A group of honest men, having done their utmost, spoke the most sincere words in their hearts.

His Majesty wasn’t angry at all—hearing them, he actually seemed quite pleased, feeling these words sounded oddly pleasant to the ear, and sincere too, much more endearing than those ministers who nagged on and on every day about this being forbidden and that being wrong.

Endearing as it was, this was also just too funny for words. Was he to laugh or not to laugh?

The Tan family was holding a funeral today, and the head of household currently in charge wasn’t even present. To laugh out loud behind people’s backs would be too disrespectful, so he had to hold it in.

And so, everyone present, His Majesty included, was holding back long breaths, swallowing down their laughter bit by bit with great difficulty. His Majesty, his forehead beaded with sweat, said to Chen Dasheng: “Ah, ‘making a fortune’ is good, ‘great joy’ is good too! Well said, well said… I like it. You, you all come over here, line up in order according to your blades.”

Only then did Chen Dasheng and the others look at each other, scramble up, and stand together in front of their own blades.

His Majesty addressed Chen Dasheng, who stood at the position of blade-leader: “So you’re the blade-head?”

Chen Dasheng nodded, wanting to say something, but only opened his mouth without managing to say anything at all—he didn’t know how to respond to words like these.

He really was an honest, simple child. His Majesty, growing more patient still, continued to ask: “How old are you?”

“Twe—” Chen Dasheng had truly forgotten his own age. After thinking for a long while, he said uncertainly: “Nineteen or twenty? In answer to you, my father used to be in the camps too, and back then someone kept track for me, but later my father died fighting in the four southern provinces, and after that no one told me how old I was supposed to be. Life was hard, and I was busy all the time in a muddle, so I couldn’t remember it.”

Living in that great camp, doing nothing all day but killing, unable to go anywhere or know anything, he’d spent his days in a daze, thinking of only one thing: tomorrow, if I get out, I need to find a way to survive and come back.

The four southern provinces! That single phrase stirred up no small amount of memory in His Majesty. He tilted his head back, recalling that great battle at Ningzhong Province—if not for Tan Shilin… the Retired Emperor would long since have been gone.

But the Retired Emperor had suffered a great jolt and fright in that battle, his spirit and nerves damaged, and he was often confused now, which truly worried him.

Tan Shize, Tan Shilin… and Tan Shiyuan, whom he could barely bring himself to mention—the Tan family sometimes really did put him in a difficult position.

His Majesty came back to himself and, patiently, asked each of them their age one by one. When he finished, he said to Chen Dasheng with a smile: “Interesting. You’re not even the oldest among them, yet you became their blade-head. Do they obey you, normally?”

Guan Si’er, the youngest, understood nothing of propriety and blurted out: “Obey, obey! The head is the head—when the head’s head is gone, he becomes the head. Whether you like it or not, you obey!”

That string of “heads” nearly made His Majesty burst out laughing.

Unable to help himself, His Majesty could only lift his teacup to cover his face, then asked Chen Dasheng again: “Given your age, that’s rare indeed—do you remember how many blade-tips you’ve lost before you?”

Chen Dasheng thought about it, then took out a bundle from the satchel at his waist. He crouched on the ground, opened it, and laid out the hair bindings, saying: “In answer to you—thirteen.”

Thirteen bundles of jet-black hair tied with red cloth. Chen Dasheng himself was filthy and reeking, yet this hair had been kept clean and neat, tidy and smooth.

His Majesty looked down at them for a long while before finally saying: “Tomorrow, I’ll have them arrange a burial ground, and have a good coffin made for each of them—bury them properly.”

Hearing this, Chen Dasheng’s eyes lit up at once. In his heart he thought—for this act of conscience alone, he could hand his life over to this man.

He knelt on the ground and silently kowtowed three times.

His Majesty didn’t know what those three kowtows meant; he assumed Chen Dasheng was thanking him on behalf of the dead blade-tips, and felt a twinge of guilt as he said: “You—cough—don’t worry about their offerings either. I’ll have it arranged at the great temple, and have the monks properly hold rites for them.”

