The Feast

1,201 words

Chapter 772: The Feast

Dressed entirely in white, Bai Lingmiao was led by four eunuchs holding lanterns as she slowly walked toward the main hall ahead.

This was not the Siqi emperor’s palace, but his summer retreat. Even so, the scale of the place fully adhered to court protocol.

As she drew closer to the hall, pleasant music reached her ears.

The moment she stepped inside, she saw over a hundred people seated on both sides, laughing and raising their cups in cheerful celebration.

Among them were civil officials and military officers, as well as monks and Daoists—some of whom had especially unsettling appearances.

In the center of the hall, several delicately beautiful women with bound feet stood atop the palms of armored giants, dancing lightly to the music.

“Is this… a victory feast?” Bai Lingmiao was momentarily confused. Was this the urgent matter mentioned in the paper crane?

“Holy Maiden, this way, please.” Under the eunuch’s guidance, Bai Lingmiao was seated in a prime spot near the front.

Soon, plates of venison, bear paws, and things Bai Lingmiao had never even seen were placed before her.

Yet Bai Lingmiao barely registered the waste of food. Her gaze was fixed on the grotesque figure seated beside the dragon throne—a massive, strange man in a red Daoist robe.

It was Xuanpin. The supposedly dead Xuanpin had appeared before her once again.

Just as Bai Lingmiao was staring at Xuanpin, he clearly noticed her and gave a slight shake of his head.

A vague sense of familiarity stirred within her. Bai Lingmiao furrowed her brow and sat down silently, suspicion flickering in her eyes.

Turning her gaze to the main table facing the hall’s entrance, she saw several emperors seated on dragon thrones: the emperor of Daliang, the Khan of Qingqiu, and the emperors of Siqi and Later Shu.

Gao Zhijian was clearly the most honored, seated at the very center. The Khan of Qingqiu ranked second, while the emperors of Siqi and Later Shu—both rulers of recently reclaimed territories—sat at the far edges.

As Gao Zhijian’s hand lightly grasped his wine goblet, a eunuch beside him signaled to the attendants below. The dancers performing the palm dance quickly finished their routine and withdrew.

“Today,” Gao Zhijian’s deep voice rang out, and the hall fell silent at once.

“Today, the Emperor is greatly pleased. The kingdom of Siqi has been reclaimed from the state-ruining cult by our generals and soldiers!”

At these words, everyone’s faces broke into smiles. Clearly, this was news everyone welcomed.

After a pause, Gao Zhijian continued. Though Bai Lingmiao was not a learned woman, she could plainly tell his words carried little substance.

The gist was simple: the Fa Sect was on its last legs. Everyone was to keep pushing, annihilate them completely, and aim to return to court in triumph before the year’s end.

The dancers returned—this time not a palm dance but a drum dance. Their delicate white feet, accompanied by graceful, sinuous movements, tapped rhythmically on the large drums placed on round tables. The sight was mesmerizing.

Thinking of the White Lotus believers outside still eating the leftover scraps of the feast, and looking at the extravagant scene before her, Bai Lingmiao felt a tangled mix of emotions.

Accompanied by this mood, the victory feast gradually came to an end.

Once most of the crowd had dispersed, Bai Lingmiao walked toward the Siqi emperor. “Your Majesty, the war isn’t over yet. Isn’t this a bit too extravagant?”

“I told them to do it.” It was Gao Zhijian who spoke. Wearing the imperial crown, he appeared weary, as if the crown itself weighed a thousand jin.

“Bai shimei, I understand what you mean. But right now, we can’t skip this display. If we don’t do it, the men below will start to get uneasy. Compared to stabilizing morale, this expense is nothing.”

Bai Lingmiao looked at Gao Zhijian before her. He seemed different from the simple, honest giant she once knew.

Hearing his reasoning, Bai Lingmiao dropped the subject and turned her attention to a more pressing matter. “Xuanpin dashi? Didn’t you… die?”

At a light wave of Gao Zhijian’s hand, the imperial guards quickly encircled the entire hall, forming an impenetrable perimeter. The palace eunuchs formed a second line of defense. “Let’s talk inside.”

Soon, in the inner chamber, Bai Lingmiao saw Li Sui, covered in tentacles, emerge from within the voluminous Daoist robe. Then Li Huowang’s face appeared from the dark opening within.

The Xuanpin from earlier had been nothing more than an illusion propped up by Li Sui’s tentacles. The real Xuanpin was indeed dead.

Li Huowang was still wearing Xuanpin’s red Daoist robe, which was inscribed with strange script. It hung on him like an oversized bedsheet.

But quickly, the red robe visibly shrank, fitting Li Huowang’s frame perfectly.

Li Huowang walked over to Bai Lingmiao, silently gave her a brief embrace, and then let go.

“The fact that Xuanpin and the others are gone must not be leaked. It would shake the army’s morale.” As Gao Zhijian spoke, several people entered from outside.

Clearly, those allowed in now were mostly the core members of the allied forces, all of whom knew what had truly happened.

What had taken place outside was merely a formality. Now, the real discussion began.

Everyone took seats on chairs made of golden-thread nanmu. The attending eunuchs placed a cup of tea beside each person, then withdrew.

Compared to the festive atmosphere earlier, the mood in the inner chamber was noticeably oppressive. Thin white steam rose from the teacups; no one spoke first.

“Xuanpin is dead. Don’t try to hide anything from me. Just tell me the situation right now—how bad is it?” Li Huowang spoke first.

No matter how difficult the situation ahead, after all this time, he was already prepared for the worst.

Li Huowang finished speaking and waited for an answer. But for a long while, no one replied.

“What’s the matter? You think I’m too low in status to be worthy of an answer?”

