White and Black . . .
A chilling voice reverberated through the air, commanding and unforgiving.
"Kneel, every single one of you!"
"You pathetic lot! Can't you even kneel properly? Were you raised on filth from birth? Do you fancy cold dung after others have enjoyed a warm meal?"
"Your knees, you wretches! Align them! There are fifteen of you; kneel in a perfect row! Are you capable of comprehending the human language? Are you doing this intentionally, or are you deaf?"
– Slap! – A sharp crack rang out as a hand struck someone's face.
– Puff! – The recipient of the slap seemed to expel something from their mouth.
"Kneel in a straight line! Do you understand? Maintain a level height in your shoulders, heads, chests!"
– Slap! –
"I said, kneel properly! Look at yourselves! Is it that difficult to kneel properly? Do you not understand? Straighten your chests! Raise your heads! Keep your legs in line! Kneel on the ground!"
– Slap! –
"And you're supposed to be the bloody heir of the Song Clan, the chief's son? How can you be so dense? Did you suffer a head injury and turn your brain into mush when you were born?"
"What are you gawking at? I said your head! Do you even have a functioning brain in there, or is it merely rotted?"
...
At that moment, Song Wuyang and his group arrived, greeted by a nightmarish scene that struck terror into Song Wuyang's heart.
The sight resembled a depiction of hell.
Three lifeless bodies lay sprawled in their own blood, swarmed by flies and other vile insects. The floor was covered in blood and flesh.
Fifteen men knelt in a straight, orderly row, their chins, heads, chests, backs, shoulders, and knees aligned meticulously. They remained motionless, akin to obedient zombies gripped by an overwhelming fear.
Their faces were pale, marked with terror, and their bodies trembled. Some had even lost control of their bladders. Yet not one of them dared to deviate from the perfect line they had formed.
A single misstep could cost them their lives, a risk none were willing to take.
Song Wuyang was on the verge of collapsing at the scene.
His son, Song Fei, his beloved child, was among the fifteen.
He stood at the very front, kneeling with unwavering discipline.
Upon seeing his father, Song Fei's eyes brimmed with hope, and he began to shout, "Father, please...help—"
Before he could finish, Han Bingxue, without hesitation, unleashed a resounding slap upon his face.
– Slap! – The strike was sharp and clear, effectively silencing Song Fei and halting his words.
"Who gave you permission to shout, you scoundrel? How dare you disrupt this perfect formation? You must have a death wish! Let me remind you, not even your father, your grandfather, or your ancestors can save you!"
Han Bingxue was relentless, taking on the role of a ruthless enforcer at this moment.
Song Wuyang's expression darkened. His sharp gaze bore into Han Bingxue as he demanded, "Who are you, and by what authority do you insult our people? What is it that you seek?"
With a loud and mocking laugh, Han Bingxue retorted, "What's that? Oh, I've insulted your people? Dear me! I'm trembling with fear! Such an egregious sin! I couldn't possibly commit such a sin..."
He mockingly clutched his chest as if overcome with terror. "Oh...I'm so afraid..."
Yet in truth, he was far from afraid. He was reveling in the situation, toying with Song Wuyang, and openly enjoying it.
Song Wuyang, as the chief of a prominent clan, recognized the sarcasm and felt a surge of fury.
Simultaneously, someone within the crowd began recounting the events. It was a straightforward tale, easily summarized in a few words.
Song Wuyang's anger only intensified upon hearing the account. The other onlookers were right; the root cause of the problem was his son. Song Fei had been responsible for bullying his own brother within the clan, a disgraceful act. Moreover, he had targeted innocent individuals, exhibiting both rudeness and stupidity.
The consequence that befell his son was well-deserved, a fitting punishment.
Half of the individuals who had followed Song Wuyang appeared incensed. They clamored, demanding that the three strangers release their young lord. The other half stood aside with somber expressions, fixated on Song Wuyang, awaiting his resolution to this dilemma.
[Your son's actions were foolish. He humiliated others but ended up humiliated himself. He brought disgrace upon our clan. The matter is far from resolved, and no one knows the extent of the impending trouble. As our chief, what will you do?]
Some among the observers were concerned. [If Song Wuyang persists in supporting Song Fei in this matter, Song Clan might face collapse in the near future.]
"As the chief of our clan, I have already been informed of the facts. This is an internal matter within our clan and does not concern you. How dare you meddle in our clan's affairs? Over such a trivial issue, you've taken the lives of three of our men! What audacity! And even after claiming three lives, you persist in insulting our clan. Henceforth, you are sworn enemies of the Song Clan!" Song Wuyang seethed with rage. "You wretches!"
"Men, apprehend them! Kill them if they resist!"
Song Wuyang finally issued the command. He intended to demonstrate his unwavering support for his son, regardless of the reprehensible acts he had committed.
His words were a blatant distortion of the truth, devoid of any sense of reason. He believed his authority could secure victory, and he seemed to dismiss Song Xuan, who had once been the clan's most gifted individual, as if he were invisible. The mere sight of Song Xuan appeared to disgust him.
[This wretch is the source of my son's major troubles!]
[Once this matter is resolved, I'll ensure that you yearn for death!]
[Not just you, but also your uncles, your father! Everyone in your faction! I want all of you to endure unimaginable suffering!]
"Wait a moment!" A middle-aged man emerged from the crowd, stepping forward to address Song Wuyang. He spoke in a deep, solemn tone, "Chief, it is evident that we are all aware of the facts. Song Fei brought this upon himself. We do not wish to witness our clan members subjected to such humiliation. However, it is advisable that we engage in a cordial discussion with the three individuals over there. Why twist the truth and fabricate a preposterous justification? Is it not an affront to our clan's reputation?"
The middle-aged man's expression was earnest as he continued, "Chief, are you willing to forsake the enduring reputation our clan has maintained for thousands of years in history?"