At the far end of the night banquet on the Pillow-the-Stream Terrace, the man performing magic for the guests' amusement knew nothing of the brief exchange at the other end.
Daoist Feihuang, whom Bai Shijun esteemed so highly, took the gourd from his waist, pulled out its wooden stopper, and patted it twice. Two golden insects flew out, circling above the Pillow-the-Stream Terrace.
Feihuang then recited a few incantations. A tiny figure suddenly appeared on each golden insect, scarcely more than an inch tall, clad in armor with skirts, and wielding a slender sword the size of an embroidery needle. Riding the insects, they began fighting back and forth through the night sky. The two little golden-armored figures buzzed and shouted as they fought, their movements precise and methodical, truly resembling soldiers battling on a field. Yet performed by figures no bigger than a finger, those movements looked especially amusing.
The guests watching from below could not help laughing.
But while everyone watched intently, the man performing the magic seemed somewhat distracted. Now and then, Feihuang stole a glance toward the head of the table. Looking at the utterly unsuspecting youth, he thought:
Hmm. Enjoy yourself a little longer.
Feihuang knew that before long, his two endearing insect puppets would turn into viciously poisonous barbs and strike the youth with the speed and precision of shooting stars!
Those two yellow insects glimmering faintly with gold were, in fact, the Venomous Locusts Daoist Feihuang had reared. Once he spotted an opening, he would use his finely controlled magic to direct the two Venomous Locust Soldiers in a fatal attack against the man who had offended the prefect. And all of it would be merely an accident caused by puppets slipping out of control. As these vicious thoughts turned through his mind,