Chapter Thirty-Three: Ordered to Execute

The Peacock Hall was not inhabited by only Kong Xuan and Nan Luo; numerous attendants stood by, and Kong Xuan was never one to shy away from speaking or acting before others. Thus, at this moment, the expressions of those present were nothing short of astonishment. If it had been only Kong Xuan uttering such words, they might have barely accepted it—for he had once severed the Dao foundation of a prince’s hall for the sake of a mere attendant. Such madness, so unfathomable, had occurred once already; even if it happened again, it might be endured.

But Kong Xuan had ordered Nan Luo to sever one of the heads of the Thousand-Headed Prince, and Nan Luo had agreed without hesitation. In the eyes of all, Nan Luo seemed utterly reckless, arrogant beyond measure… Each secretly wondered, “I’d like to see how you dare borrow a head from the Thousand-Headed Prince.” To them, it was something Nan Luo could never accomplish.

Zhilian Fairy had evidently overheard their conversation and hurried over, saying, “Your Highness, the ceremony is about to begin—how can you provoke another dispute? If outsiders hear of this, those who know may understand, but those who don’t will think there’s unrest within the Phoenix Mountain Immortal Palace. Moreover, the Thousand-Headed Prince has served the Palace Master since ancient times. If you truly harm him, it will be difficult to explain to the Palace Master.”

Nan Luo glanced at Zhilian Fairy in surprise, thinking, “Truly worthy of being by the Phoenix Palace Master’s side. Her words neither offend Kong Xuan, nor do they resolve the matter, but invoke the greater good… Alas, she will likely be disappointed, for Kong Xuan seeks to establish his authority—anything less would be insufficient.”

Indeed, Kong Xuan’s gentle yet proud voice reached Nan Luo’s ears: “I want everyone to know. If no one knows, how can I assert my power? How can I preside over the ceremony with authority?”

Zhilian Fairy was taken aback, never having expected such a reply. For a moment, she was at a loss for words.

“Zhilian Fairy, this is not the prince seeking trouble, but the Thousand-Headed Prince, who, relying on his status and power, refuses the Peacock’s commands. If he goes unpunished now, who knows how many will stir up trouble at the ceremony three months hence, relying on their own status and strength… If blood must be spilled then, it would only be worse!” Nan Luo smiled gently from the side.

Kong Xuan’s temperament was such that, if he deemed something necessary, he would do it, regardless of others’ understanding, never bothering to explain. Nan Luo was much the same—when it concerned himself, he rarely explained anything. Yet now his identity was different: he was the sole attendant boy of the Peacock Hall… At times, he had to speak.

Kong Xuan smiled faintly, gazing at the sky.

Zhilian Fairy looked from Kong Xuan to Nan Luo, suddenly realizing how similar their inner bearing was. The only differences stemmed from their circumstances and identities, but at their core, both carried a measure of pride—though Nan Luo’s was subtle indeed.

The Thousand-Headed Prince seemed calm, but in truth, he was infuriated. He had earned fame over centuries, yet now was being humiliated by Kong Xuan, a mere junior. The more he thought, the angrier he became. He had known the Phoenix since long ago, and being summoned to the Immortal Palace as a prince of a hall was not an honor to him—he was already renowned, already a demon king in his own right.

But now, not only did a junior send an attendant to challenge him, that attendant dared to shout at him—how could he not be enraged?

In the shadowy Hall of a Thousand Heads, a voice suddenly echoed in his ear: “Thousand-Headed, dare you fight?”

It was a transmission of divine sense; though it resounded loudly to the Thousand-Headed Prince, no one else heard it.

“Kong Xuan, courting death,” he growled from deep in his throat, murderous intent palpable. The hall grew icy cold… That murderous aura alone proved that the number slain by his hand was truly staggering.

A gray figure flashed, appearing above the hall, borne aloft on a mass of gray mist. His killing aura soared skyward, scattering the clouds above. All the guards, maids, and attendants in the Immortal Palace sensed this overwhelming murderous will. Each raised their heads to the heavens.