At this, Yu Qingguan and the others knelt as well, giving thanks with genuine reverence, even feeling something like envy in their hearts.

The living suffer so much. Once you become a ghost, you get great monks to serve you incense and offerings—what bliss that would be.

Standing to one side, Zhang Minwang gave a helpless cough. How could His Majesty be allowed to casually look upon such things—how inauspicious, how bad it would be if it brought some ill fortune down on him!

In a moment they’d have to get His Majesty to change his clothes—having encountered a funeral, they’d need to send someone to summon the Astronomical Bureau to check the proper hour, or else even the palace would be tainted by the ill omen.

Hearing Zhang Minwang arranging this behind him, His Majesty pursed his lips. In the past, on campaign, which day hadn’t he seen a funeral? Yet now, in peacetime, people had grown so fussy about propriety.

Still, he didn’t stop it. The man hadn’t done anything wrong, after all.

From over in the camp, the sound of horses’ hooves began to rise one after another—His Majesty knew this meant the mourners sending off the coffin were gradually returning.

At this, he asked curiously: “You lot—why didn’t you go up front today to see off your Second General?”

They were old blades, after all, whatever else they were.

Hearing this, Chen Dasheng froze for a moment, then raised his head, his tone growing somewhat low: “We wanted to go. But… no one told us, no one told us how to get there… so we didn’t go.”

His Majesty’s eyes dimmed slightly. Looking over their attire, he was reminded again of the spectacle when he’d entered the camp.

“Oh? No one told you? Those men of the Long Blade Battalion up front—by rank they’re your juniors. How dare they treat you with such disrespect?”

Old soldiers of the army, whatever official rank they held or lacked, commanded some measure of dignity before anyone. A blade squad like this one—not to mention the rest, but even this small blade-head—should have been among the veterans present from the founding of the camp.

Chen Dasheng’s tone showed no trace of grief, only spoke plainly: “Those, those aren’t our Long Blade Battalion. They belong to the Great General’s Long Blade Battalion…”

Hearing this, His Majesty’s expression changed at once. His voice rose sharply as he cut in: “What did you say?!”

Chen Dasheng jumped in fright. He looked at His Majesty, opening his mouth without quite understanding, hesitating before explaining: “No—it’s not that they were wrong not to call for us. They belong to the Gr—Great Lord, oh, the Great General’s Long Blade Battalion, not the Second General’s Long Blade Battalion. It’s only right they didn’t call us. I’m, I’m not lying to you.”

His Majesty flew into a rage. He reached out, snatched up the teacup on the table, lifted it—then let out a breath, and slowly, slowly set the cup back down.

The atmosphere around them turned oppressive in an instant.

Chen Dasheng grew anxious and quickly knelt down: “This one, this one—did I say something wrong?”

Seeing their blade-head kneel, Yu Qingguan and the others knelt down one after another as well.

Suppressing his temper, His Majesty forced out a smile: “Get up, you lot. This has nothing to do with you.”

Only then did Chen Dasheng and the others dare to stand, though their hands and feet fidgeted with nowhere to put themselves, and they dared not speak either.

But His Majesty pressed him again: “Don’t be afraid. Even if something’s wrong, it won’t be blamed on you. I only ask—how many men remain now in your Second General’s Long Blade Battalion? Where are they all now?”

Chen Dasheng and the others looked at each other, and finally he answered with an expression as if to say, “you really don’t know?”: “You—you don’t know?”

His Majesty shook his head, saying solemnly: “I! Do not know!”

Every month he received the ledgers forwarded by the Ministry of War. Not counting Tan Shiyuan, Tan Shize alone directly commanded twelve thousand elite troops—each man drawing two liters of rice daily, six dou monthly; the army as a whole consumed two hundred fifty dan a day, roughly ninety thousand dan a year. Among these, the Long Blade Battalion, at full strength five hundred men, elite equipment—each man drawing two catties of beef or mutton daily, five he two liters of white rice, twelve steamed buns, three men sharing one he of salt, one and a half he of sauce per man and a half, with a dedicated cook for every squad of fifteen…

And with all his silver and grain, he’d raised soldiers like this? Give them a bowl and they could go begging on the streets—yes, and they’d even know how to sing beggars’ songs while at it.

