[To Become a River of Stars] Dong Xiange - Chapter 41
The next day.
The heavy rain had finally exhausted itself, ceasing its force by midnight. By morning, only a drizzling mist remained, falling like fine needles that sent chills down the back of one’s neck.
The sky was still pitch black, even the tofu sellers had not yet risen to grind their beans, yet several processions had already set out quietly.
They made their way toward the dam. The river was unusually turbid that day, and in the pre-dawn darkness, it was impossible to see what lay beneath the surface. Though the waves were not fierce, they churned with dirty foam, lapping against the embankment and splashing up countless droplets.
At that moment, several boats rowed into the center of the river. Four men boarded smaller vessels, each carrying a child. Another man, wearing a hat that concealed his face, also held a child and boarded the central boat alongside a grey-robed figure with a jade hairpin securing their hair.
They then rowed toward a small island in the middle of the river. The four smaller boats halted along the periphery, while the two figures from the central vessel disembarked and climbed onto a steep rock face, where turbulent waves crashed at their feet.
The hat-wearing man held a disheveled youth, stained with blood. The face visible through the tangled hair appeared bruised and pallid, and the rise and fall of his chest seemed almost imperceptible.
“He seems… wrong. As if he’s dying. How did this happen?” the man hesitantly addressed the grey-robed figure beside him.
“He was going to die anyway. What does it matter? Hurry and drown him in the river before he dies completely, or you’ll miss the crucial moment,” the grey-robed figure urged, their seemingly patient tone barely concealing suppressed agitation and excitement.
“Drown him? Shouldn’t we just throw him into the water as an offering? Why hold him down to drown?” The man seemed alarmed, unwilling to personally kill a youth.
“If it were just an offering, throwing him in would suffice. But when you came to me, didn’t you have another wish? If I don’t use his corpse for the ritual array, how can I fulfill your desire?” The grey-robed figure whispered persuasively, their voice slithering like a snake, sending chills down the spine.
“But this… this is utterly immoral…”
“If it’s not him, then it will be your daughter who dies. Make your choice!”
The grey-robed figure’s harsh words seemed to jolt the man awake. His arms trembled, causing the disheveled hair of the youth in his embrace to sway.
He knelt, his once-neat robes now stained with mud and filth. Slowly, he lowered his arms, bringing the youth mere inches from the water’s surface.
“You’d best stop now, or else your head and those hands of yours will be severed and offered to the river god instead.”
A voice rang out from nearby. An exceptionally handsome youth suddenly dropped from a tall tree on the river island, his black hair tied high with a red cord, swaying behind him as he leaped.
Despite jumping from such a height, he showed no sign of exertion. He spoke terrifying words with ease, a faint, indifferent smile playing on his lips.
After he landed, rustling sounds emerged from a hollow in the tree beside him. Soon, a smaller youth crawled out—slight of build and not very tall, with leaves and a small pinecone stuck in their hair. Despite their somewhat comical appearance, their expression was solemn.
“Who dares interfere with the river sacrifice?” the grey-robed figure demanded, taking the offensive.
“Your ancestor!” Shiliu replied loudly.
“Impudent child! How dare you speak such nonsense!” The grey-robed figure turned back to the man and urged, “Don’t listen to them! Hurry and act, or you’ll miss the auspicious time.”
“A crooked Taoist like you isn’t even fit to be my disciple,” Shiliu retorted, addressing the man again. “Put him down quickly so I can treat him. Don’t create unnecessary karma.”
Li Xuanci added fuel to the fire, speaking leisurely, “You can proceed if you wish, but consider whether my arrows are faster than your hands.”
He raised his hand slightly, and suddenly, the surrounding trees revealed a dense array of archers—they had been lying in ambush on the river island all along.
Seeing the situation turn against him, the grey-robed figure seemed prepared to shove both the man and the youth he held into the river. But Li Xuanci’s sword was faster. A flash of brilliant light, and the blade pierced through the evil Taoist’s palm, pinning it three inches into the ground.
The grey-robed figure let out a piercing scream. The man, pushed by him, stumbled. Fortunately, the Taoist’s aim was off, so the man fell to the ground instead of into the river. The youth he had been holding slipped out, their head striking a nearby rock.
Thud. Blood flowed from beneath the disheveled hair, tracing a path down the pale face. The impact seemed to rouse the youth, who murmured faintly.
“Father.”
Yet the moment they spoke, their appearance transformed. One moment, they were a youth; the next, they took on the form of a young girl—delicate and lovely, yet with an unnerving pallor and bluish tint, as if on the verge of death.
Everyone was stunned by this sudden change, but no one reacted more strongly than the man. He froze for an instant, then his eyes widened in horror, and he threw himself forward, crying out, “Mianniang!”