September eighteenth, the beginning of winter.
The sun had only just risen, but a clamor had already swept over the riverbank as everyone headed toward the angle between the two rivers.
The tower ships moored along the river had also moved closer to the river mouth. From their upper decks, one could look down over the dark mass of people onshore.
Xie Jinhuan stood at the bedroom window on the Boat Tower's third floor, straightening his white brocade robe and surveying the bank. A platform stood in the angle where the three rivers met.
Called the Dragon Sacrifice Platform, it had originally been a place where commoners worshipped the rivers' water gods. Now seats had been arranged upon it, with Snow Eagle Banners hanging all around,
and several Military Soldiers in embroidered uniforms stood nearby with sabers at their waists.
Before the platform lay an open space a hundred zhang across. Seats lined its edges on both sides, beneath banners belonging to the Fengshan Society, Dragoncloud Valley, and others. The invited sect leaders and wandering heroes alone numbered no fewer than three hundred. Together with their disciples and attendants, they packed the grounds completely. Jianghu wanderers without seats could only squeeze around the outside or watch from the tower ships along the river. There were too many people to count.
Nangong Ye had endured another whole night of torment. Even his iceberg-cold face could not conceal the lingering blush on his cheeks. He was now adjusting his veiled hat and dress. To avoid recognition, he had even bound his chest, and his skirt was quite loose, leaving almost nothing of his identity apparent from the outside. He cautioned:
"Go in first. I'll slip over later."
"Why not just go in with me? I have an invitation. Why act so sneaky?"