Chen Dasheng’s body swayed slightly. He stared at His Majesty for a long while before saying: “You don’t know? You’re the Emperor!”

Sensing his blade-head’s mind in turmoil, Yu Qingguan hurried to steady him and pleaded with His Majesty: “We—our head is truly too grieved right now. Could you, could you let this one speak in our head’s place?”

His Majesty sighed with a bitter smile: “Indeed, I am the Emperor. Go on, speak.”

“In answer to you—the Second General’s Long Blade Battalion, there’ve been hardly any of us left for a long time now. As of today, there’s just the seven of us! All the rest… were left behind in Qingfeng City.”

His Majesty looked at them in disbelief: “You mean—just the seven of you? The whole Long Blade Battalion?”

Yu Qingguan nodded: “In answer to you, that’s right. Just the seven of us. There used to be a remnant squad too—during the siege, we clashed with the enemy’s main commander several times. Their side had nothing but elites left, and word was it was the Second Prince himself leading the charge from the front.

Everyone, everyone was desperate too—whoever lost would lose their lives! They meant to die for their country! Well, then—we’d die for ours too! Since it was already a fight with nothing held back, who could have guessed the enemy would be so vile in battle—they scattered poison powder, and then a great wind kicked up, and, and our side just fell, fell in droves… Ding San—Ding San and the others, they never came back… the Second General’s own bodyguard corps, they lost a great many too…”

Yu Qingguan couldn’t go on speaking either… tears burst from his eyes, carving two muddy tracks down his face.

Those who’d come up together from Shaoshang, who’d suffered together—in the end, poisoned to death?

His Majesty nodded, and said, grieved and furious himself: “I know of this matter. They used men from Baishi Mountain.” Having said this, he suddenly slammed his hand on the table: “Baishi Mountain! I’ll exterminate their whole clan to the ninth degree!!”

Ma Ergu hurriedly spoke up: “I—I’ll tell it, I’ll tell it. Afterward, it was Your Majesty who gave the order—to besiege but not attack. And what happened after that, Your Majesty already knows. Heaven felt they’d behaved too vilely, and grew angry—Qingfeng City collapsed, and we followed the Second General through the night into Yanjing to reinforce you. That night, word was the Great General would send reinforcements, but we waited and waited and no one came, left and right, and both the east and west fronts had already started their assault—the cannons were already sounding, there was no retreating anymore!

There was truly no other choice—the Second General took the remaining bodyguard corps and went in together with us, so many people… We went in all together, not recognizing anyone. The south gate of the palace was the most dangerous, everyone’s eyes were already red with killing, but by the end, people just… disappeared. Corpses covered the ground, and no one told us what to do. We didn’t even know the Second General had died. Today—that’s right! Today, today!”

As though suddenly remembering something, Ma Ergu tugged at Chen Dasheng: “Head, quick, show His Majesty that military order. His Majesty can read—he can tell us where to go.”

He finished, then said with a laugh to His Majesty: “It wasn’t intentional, offending your family’s Sixth Young Master. It’s just, earlier, when we went to send off the Second General—we thought, we’ve followed the Second General for so many years now, and they looked down on us as too shabby to help carry the coffin. Couldn’t we at least be allowed to walk a few steps behind?

But no one ever came for us. Over there they were already getting ready, putting on armor and mail to head out, while the few of us were still standing around at the horse grounds, waiting and waiting. Then Colonel Wu came and said the Field Marshal’s tent had issued an order—that we should follow the grain convoy to the border pass the day after tomorrow. Our head was so grieved right then, he didn’t listen carefully, and didn’t know which unit we were supposed to follow. By the time we thought to ask, Colonel Wu had already gone on ahead… ah, Head! Head?”

Ma Ergu nudged Chen Dasheng with an elbow.

