei Bao must change his approach in negotiating with Lord Feng."
Feng Chuixue's guard snapped up instantly. The aura around him sharpened to a razor's edge, and the tea in his cup shivered with fine, dense ripples, though no hand touched it. "Lei Bao, what is the meaning of this? Do you intend to use force?" Though he'd come without his retinue, he and Lei Bao were both Soul Emperors. And he himself was a control-type Soul Emperor, notorious for being erratic and slippery to pin down. Even if he couldn't win, escaping should pose no great difficulty. He was already poised to summon his martial soul at the first sign of trouble.
"A misunderstanding," Lei Bao waved his hands hastily, an earnest smile on his face. "Would Lei Bao ever be so unreasonable? What I meant is—let us have a fair match, with Lord Long and Lord Yan as witnesses."
He paused, waiting until he sensed the edge in Feng Chuixue's aura ease a fraction, before continuing. "I am willing to stake a Soul Ascension Pill and my personal fifth-tier flight-type soul tool as the wager." At these words, even Long Ziyun, who had been content to watch from the sidelines until now, couldn't help raising an eyebrow.
"If, within the burning of a single incense stick, I fail to defeat you," Lei Bao's voice was clear and measured, "these two items shall be yours, in full. But if you are defeated—then you must sign the covenant, join the Church of the Water God, and fulfill the same obligations as Lord Long and the others. And you shall harbor no divided heart—particularly no treachery, betrayal of the church's secrets, or any such conduct."
Lei Bao's gaze abruptly sharpened to a blade's gleam, and his voice dropped low, each word now carrying the weighty pressure unique to a Soul Emperor. "Should you renege—flee to the farthest corners of the world, and I, Lei Bao, shall hunt you to the very ends of it!"
Feng Chuixue studied the imposing figure before him, his mind racing. He knew that if he refused, this day would not end peaceably. What's more, the terms Lei Bao had offered were genuinely tempting. The Soul Ascension Pill could advance his soul power and help him break through to Soul Sage. And Lei Bao's fifth-tier flight-type soul tool—that was a treasure beyond price, a masterpiece of the Sun Moon Empire's craft. It was said that when pushed to full speed, it could match the velocity of a same-tier flight-type Soul Emperor.
As a control-type Soul Emperor, he might not excel in direct, head-on assault, but with his elusive and unpredictable control techniques, lasting a single incense stick's time was hardly a challenge—two sticks' worth was not out of the question. His mind was already spinning through possible tactics...
Weighing the odds in his mind, Feng Chuixue found his chances more than favorable. A confident, unhurried smile graced his lips, and his entire bearing seemed to say: The advantage is mine. "Fine. I accept." He rose with refined elegance, his robes swaying softly. "I only hope, when the time comes, that Lord Lei is not too pained to part with these treasures of his."
The corner of Lei Bao's mouth lifted, a glint of triumphant cunning flashing through his eyes. "Hah. I rather think it will be you who finds the sting unbearable when the time comes."
"Please, follow me to the rear courtyard's training grounds." Lei Bao rose, gesturing toward the hall's exit.
"After you." Feng Chuixue adjusted his robes and answered with unhurried grace, his stride carrying its own air of refined ease.
Long Ziyun and Yan Luo exchanged a glance. In each other's eyes, they both saw the same unmistakable look of anticipation. A duel between Soul Emperors—this would be no commonplace affair.
Outside the hall, the setting sun hung perfectly in the sky, stretching the silhouettes of the four men long and lean. In the distance came the faint sound of the Lei Manor's patrolling guards, their rhythmic footfalls adding a layer of somber gravity to the atmosphere. Feng Chuixue lifted his head to study the colors of the sky, and the corner of his lips curved into a faint, elusive smile. This wager—he was determined to win it.