After a glance at Gao Zhijian for permission, a Daliang Sitian Shaoshao spoke up. “The Fa Sect has completely retreated into the kingdom of Nanping. Our scouts have just been dispatched, so we don’t yet know the internal situation of the Fa Sect.”

“That’s it? That’s all you have? You’re not still planning to keep things from me at this point, are you?” Li Huowang’s expression turned hostile.

“Li zhenren, the Sitian Jian daren stated before his death that some things must not be told to you.”

“Don’t use Xuanping to pressure me! Just because he said something, I have to obey? If he was really that capable, then why is he dead?”

“Now that I’m fully involved in this, I refuse to be blind and deaf. Tell me the full situation. I’ll decide what to do next myself!”

Gao Zhijian raised his hands slightly, trying to calm Li Huowang’s rising anger. “Li shixiong, don’t be hasty. They’re not trying to hide things from you. Ask what you want to know—be specific. They’ll answer.”

“How did Xuanpin die? While I was fighting that Matuo, what exactly happened on their end?”

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Reading Guide Decoding

The Feast Behind the Feast: Lies, Thrones, and a Dead Man's Robe

Cultural / Xianxia Notes

The Victory Feast as Political Ritual: In traditional Chinese court culture, holding a qinggong yan (庆功宴 / victory feast) was never just about eating. It was a carefully staged display of power meant to project stability, reward loyal supporters, and suppress whispers of dissent. Gao Zhijian’s insistence on this lavish display—even while the war continues—is a classic move: a leader must control the narrative of victory to prevent the very real cracks in the coalition from widening. The wastefulness is the point; it signals that the court is so secure it can afford to be wasteful.

The Sitian Jian’s Secrecy: The Sitian Jian (司天监 / Supervisory Heavenly Office) operates like a paranoid intelligence agency in a world of gods and monsters. Their refusal to share information isn’t simple malice—it’s a doctrine of containment. They believe that certain truths (like the nature of the Siming, or the mechanisms of a curse) are themselves dangerous weapons. Knowing the wrong thing can expose a person to ontological contamination. Xuanpin’s dying order to keep Li Huowang in the dark is therefore a double-edged sword: it might protect him, but it also strips him of the ability to act as a free agent. This tension between protective ignorance and destructive knowledge is a core theme of the novel.

The Emperor’s Crown as a Burden: Gao Zhijian’s remark about the imperial crown weighing “a thousand jin” is a classic xianxia trope. The crown is not just heavy metal—it’s a metaphor for the crushing weight of responsibility, political calculation, and the loneliness of absolute power. The “simple, honest giant” Bai Lingmiao remembers is gone, replaced by a ruler for whom every public smile is a tactic and every private conversation a potential trap.

Chapter Overview

Okay, get ready for the kind of chapter where the real plot happens between the lines of a victory banquet. On the surface, everyone’s toasting—Siqi has been reclaimed, the Fa Sect is supposedly on the run, and the allied forces are celebrating. Bai Lingmiao, our ever-watchful Holy Maiden, walks into a scene of ostentatious luxury that makes her stomach turn, especially knowing her White Lotus followers are eating scraps outside. But here’s the kicker: the real meeting doesn’t start until the party’s over. Behind the closed doors of the inner chamber, the masks come off. The dead isn’t dead, the truth is being rationed like a scarce resource, and Li Huowang—fresh from his showdown with Matuo—is about to find out that the war he’s been fighting has a whole secret ledger he hasn’t been allowed to see. The feast is a lie; the silence is the truth.

Key Plot Points

The Masquerade: Bai Lingmiao spots Xuanpin alive at the feast. But when the inner circle convenes, we learn it was a brilliant deception: Li Sui’s tentacles were puppeteering Xuanpin’s empty robe. The real Xuanpin is dead, and the allied leadership is desperate to hide this fact from the troops to avoid a morale collapse.
The Power Dynamics at the Table: The seating arrangement is a subtle map of political reality. Gao Zhijian (Daliang) sits at the center, the Khan of Qingqiu ranks second, and the Siqi and Later Shu emperors—nominal rulers of reclaimed lands—are relegated to the margins. The feast itself is a calculated display of strength, not genuine celebration.
The Information Blackout: When Li Huowang demands a full briefing on the Fa Sect’s status, he’s met with silence. The Sitian Jian agent only reveals that the enemy has retreated to Nanping before clamming up, citing Xuanpin’s dying orders to keep certain information from him. This is a direct challenge to Li Huowang’s agency.
Li Huowang’s Ultimatum: Furious at being treated like a child, Li Huowang forces the issue. He rejects the authority of a dead man’s orders and demands to know the full truth about Xuanpin’s death and the events that transpired while he was fighting Matuo. He states plainly that he will decide for himself whether to proceed.

Reading Guide

This chapter is a perfect example of how Dao Gui Yi Xian does “political intrigue” the way it does everything else—with a layer of horror. The feast isn’t just wasteful; it’s a performance of normalcy that feels almost desperate. Bai Lingmiao’s discomfort is our compass: the lavish food, the bound-feet dancers, the forced laughter against the backdrop of a war that isn’t over yet. Every detail is designed to make you feel the effort it takes to hold a lie together. And when the inner chamber doors close, the horror shifts from spectacle to silence. The fact that everyone knows the truth but refuses to speak it is its own kind of oppression. Li Huowang’s outburst isn’t just frustration—it’s a man refusing to be a puppet in a play he doesn’t understand. Watch for the subtle character work here: Gao Zhijian’s tired diplomacy, the unnamed Sitian official’s mechanical obedience, and Bai Lingmiao’s quiet, watching presence. The answer to Xuanpin’s death won’t be given freely; it’ll have to be torn out of this room.