Chen Dasheng steadied himself, then finally drew out that military order from inside his robe, and with both hands offered it up to Zhang Minwang, who had stepped forward.

When His Majesty took it and looked it over, he drew in a sharp breath of cold air.

He knew this thing well—he saw it every month, every day: the discarded tallies for grain, provisions, and fodder.

This was the military order?

His Majesty was laughing with anger now, not even sure who to laugh at. He shook the paper and asked Chen Dasheng: “This is your military order?”

Chen Dasheng grew flustered and asked: “Isn’t it? Could it have been mixed up wrong?”

His hand went back into his robe again, and after a moment he drew out a whole pile of papers, spreading them onto the ground in even greater panic, looking them over again and again without recognizing any, then looking up pleadingly at Zhang Minwang: “This—my lord, might I trouble you to help look and see which one it is? This one, this one doesn’t know how to read…”

Moved by the story just told, his eyes rimmed red, Zhang Minwang nodded rapidly: “Ah, ah, coming right up, let me look for you. Don’t panic, don’t panic.”

He trotted over in small steps, picking up the papers one by one. By the time he’d finished collecting them, tears were falling drop by drop onto the ground. Finally, eyes blurred, he gathered up the whole pile and walked over to His Majesty, saying: “What military order is this! Your Majesty, look at this—isn’t this just bullying people…”

But before he could finish this complaint, someone came to report that Tan Weitong had returned and requested an audience.

His Majesty acted as though he hadn’t heard, flipping through the military orders one by one. At the last, he asked Chen Dasheng: “Do you know what this is?”

Chen Dasheng blinked: “A, a military order?”

His Majesty’s hand shook: “This is the military order you’ve been going by?”

Seeing His Majesty’s anger, Chen Dasheng didn’t know what to do, and reached out to feel his own satchel: “Could it be wrong again? It’s not in this one.”

He pulled out a sheepskin pouch, poured out even more military orders, flipped through them again and again, then nodded with certainty: “That’s right, these are all old military orders, not the new ones. Isn’t it with you?”

His Majesty drew in a cold breath, pointing furiously at that sheepskin pouch.

Zhang Minwang scurried over, confiscated the pouch as well, and presented it to His Majesty.

From over there, someone came again to report that Tan Weitong requested an audience…

His Majesty flipped through those old military orders, and as he flipped, his anger faded instead. He merely looked at Chen Dasheng and the others before him, his heart both sore and soft.

Watching that honest, simple child look at him with such earnest eyes, His Majesty made up his mind in his heart—since your Tan family doesn’t want them, then these are mine now.

After all, he was the Emperor. Steadying himself, he pointed at the military orders and said: “These—do you remember what happened, for each of them?”

Chen Dasheng nodded, pointing at the one beside him: “How could I forget! I’ve got a good memory, I remember them all. That one with the red characters—that was my first order I ever received. It was up on the Sangzhi road, when we cut down a silver-armored general with a red tassel helmet. The Second General was pleased, and rewarded us with meat to eat, and gave each of us two hundred coins.”

The blade-attendants standing around His Majesty twitched at the corners of their eyes. In the early days of the uprising, to encourage the troops’ morale, the merit-recording system in the army had been quite brutal, awarding merit according to the rank of the general beheaded.

A silver-armored cavalry officer’s head would earn one rank of nobility.

Recalling many fond memories, Chen Dasheng said, somewhat bashfully: “I still had my head back then—this was my head’s military order, just this one. Everything after that was mine—oh, this one’s, I mean. That order in your hand with lots of circles on it, from Wucheng Pavilion—the Second General wasn’t there that time, it was the Eldest Young Master who issued the order in the Field Marshal’s stead, ordering me to lead my squad to intercept. We killed a man called Shang Jun back then, along with his cavalry of eighty men. When Wucheng Pavilion fell, the tally counted our squad alone at twelve hundred heads. The Eldest Young Master was so pleased he rewarded us with two whole sheep to eat as we pleased! And five hundred coins each!”

