Night fell deep.
Hong Chen and the Ten Attendants left Moss City,
carrying unanswered questions,
and stopped outside the borders of the Moss Kingdom,
at an abandoned stone pavilion.
The fire was kept low—
just enough to drive away the cold.
The Ten Attendants spread out around the pavilion,
some standing, some sitting,
as if long accustomed to this kind of silence.
Hong Chen sat on the stone steps,
his gaze fixed on the flames.
Then he spoke.
"You all—"
His voice was not loud,
yet everyone paused slightly.
He lifted his head and looked at them.
There was no sharpness in his eyes,
no command.
"Why do you trust me so completely?"
The wind passed through the pavilion.
The flames swayed gently.
No one answered at once.
After a moment, one of them spoke,
his voice low and steady:
"My lord.
Because you never asked us to trust you."
Hong Chen froze.
The man continued:
"You only ever said—
If you want to follow, then follow.
And we did."
Hong Chen fell silent for a long time.
Firelight danced in his eyes,
yet ignited nothing.
The scene of the former king's bedchamber surfaced in his mind.
That night, the air had been suffocating.
Candlelight trembled, shadows stretching long and twisted along the walls.
Hong Chen stared at the former king before him.
There was no anger.
No hatred.
Only a decision forced to the very edge.
The next instant—
The blade moved.
Its tip pierced the king's chest,
then was pulled free at once.
No roar.
No hesitation.
He raised his hand and hurled a condensed fireball toward the window.
Boom!
Stone shattered.
Flames burst outward.
The entire Holy City woke in that single thunderous sound.
Hong Chen turned and fled.
In the night, the pounding of iron boots closed in fast.
Ten figures emerged from the darkness, pursuing him.
Hong Chen drew his blade to meet them—
But several steps away,
they stopped.
"Deputy General."
It was not an encirclement.
Not an execution.
Coldly, Hong Chen asked,
"You're not here to kill me?"
A brief silence.
Then the one in front spoke:
"Deputy General—
please take us with you."
In the distance, pursuers from the Holy City appeared,
torches like scattered stars, rapidly closing in.
Hong Chen glanced back at the hunters,
then at the ten before him.
"Do as you please."
His tone was indifferent.
"If you want to follow—then follow."
He turned and ran toward the Black Sea Forest.
At the forest's edge,
the night wind was cold.
Shadows of trees loomed like beasts.
Hong Chen stopped and looked back.
"When I was ten,
this is where I walked out."
He stared into the pitch-black sea of trees.
"And now…
I've returned."
With that, he stepped inside.
The ten elites exchanged glances.
No one retreated.
They followed.
The fire crackled softly.
Hong Chen came back to himself and looked at the figures beside him.
"Get some rest."
His voice was hoarse, yet calm.
"Tomorrow, we travel again."
No command.
No promise.
Firelight flickered in his eyes,
yet still ignited nothing.
And the Ten Attendants all understood:
From the moment they stepped into the Black Sea Forest,
they no longer belonged to the Holy City.
They had chosen—
this man.
夜深.
红辰和十待离开青苔城.
带着不解的心情来到青苔国城外,一处废弃的石亭.
火没有点得太旺,只够驱散寒意.
十待分散在四周,
或立,或坐,
像是早已习惯这样的静默.
红辰坐在石阶上,目光落在火焰里.
忽然开口.
"你们"
声音不大.
却让所有人微微一顿.
他抬起头,看向他们.
目光里没有锋芒,也没有命令.
"为何如此信任我?"
风吹过石亭.
火焰轻轻晃动.
没有人立刻回答.
过了片刻,其中一人开口,声音低而稳:
"主上."
"因为你从未要求我们相信你."
红辰一怔.
那人继续说:
"你只说过
爱跟就跟.
而我们
都跟了."
红辰沉默了很久.
火光在他眼中跳动,
却没有点燃什么.
先王寝殿的画面,却在这一刻浮现.
那一夜,空气凝滞得令人窒息.
烛火摇曳,墙上的影子拉得漫长而扭曲.
红辰紧张地看着眼前先王的身影.
不是愤怒.
不是仇恨.
而是被逼到尽头的决断.
下一瞬
刀出.
锋尖刺入心胸,
随即迅速拔出.
没有怒吼.
没有迟疑.
他抬手,将凝聚的火球轰向窗口.
轰!
石窗破裂.
火焰炸开.
整座圣城在这一声巨响中惊醒.
红辰转身逃离.
夜色之中,铁靴声骤然逼近.
十道身影,自黑暗中追来.
红辰拔刀相迎.
却在数步之外
他们停下了.
"副将军."
不是围杀.
不是追捕.
红辰冷声问:"你们不是来杀我的吗?"
短暂的沉默后,为首之人开口:
"请副将军
带上我们."
远处,圣城将领的追兵已然现身.
火把如星,迅速逼近.
红辰回头看了一眼追杀者.
又看向这十人.
"随你们的便."
语气冷淡.
"爱跟,就跟."
他转身奔向黑海森林.
森林边缘.
夜风阴冷.
林影如兽.
红辰停下脚步,回头.
"我十岁那年,
是从这里走出来的."
他望着那片漆黑的林海.
"现在...
我回来了."
说完,便走了进去.
十名精英彼此对视.
没有人退后.
他们跟了进去.
火焰轻响.
红辰回过神来,看向身旁的人影.
"好好休息."
他的声音低哑,却平静.
"明天,还要赶路."
没有命令.
也没有承诺.
火光在他眼中跳动,
却没有点燃什么.
而十待心中都明白
从踏入黑海森林的那一刻起,
他们便不再属于圣城.
而是,
选择了这个人.