The air in Dae's once-quiet home was now filled with the lively sounds of conversation and music, a jarring but welcome contrast to the recent violence. Servants and maids bustled about, their faces alight with a renewed sense of purpose, as they rushed to prepare food and drink for the unexpected wedding celebration. The grand hall, which had been a symbol of Dae's quiet authority, was now a backdrop for a vibrant new reality.
Chinua, along with her men—Hye, Khunbish, Khenbish, Khawn, Drystan, Naksh, Zhi, Siqi, and Bilguun—stood with Haitao and his men—Och, Chaghatai, Erden, Terbish, Od, Muunokhoi, and Timicin—watching the ceremony unfold. In the center of it all, Jeet knelt, his massive frame humbled as he kowtowed before the unseen spirits of Kaj's ancestors, both living and dead. With each profound bow, it's a promise: a vow to love and to take care of their Kaj. The act was a quiet, powerful symbol of his commitment, a stark contrast to the brutal world they inhabited.
Kaj stood beside him, watching the man who had just saved her with a depth of emotion she didn't yet understand. As he lowered his head in solemn reverence, tears of gratitude welled in her eyes, not just for his compassion, but for the quiet, unyielding strength of a man who was willing to defy a cruel world to give her a future. For the first time since her nightmare began, Kaj felt a flicker of hope.
As the last distant uncle's name was called, Jeet lowered his head, his body weary from the solemnity of the ritual, and performed the twenty-third kowtow. The final bow was as deliberate and profound as the first, a testament to his unyielding promise. When he raised his head, a man—Kaj's distant uncle—walked forward, his face a mask of grim duty. He grabbed onto the sides of Jeet's shoulders and, with a firm grip, helped him to his feet.
The uncle's heart was not in this celebration. He had not wanted to be here, forced to witness a Magoli marriage ceremony on his own family's soil. His mind was a maelstrom of fear, a terrible churning of dread that the soldiers would harm him and his family if he refused. He felt the weight of his other family members' fear, their unspoken plea for him to represent them and give this union a fragile legitimacy in the eyes of their conquerors.
As he looked at Jeet, a man he had never met, and at his niece, the last surviving member of her direct family line, the uncle felt a cold and bitter acceptance. This wasn't a wedding; it was a surrender. His participation was a forced offering, a final, painful act of submission to a power he could not defy, all to ensure his family's survival in a world that had been turned upside down.
The uncle looked at Jeet, and a warm smile spread across his face, replacing the mask of grim duty. It was a smile of bitter acceptance, a sign that he had chosen to make the best of a terrible situation. "I don't know much about Magoli marriage tradition," he said, his voice now gentle and filled with a profound sense of resignation, "but now as family, we entrust Kaj to you." With those words, he was not just giving a speech; he was giving his blessing, a final, painful act of trust that transformed the forced ceremony into a fragile moment of genuine human connection.
After the ceremony, the aroma of a celebratory feast filled Dae's residence hall. Four large round tables were laden with food, a bounty prepared by the city's servants. A small group of Magoli soldiers, their rigid military postures softened by the evening's events, sat eating and chatting happily. They raised their cups and toasted their comrade, each one congratulating Jeet and his new wife Kaj on their union. The tense quiet of the afternoon was gone, replaced by the warm, easy camaraderie of soldiers celebrating a new chapter of their fellow comrade.
Chinua grabbed a bowl of rice wine, her movements fluid and purposeful. She stood up, commanding the attention of everyone in the hall, and in her deep voice, she raised her bowl. "First, I want to toast to Mayor Dae, for allowing us to hold Jeet and Kaj's wedding on such short notice in his home. I really appreciate it. Mayor Dae, you didn't just make good merits, but you saved a young woman from a lifetime of gossips and ill stares." She took a long drink, then turned to face the groom. "Secondly, congratulations to Jeet, for being the bravest man out of nine thousands of you for willing to pick up a lice and put it on his head."
Hearing Chinua's last sentence, the men and women at the tables erupted in laughter. It was a mix of shock and amusement, a release of the tension that had hung in the air since the afternoon's grim events. Her crude, but honest, metaphor for Jeet's bravery was perfectly timed. For the first time all day, a genuine, joyful sound filled the room, a testament to the strange and unsettling sense of normalcy that had settled over the group.