This was unbearable to listen to. You cut down Shang Jun? Do you even know who Shang Jun was? He was the former dynasty’s defending general at Wucheng Pavilion, the second son of Shang Baozhi, a fourth-rank Adjutant General no less, and he had eighty black cavalrymen behind him besides—twelve hundred heads…

Such a great feat—of course His Majesty remembered it. It had been credited to Tan Shiyuan and Tan Weitong. And now this small blade-head was saying it was actually done by them?

Chen Dasheng was about to say more when suddenly someone behind him shouted: “Silence!!”

Everyone looked up, and there was Tan Weitong, still dressed in mourning white, charging in with a group of clansmen his own age, faces full of indignation.

His Majesty hadn’t given any order, yet he’d dared to barge in like this—what nerve!

But then again, this was the Tan family’s own camp.

His Majesty tossed the pile of papers casually to Zhang Minwang, and smiled.

Tan Weitong, leading a group of his generation’s brothers, came forward and dropped to his knees before His Majesty.

His father was over at the grave right now, too occupied with matters to seek permission in time. Left with no choice, he’d rushed over here—even if His Majesty were to punish him for it, he’d have to plead his case.

He kowtowed several times, saying: “This subject is guilty—this subject deserves ten thousand deaths for disturbing your imperial presence. But this subject truly could not bear to listen any longer while standing off to the side. I beg Your Majesty’s mercy, and permission to explain a few words!”

Fair enough—it was only right to hear what he had to say.

His Majesty nodded with an amiable expression: “Young General Tan, don’t be so agitated. Speak slowly. I’m listening.”

Tan Weitong straightened his upper body, steadied his nerves, then pointed an angry finger at Chen Dasheng and the others: “Your Majesty does not know this, but these men are nothing but shameless soldiers of ill repute. What they’ve said isn’t entirely false—in earlier years they truly were in the Long Blade Battalion, but because they turned cowardly before battle, my second uncle dismissed them to the horse grounds.

If Your Majesty doesn’t believe this, please summon the officers and soldiers currently at the horse grounds to ask them—ask whether these men live there, eat there.

This subject truly would not dare deceive the Emperor! I’ve already had someone fetch the past and present registers of the Long Blade Battalion’s soldiers. When they arrive, I ask that Your Majesty personally verify whether these men are truly among them.

These men have long relied on their seniority in the camp to bully the weak without restraint. It was only because my second uncle was too soft-hearted, out of consideration for their having followed him since the founding of the uprising, that he didn’t hold it against them too much.

This subject’s family too thought—well, it’s not as if we can’t spare them a meal, we’ll deal with them eventually. The Tan family has raised and governed troops for generations; what kind of men haven’t we seen? Never would we have imagined—these men! These men…”

Tan Weitong glared at Chen Dasheng and cursed sharply: “Speak! Who exactly put you up to this? Coming to slander my family’s honor of loyal service across generations? Aren’t you afraid that when my Great General returns, he’ll have you hacked to a thousand pieces!!”

Having said this, he kowtowed again before His Majesty: “Your Majesty, he—he’s been incited by someone somewhere to do this, bullying us now that my second uncle is dead and cannot speak to defend himself, ruining my family’s name! I beg Your Majesty to see clearly, and restore the innocence of my Tan family across generations. Your Majesty, my second uncle’s coffin was only just carried out today!!”

Having finished, Tan Weitong broke down weeping, and the Tan clansmen around him all wailed in grief together.

Chen Dasheng and the others said nothing, standing with calm eyes, not a single motion in their bodies.

Chen Dasheng even thought to himself—if it came to it, if it came to it, they were all in the same boat today anyway, none of them would live past today—might as well kill off a few more while they were at it. He turned to look back at His Majesty, but His Majesty gave him a gesture of reassurance.

Tan Weitong wept with heartbroken grief, calling out again and again to his second uncle’s spirit in heaven, watching over him.

His Majesty said nothing, only listened, until someone carried up half a chest of registers for him to inspect. At that, His Majesty smiled.