There, the Thousand-Headed Prince stood in gray robes, shrouded in gray mist, black hair whipping about in the void.

“Kong Xuan, I will seal you away for a hundred years…” The Thousand-Headed Prince’s fury shook the air, his voice like thunder, reverberating in all ears. Black hair flying, his eyes shone with a deathly light that chilled the heart.

“The Prince Kong Xuan of the Peacock Hall, by order, presides over the Morning Phoenix Ceremony…” Suddenly, Nan Luo’s voice rang out in the void. Using the chanting method of the “Yellow Court” scripture, he declared his words, so that his voice resounded across the bright sky.

At that moment, from the blue sky, whose clouds had been scattered by the Thousand-Headed Prince, a cascade of multicolored light erupted, pouring down like a waterfall. The brilliance was dazzling, giving the sense that there was nowhere to hide.

“…holds authority over the three halls…” Nan Luo’s voice continued, unwavering, as if reciting a sacred decree, majestic and righteous… The attendants standing beside him in the Peacock Hall were all dumbstruck, unable to believe their ears and eyes.

As Nan Luo chanted, the Thousand-Headed Prince was enveloped in a layer of gray mist, which blocked Kong Xuan’s multicolored radiance. The two seemed locked in a stalemate, the multicolored divine light unable to penetrate the gray fog.

“The Prince of the Thousand-Headed Hall disobeys orders, disrupts the ceremony. The penalty is decapitation, to serve as a warning…” Nan Luo’s gaze burned as he looked to the sky, his voice growing louder, pouring all his spirit into the words, pronounced with the method of the Dao…

As Nan Luo finished speaking, a beam of earthy yellow light extended from the cascade of multicolored brilliance, forming a bridge of light that reached Nan Luo’s feet. Nan Luo paused, then smiled wistfully, stepping onto the light bridge.

The Immortal Palace’s denizens watched in confusion as the earthy yellow bridge stretched toward the Peacock Hall, not understanding its meaning. Then they saw Nan Luo, clad in green, sword in hand, walking step by step along the bridge, each stride small but swift and urgent.

Once more, Nan Luo’s voice rang out, majestic as a divine verdict: “…the attendant swordsman of the Peacock Hall, Nan Luo, by order, execute… by order, execute… execute…”

“So it was him speaking—can an attendant truly dare such a thing? Does he really dare to execute the Thousand-Headed Prince?” The crowd was shocked, thinking this in their hearts.

As Nan Luo uttered the final words, he had already appeared beside the Thousand-Headed Prince in the sky above.

Below, the audience had almost forgotten to breathe. None had imagined a prince would be decapitated so openly. Still, they refused to believe it, convinced that the Thousand-Headed Prince was merely locked in stalemate with Prince Kong Xuan. From below, only his back was visible; none could see the fury and faint terror in his eyes.

The light enveloping the Thousand-Headed Prince exploded like sunlight, so bright that those watching squinted.

A metallic clang rang out—the sound of a sword drawn. Within the multicolored brilliance, a flash of snowy white blade flickered and vanished.

“Ah…”

“The Thousand-Headed Prince has been decapitated!” “He was truly slain…” The crowd felt as if in a dream. No one dared believe their eyes or ears.

When the radiance faded, Nan Luo stood alone in the void, one hand holding the three-foot green sheathed sword, the other gripping a severed head. His edge was unmistakable, while the Thousand-Headed Prince’s body had vanished. The bridge of light beneath his feet stretched toward the Phoenix flagpole before the Immortal Palace. Nan Luo strode across the light as if walking on solid ground, his green robes flowing, black hair streaming.

Who could have imagined, seeing Nan Luo now, that ten years ago he was but a human, prey to others?

With only a few steps, he reached the flagpole suspended in midair. He thrust the severed head onto the pole, blood dripping down its length. From afar, those with keen eyes could see a trace of terror on the face of the Thousand-Headed Prince impaled atop the flagpole.

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