After the laughter died down, the quiet of the hall returned, and with it, the solemn weight of their situation. Chinua's smile faded. She looked at Hye, a sigh escaping her lips as she showed a flash of her true weariness. "Hye," she said, her voice dropping to a serious tone. "Earlier, Mayor Dae asked me, what do I plan to do with Nue-Li City and its citizens?" Her gaze locked with Hye's, and she gave him a burden he had never asked for. "What do you want to be done with Nue-Li City and her citizens?"
Chinua did not question him for a private answer. She had already known what Hye had always wanted, but for only her to know and understand was not enough. She needed him to share with everyone—the Magoli soldiers, the Ginmiao citizens, and the city's former mayor—so that all could know the true intention of the aftermath of Nue-Li City. It was a bold move, a public and transparent declaration of power that would set a new precedent. This was not about personal will, but about a clear and unwavering public purpose that would govern the city's future.
Chinua did not question him for a private answer. She had already known what Hye had always wanted, but for only her to know and understand was not enough. She needed him to share with everyone—the Magoli soldiers, the Ginmiao citizens, and the city's former mayor—so that all could know the true intention of the aftermath of Nue-Li City. It was a bold move, a public and transparent declaration of power that would set a new precedent. This was not about personal will, but about a clear and unwavering public purpose that would govern the city's future.
Hye looked up at Chinua, and he was shocked again by her action. First, it was the swift execution of the five soldiers, then the arrest of Jochi, and now she was giving him total authority to decide the fate of a city he had come to hate and yet tried so hard to save. The weight of her trust was an immense burden, a terrifying contradiction that left him speechless. He was being asked to decide the fate of the city that had betrayed him, a city that had been the source of so much pain, but he knew that his own actions now had the power to save it from itself.
Hye stood up and looked Chinua in the eyes, meeting her unwavering gaze. In that moment, he understood that he didn't even need to speak; Chinua had already spoken his mind for him. In the past, he had helped making plans and trained her to the best of his ability, but he never truly bowed his head to her, refusing to sell his life for her.
Now, Chinua had lived up to the promise she made years ago, and he finally understood that the trust between them was a strong bond that could not be broken by any words or actions. Therefore, from this moment on, he—the man who never bowed his head or surrendered to anyone—would sell his life for Chinua. He lowered himself, dropping down to one knee with his right hand placed across his left chest, a final act of total loyalty and submission.
Hye's action made the mouths drop in shock, mostly among the Magoli soldiers who had known and befriended him for years. This was the man who had never bowed his head, a fierce and independent man who had always stood as an equal among them. His final, unyielding act of loyalty was a staggering display of trust, a powerful testament to the bond between him and Chinua that none of them had ever truly understood.
Chinua stared down at Hye, a faint, quick smile flashing across her face. In that single, fleeting moment, a silent understanding passed between them. She knew that Hye had finally sold his life for her. A private thought echoed in her mind: "You have taught me that with determination, I will always win, and now at this moment, my determination finally has you sell your life to me." The gesture was a culmination of their years of tension and mutual respect, and it was a public declaration of his absolute loyalty. She had won, not through force or coercion, but by proving herself worthy of the loyalty of a man who had never bowed to anyone.
"I want Nue-Li City to be a neutral city that belongs to no kingdom," Hye said, his voice ringing with quiet conviction as he looked up at Chinua. It was a radical idea, a concept that defied the very nature of conquest. He was not asking for peace under Magoli rule, but for a new kind of freedom—a sanctuary where both Magoli and Ginmiao could exist in harmony, a bold, and perhaps naive, vision for a city that had been a source of so much pain.
Dzhambul's voice, cold and unyielding, echoed from the entrance of the hall, shattering the fragile peace of the wedding celebration. His words were a direct refutation of Hye's request. "Your wish is unacceptable, as Nue-Li City was conquered by us," he declared, his presence filling the doorway with a brutal finality. "Nue-Li City from now on will be a part of the Hmagol Kingdom." The statement was not a negotiation, but a pronouncement, a stark reminder of the harsh realities of power that Hye's idealism had momentarily ignored.