He said to Tan Weitong: “I won’t be looking at that. I see enough of this sort of thing every day! I’m tired of it! I— tell me, child, why are you crying? Through years of endless campaigns, over some matter from years past, having spare time enough to sort out something like this—so what if they weren’t part of the Long Blade Battalion? If they weren’t, then they weren’t!”

Having said this, His Majesty turned to Meng Dichen, who stood silent off in the distance: “Fifth Son.”

Meng Dichen came forward: “This subject is here.”

His Majesty said to him with a smile: “Go bring over Young General Tan’s warhorse.”

The wailing below stopped at once. The group, not knowing what wild thoughts to entertain, all turned to look at Tan Weitong. Tan Weitong himself didn’t know what to think either, and grew so frightened his lips turned pale. He looked at the Emperor, then at Chen Dasheng and the others, even sweeping his gaze around as if seeking rescue—but there was only His Majesty here, and those who had barged in with him…

What was His Majesty about to do? Was he to fight these monsters himself?

While he was still lost in wild thought, Meng Dichen came leading Tan Weitong’s warhorse over.

This horse of Tan Weitong’s had no ordinary pedigree—it was one of the top-grade warhorses sent up this year from the Six Steeds Horse Ranch, named Crimson Flame Dragon, said to be capable of traveling a thousand li in a day without difficulty.

When Crimson Flame Dragon was led over, everyone, seeing it clearly, quietly gave a murmur of admiration—this horse was clearly a first-rate warhorse at a glance, its bearing alone striking, its coat a solid crimson without a single stray hair, its body long, its build all the more elegant, its muscles evenly proportioned throughout. It walked forward proudly as it was led, each step solid and sure, its hooves lifting with springy vigor.

Even His Majesty, who had seen countless fine horses, felt a flash of regret pass through his eyes at the sight, and praised Tan Weitong: “A fine horse!”

Tan Weitong’s lips were still trembling when he heard His Majesty say to those shameless men: “Today I won’t have you kill a person. Can you kill a horse?”

Chen Dasheng looked the horse over and said: “Such a fine beast—it would be a shame to kill it.”

But His Majesty said with a smile: “No matter. The Tan family isn’t short of one or two beasts. I only ask you—do you dare kill it?”

Chen Dasheng nodded: “A small matter.”

And so, whether willing or not, the whole group made their way together to the entrance of the Tan family’s military camp, to that open ground used for displays of might.

Fear in his heart, Tan Weitong still forced himself to say to His Majesty: “Your Majesty, for an old soldier to kill a horse—is this not a simple matter?”

But His Majesty, hands tucked into his sleeves, said with a smile: “Hm, simple? I doubt you’ve seen how your second uncle’s Long Blade Battalion killed horses.”

Outside the fence, Chen Dasheng and the others slowly unwound their headcloths, wrapping them around their faces, leaving only their eyes exposed. At the end, they stripped down to nothing but a single filthy loincloth each.

Zhang Minwang stammered: “This—this is hardly proper conduct!”

But His Majesty said with a laugh: “How is it improper? They wrap their heads to guard against blood spray—no amount of clothing would be enough to spare, so from the very first day, they’ve never had the habit of wearing armor to protect their bodies.”

Talkative as ever, Zhang Minwang asked curiously: “Your Majesty, this old servant notices these few seem quite sturdy of body—how is it they have so few scars? Look at Lord Meng and the others, covered in scars all over their bodies…”

His Majesty said, his eyes calm: “Once you go out with the Long Blade Battalion, if you don’t survive, you die. What use would scars be?” Having said this, he looked around at the Tan clansmen: “In a moment, all of you had better open your eyes wide and watch closely for me! Remember this well! Remember what the Long Blade Battalion is! What the Tan family’s Long Blade Battalion is! Try closing your eyes in front of me and see what happens!! I’ll have you hacked to a thousand pieces!!”

A tattered scrap of cloth armor was taken from Chen Dasheng’s bundle and hastily wrapped around his waist.

This thing had once been able to cover half the body, but now only half of that half remained.

Guan Si’er looked disdainfully at the horse in the distance: “Head, Big Brother, we’re just killing this? You could do it alone, couldn’t you?”

