Everyone had assumed the opening ceremony of the Jade Water Nectar Gathering would be a dull affair, but to their surprise, the moment the reed pipes and flutes struck up, dozens of other instruments joined in at once. Every sound, every melody, blended together without a single clash, merging into one grand, sweeping wave of music.
Ziqing listened with total focus. Someone unversed in music would hear only the tune, but someone as skilled in music as she was could hear every single note.
That grand, overwhelming momentum closely resembled the climax of the Lishang. Yet no matter how intently Ziqing listened, for however long, she couldn’t detect the slightest clue.
She let out a rueful, self-mocking laugh — she must simply be too on edge.
This was, after all, a piece performed together by all the Beast Clan families. Though hundreds of people each played their own part, with their own techniques and pitches, this ensemble piece was clearly built from a single, unified score.
This was not a sound of nature, nor a melody formed by nature’s own spontaneous harmony.
This was a piece composed by musicians — how could it possibly be part of the Lishang?
Realizing this, the tension finally eased from Ziqing’s nerves.
Seeing the change in her expression, those around her understood that this piece wasn’t what they were searching for, and everyone relaxed to simply enjoy the performance.
Even though the piece had nothing to do with the Lishang, it was still a feast for the ears.
But very soon, something unexpected happened.
Amid the ensemble, a single note from the reed pipe and flute together suddenly soared upward, lifting the pitch.
At once, every other instrument fell abruptly silent, leaving only the reed pipe and flute, their low, mournful tones trembling and hoarse.
The already-hushed crowd fell into an even deeper silence, with nothing left but the low, plaintive, sorrowful strains of the reed pipe and flute.
That mournful melody!
A sudden sense of familiarity struck Ziqing. She was certain this wasn’t a melody from the Lishang, and yet it felt undeniably familiar, remarkably close.
Without realizing it, Ziqing sat bolt upright, and Jun Beiyue’s brow furrowed as well.
But then, suddenly, a resounding bell tolled in, quickly followed by a rousing drumbeat, cutting brutally through the reed pipe and flute’s duet and jolting everyone awake from their absorption in the music.
The mournful melody shifted abruptly — the reed pipe and flute now sang in thin, delicate tones, while the bell and drum clanged and boomed.
That sense of familiarity vanished at once, leaving Ziqing puzzled, her brow knitted in confusion.
And just at that moment, a sharp, piercing cry rang out from the sky.
A beast had appeared!
It was a fierce great roc, clearly one tamed by the Beast Clan, fully twice the size of an ordinary roc.
Only then did the crowd understand — the sudden shift in the music had marked the beginning of the beast summoning.
It seemed the opening ceremony was drawing to a close.
With the roc’s appearance, one enormous flying beast after another came soaring in from the distance, circling round and round above the frozen surface of the Heavenly Lake of Jade Water Nectar.
Soon they packed the sky densely, forming ring upon ring, layer upon layer.
Ziqing and Jun Beiyue took it all in, both of them fully aware that this was merely the tip of the iceberg of the Beast Clan’s full army.
Sure enough, before long, not only flying beasts but ground-dwelling beasts too were summoned forth.
No one could say exactly where they had all come from, but soon the entire vast surface of the Jade Water Nectar lake was ringed round by beasts three layers deep.
The ensemble music gradually came to a stop — the summoning of the venomous beasts was complete.
Looking down from the highest viewing platform, all one could see was a dark, dense mass — impossible to count how many beasts there were, or how many species.
But Jun Beiyue could estimate it: it would take half of his own army’s forces to match this horde of beasts.
And yet this horde was still only the tip of the iceberg of the Beast Clan’s true might, not even counting the Jiao warriors or the venomous insects of the Medicine Clan.
This was precisely what made Nanzhao so formidable.
The sheer, sweeping magnitude of the scene before them made even the perpetually stern-faced Jue Mingzi’s expression change, while Xiong Xiaobao and Baili Xiaosheng stared with wide, unblinking eyes.
After a long moment, Xiong Xiaobao murmured, “That many? How could my pouch ever fit them all?”
Baili Xiaosheng rolled her eyes at once. “Fit them? You’re thinking way too much.”
With all the hundred beasts assembled and the ceremonial music at an end, the Prince of Nanzhao finally rose, his face full of pride and satisfaction. “Prince Yao, come join me on the viewing stand.”
Nanzhao built its army from beasts, and this moment was, without question, a golden opportunity to display that military might to a neighboring kingdom — how could the Prince of Nanzhao possibly let it pass?
Jun Beiyue rose as bidden, though he showed the Prince little of the deference he might have hoped for — displaying no great astonishment, let alone genuine shock. He offered only a few polite compliments before following the Prince of Nanzhao toward the platform to one side.
“Princess Yao, this way, please.” Consort Qin extended the invitation politely. Ziqing nodded and, gathering Xiong Xiaobao and the others, followed along.
Today, even the Prince of Nanzhao was merely a spectator, not a judge.
The election of the Beast Clan’s chieftain was an internal matter for the clan itself, and the Prince of Nanzhao held little authority to interfere, just like anyone else.
Strictly speaking, this contest had no designated judge at all — or rather, every single person present served as judge.
By right of succession, the chieftaincy of the Beast Clan should have passed to the Second Young Master of the Beast Clan. But because he had committed a grave crime and been imprisoned in the heavenly dungeon, the direct line of the Gumo Family had lost its right of inheritance. Now, whoever within the Gumo Family wished to become chieftain would have to compete for it.
Yet this contest wasn’t fought on behalf of the individual — each competitor represented an entire family. Should that family win, the most venerable and respected member within it would then take up the position of Beast Clan chieftain.
The Gumo, Xiao, and Sheng families were, without question, the three most formidable and closely watched houses.
With all the hundred beasts gathered, it was clear that the contest itself would be fought through the art of beast-taming.
Beast arts was a general term, encompassing the taming, commanding, and raising of beasts, among other things.
Apart from the Gumo Family, who could communicate directly with beasts, every other family’s mastery of beast arts hinged entirely on the instrument in their hands.
The contest followed a system of paired elimination rounds, and whatever strategies or tactics each competing family chose to use was entirely their own business.
Ziqing and her companions were here to listen for sounds and to watch the spectacle.
Setting aside the natural sound they had yet to find, this contest was genuinely worth watching in its own right — a clash between beasts, and just as much a clash between the people who commanded them.
The contest soon began.
The Prince of Nanzhao was in high spirits, watching and offering running commentary, occasionally cheering aloud. Jun Beiyue, standing beside him, responded only with a faint smile, though inwardly his thoughts churned with a great many reflections.
Had Nanzhao not been isolated from the rest of the Longyuan continent because of the secret of the Lone Isle, then perhaps, throughout the history of Longyuan, a Nanzhao Prince backed by such an array of extraordinary arts would long ago have risen to become its ruling hegemon.
The secret of the Lone Isle had dealt Nanzhao a devastating blow — no wonder the royal family preferred to remain sealed within its own territory, content generation after generation with the status quo, cut off from the outside world.
It had to be said, a royal house like this was, for any nation, the most fatal kind there could be.
Because paper can never contain fire forever.
Choosing to face crisis through avoidance and concealment meant that one day, when the Nanzhao royal family finally did step beyond its borders, they would find themselves left far, far behind, and everything they had once taken such pride in could very well be crushed in an instant by some new rising power.
By now, Jun Beiyue was no longer comparing his own army against the Beast Clan’s forces directly. Instead, he was silently calculating whether the gunpowder he already possessed, combined with the newly mined supply from Flame Mountain, would be enough to wipe out the Beast Clan’s entire army.