Chen Dasheng rolled his neck, his voice flat and even: “We’ve got a new master now. Everyone make today’s work look sharp—give our new master some face.”

“Oh!”

And so, barefoot, showing bodies of bronzed flesh earned on the battlefield, tension coiled with half a lifetime’s pent-up anger, they walked slowly, unhurriedly to the center of the grounds, lining up in a row, each gripping his blade with one hand behind his back. Chen Dasheng fixed his eyes on the horse, while the others each watched a different angle to their sides and rear.

Seeing everything ready, Meng Dichen nodded to His Majesty.

His Majesty made a gesture, and Meng Dichen suddenly drew a gleaming long blade from his waist and struck a fierce blow at the horse’s hindquarters. There came a dull thud, and—

The horse’s blood sprayed, and it let out a long whinny, rearing up on its front legs, gone mad, like a mass of crimson-black raging cloud, charging straight at the seven men.

People around cried out in alarm, and before anyone could react, the horse had already reached Chen Dasheng and the others. Seeing them in its path, it leapt into the air, its legs coming down to trample the whole row.

In just an instant, a blink, a flash!

Everyone’s ears first heard a low, muffled cry: “Hu!!”

There was no anger in that cry, no unfairness—only like boatmen hauling a barge upstream through a dangerous gorge, bent over, backs against the cliff face, dragging a vessel a hundred, a thousand times heavier than themselves forward. Never a burst of strength too great, never one too small—but step by step, forceful, without a single misstep.

It was only the space of an instant—everyone’s ears heard, all at once, a sound neither rushed nor slow, like scissors cutting through coarse cloth in a single stroke, a faint hiss that cut crisp and clean through their ears.

Before their eyes, the horse’s two hind legs kicked out in midair as the blade-head’s body slid, already beneath the horse—the blade, no one knew when, had already moved from behind his back to before him, gripped now in both hands.

Then his body dipped slightly, and with a sudden shudder, a blade of light flashed through empty air—and before everyone’s eyes, the horse’s waist split, dividing in an instant from one into two, two into four, four into eight, into sixteen pieces…

The horse’s body scattered through the air, cleanly and neatly dismembered. As the pieces of horseflesh landed and settled, only then did everyone hear the faint hissing sound of blood at their ears, and even a low, faint gasp from the horse—then silence, complete and utter.

Those old blades didn’t even look at the scattered pieces. They slowly sheathed their blades, releasing the breath they’d been holding, and let out a low, deep cry:

“Ha…!”

Like the meaningless burst of spirit on a cold winter morning, stepping out from home, breathing out the stale warm air trapped beneath the covers.

A powerful killing intent swept across the grounds. Someone sat down hard on the ground with a thump, and the faint smell of urine slowly began to rise.

Emperor Wu, Yang Zao, watched those old blades, his heart stirred beyond words. No matter how many times he saw it, it stirred him just the same—something unspeakably beautiful, unspeakably exhilarating, this scene worth two catties of wine and a whole battle drum’s worth of celebration.

He grabbed the now-dazed Tan Weitong by the collar and pulled him close, saying: “Go back and tell your father—tell him I said, I won’t pursue this matter further. Have him wipe his backside clean, and not learn from his uncle’s example—at least have some sense of dignity as a man! If he’s a fool, if he’s stupid, go ask your grandfather what it means to know how to use people. And open your eyes wide and take a good look—this is your second uncle’s Long Blade Battalion! You don’t want them? Well, now they’re mine.”

A great wave of cheering rose up like spring thunder.

On the grounds, Guan Si’er let out a breath of stale air and quietly asked his own leader: “Brother! Brother? Is our new master pleased?”

Chen Dasheng’s eyes held a hint of a smile as he gave a hum of assent.

Then Guan Si’er slung his blade over his back, bent down to scoop up a rib of horseflesh, and shouted to His Majesty from far away: “Your, Your Majesty! Could this piece of horsemeat be given to me!!”

It was that hour of the day—he was hungry!